Entangled (Evolve Series Novella 2.5)

 

 

Entangled

 

An Evolve Series Novella

 

S.E. Hall

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2013, S.E.
Hall

 

Toski Covey of Toski CoveyPhotography 

Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative 

Editor:
 
Erin
Roth, Wise Owl Editing

Book Design:
 
E.E. Long,
Biblio/Tech

 

All rights reserved.

This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in
part,

without written permission from the author.

 

This book is intended for mature audiences only

 

.

 

 

To My Fabulous Four...who
always rock my world!

 

 

Prologue

 

P
eople probably think
streets like this don’t exist anymore. I know I did. But as Dane and I drive
down Elmhurst Drive in his shiny silver Roadster, top down and an unusual
Georgia breeze in my hair, the neighborhood looks downright picturesque. All
the lawns are perfectly manicured with huge maple tress dotting the area and
1428 loves pink, evidenced by the rows of flowers lining the walkway. I glance
sideways when I hear his chuckle; his tan, smiling face looks back at me, a
flirty glint in his dark eyes.

“You trying to break my fingers, baby?” he asks,
lifting our joined hands between us.

“Oh, sorry.”  I blush, relaxing my grip, seeing that
the ends of his fingers are now crimson.

“It’s okay,” he kisses the back of my hand, “I know
you’re excited. I’m glad.”

The street is a dead end cul-de-sac, a community
basketball hoop in the circle, several young boys playing a game there now. Two
older men watch the game from their lawn chairs parked nearby and wave to us as
we climb out of the car. I giddily wave back, once again earning Dane’s lighthearted
laugh. The whole scene is worthy of a “Welcome to the Neighborhood” brochure
and makes me smile, already feeling homey.

My duplex is precious, red brick with white shutters
and a large bay window right in the front; I literally
bounce
my way up
to the front porch. The landscaping needs to be touched up, the hedges are way
overgrown and all the plants looking half-dead since no one’s lived here to
keep it up, and I can’t wait to do just that. I look over and notice Bennett’s
already got a sunflower flag flying proudly over her porch next door and it
just makes my fire to get started burn brighter—I have my own house to fix up!
I’ve never been so pumped about a project in my life!

“You ready to go in, Miss Walker?” he teases in my
ear, swatting me playfully on the butt.

My “yes” turns into a squeal as I’m swept up, bride-style,
in his arms. “Then go in you shall,” he responds before leaning down to kiss my
lips and carrying me over the threshold.

 

Chapter 1

~Laney~

 

I
love everything about the place, from the
long list of things that
need
to be done to those which are only
necessary to make it
mine.
As we wander from room to room, my excitement
spills over and I start to tell Dane my ideas.

“I think in here I’ll paint it softball yellow and
then draw red stitches all along the top, like a border.”

“I think that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” he
groans, backing away from me as he says it—
good idea.

“Don’t hold back, Dane, tell me what you really
think.” I cross my arms over my chest, because he just lost his boob ogling privileges
with that comment.

He’d bought this duplex for me, sick of the 11pm
curfew that often can’t be “worked around” in the dorm, not to mention it’s a
closer drive to his house, strategically located at almost the dead middle
between Chateau Kendrick and GSU.
But
, he’s being a bossy boots caveman—a
trait he’d kept somewhat hidden until he felt absolutely comfortable with me—and
shooting down all my top notch decorating ideas.

 “Baby, if that’s what you
really
want, go
ahead, but it sounds gaudy and juvenile, and you have to think of resale. When
it comes time for you to marry me and move into the big house, we’ll have to
make the room look normal for potential buyers.”

Some girls probably would have heard “marry me” and
melted right where they stood, fanning themselves and batting their eyelashes.

Not this girl.

“What do you mean
gaudy
?
Juvenile?
” I
mock and shrink him on the spot with my glare. “Just because it’s not black,
white or gray,” (yes, I’m referring to the sterility of his house right now)
“doesn’t mean it’s ugly. I think it’d look cool and you said this was my place.
I should be able to decorate it how I want.”

I’m not pouting, really. I’m standing with my legs braced
apart with my hands on my hips and a scathing frown on my face—ready to spar.

“And the other bedroom?” he asks, patronizingly
calm.

I wave a hand and scoff, “do whatever you want with
it. Go absolutely crazy with your three-color palette.”

And now for the zinger that’s
really
gonna
get him.

“Men shouldn’t know how to decorate anyway, using
words like gaudy.” I let one brow raise and give him a suspicious smirk. “Do I
need to learn how to fix the cars then? What if I get a flat?”

“Oh, baby,” he growls, his feet pounding the floor
as he stalks toward me, “are you questioning my manliness?”

“Maybe,” I tease, slowing backing up, “Nancy.”  My
eyes dart anxiously around the room, mentally planning my escape route in this
new territory.

He laughs deeply, not a “ha ha, that’s funny”
laugh, but more an “uh huh, I’m coming to get ya” sexy laugh. “Got it planned
yet?”  He grins knowingly, one eyebrow cocked.  “Better run to wherever looks
the most comfortable.”

There’s no furniture yet, what is he talking about
comfortable? Seeing the confusion on my face, he answers unasked.

“I’ll be showing you how much of a man I am when I
catch ya,” he creeps closer, “so I’d stay away from the tile, it might hurt
your back,” the mischief in his eyes ignites as he continues moving slowly
closer, “or your knees.”

Do I still have to pretend I don’t want to be
caught? I love this side of Dane and I love that the dominant, controlling,
hunter comes out more and more every day.

The game’s precept itself is laughable; no one
could question Dane’s virility. It seeps from his pores, an aura around him that
takes up all the air in a room. And he’s all mine. From his forever-jostled
brown locks and matching warm eyes to his cocky, lopsided grin to his sculpted
chest, all the way to his tight back, that irresistible V and toned, tight ass—
he
is mine
.

“You wouldn’t!” I challenge, knowing delightfully
well that he
would
.

“Oh, baby, you know I can and I will.” He flips
open the button on his pants, that cocky grin suffocating me from where he
stands. “And I think you want me to.”

The man is a degree of hot and sexy that cannot be
measured and I’m instantly aflame, tingly and wanting, every single time I look
at him. And when his dominating stare is fixed on me, telling me I’m helpless
to stop him when he wants me this badly, my ability to move, think, or possibly
resist leaves me. I am but his for the taking, whenever and however he wants.

I shake my head back and forth, biting my bottom
lip in the way that I know drives him crazy. “Do not,” I say throatily, barely
above a whisper.

Only Dane makes me forget that not too long ago I
was simply a girl; a scared, unsure, shy girl a long way from home. With him,
as his, I am anything but.  He revealed the true me—a confident, sensual woman
ready to embrace all that makes me feel alive.

I cut my eyes right, staring at a deceptive
destination, waiting for him to take the bait, then juke left, squealing like a
schoolgirl in a slasher film as he grabs me. He never even flinched right,
stepping in front of me effortlessly, growling into my neck as he swings me in
his arms.

“You’re mine now,” he warns in a deep, sultry
timbre.

“Wasn’t I already?” I breathe out, pulsing from
head to toe just from his touch, his tone, his command.

“Mmm hmm, but the chase makes it so much sweeter.
And now, baby,” he hoists me up by his strong hands spanned across my ass and
my legs wrap around him of their own volition, “we’re gonna christen your
carpet.” He goes down to his knees, still holding me tightly against him as he
slowly lowers me to my back, laying his body across mine.

“You can’t be serious!” My moan betrays my protest
as he suckles my neck, hands still kneading my backside. “There aren’t any
curtains. Someone could see us!”

Another interesting fact I learned about Dane after
the first time—he wants it all the time. Anytime, anywhere, any way…now that
the seal is broken, my man can’t be stopped.

Can I get an Amen?

His warm breath fans across my already sensitized
flesh, raising goosebumps and triggering a pull in my core. “If anyone peeps in
your windows, I’ll take care of them later. And,” one hand slides to the front,
snapping open my jeans, “we can keep it as discreet as possible.”

“You’re insa— Oh, Dane,” my breathing is labored
and stuttered, his fingers deliciously teasing me, “discreet could work.”

“I love it when you see things my way.” He lifts
his body off me slightly, the loss of his heat like an arctic blast. “Pull ‘em
down, baby, just enough.”

I comply with his demand wantonly, no longer caring
where we are, raising my hips off the floor and pushing only my jeans down to
the middle of my thighs.

“Good girl, so discreet,” he teases as he looks
down at me with a mischievous curl to his mouth and a growing flame in his gaze.
“Now let’s see if I can do the same.”

Watching through my lust filled haze, he reaches in
his back pocket, tossing a condom packet by my head.
Seems he had this
christening planned all along
. Still balancing himself on one forearm above
me, a hand slides in between us, easing down his zipper, pushing his pants and
briefs down in the front. If a peeping Tom did happen upon us now, we might get
away with the infamous “we were just making out and his jeans are baggy”
defense.

He pulls the neckline of my shirt down with his
fingers and the cup of my bra with his teeth, his mouth finding the center of
my bare breast quickly. “See,” he points out huskily as his tongue circles my
hardened point, “shirt still on. I’d never let anyone see you but me, Laney,
ever
.
But this
is
happening, right here, right now. I want you.”

“How are we—”

“Shhh.” He silences me by covering my mouth with
his, greedily seducing my senses, grinding against me and kissing me as though
he may never get to again. Everything with Dane is intense, always; even an
afternoon quickie on the carpet, he finds new heights to take me to. “Want it,
baby?” he asks, rubbing his rock hard length along my saturated panties, one
hand tight again on my ass, pushing me into him. “Say you want it, Laney, tell
me.”  His voice is edgy, he’s losing his control.

“Yes,” I reach down, slipping my hands into the
back of his loose jeans and grabbing his firm ass, digging my fingers into the
hard flesh, “I want my Dane, so bad.”

He rolls the condom down himself in milliseconds,
the most dexterous man ever—it’s quite impressive actually. “Move your panties
to the side,” he growls, voice and eyes hazed with lust and hunger, both imploring
me before he leans down to suck along my chest, my throat, frenzied and
impatient. “Do it, baby, just pull ‘em to the side, I need in you.”

So, unlike anything I’d ever dreamed myself capable
of, I do it. I snake a hand down, between our seeking, wanting bodies and yank
my panties over, giving him the opening he so desperately wants, that I just as
desperately need. And the second I do, he connects himself to me in one hard
thrust.

“Ahhh,” I cry out, my back arching off the floor in
the most exquisite mix of pleasure and pain, legs clenching tighter around him
and toes curling.

“My baby,” he croons, his open mouth inching up the
column of my neck, tasting and nipping along the way, finding my ear where he
likes to whisper all his dirty thoughts. “So fucking good. Every. Single. Time.”

I lose the self where I am only Laney, now the
perfect version where Dane and I are the same entity. The physical sensation is
amazing, like my body and his are one in the same. My insides ripple in time
with his feral heartbeat, his hums of satisfaction timed to my shallow pants.
He always knows just what I need; how hard, how fast, where to touch me, when
to touch me there; he’s an attentive, unselfish, anticipatory lover. The
emotional connection that I crave just as much as the physicality is as strong
as ever.  I’ve never felt, could never feel, closer to another soul, my
partner, the person to walk this life
with
me, than when Dane and I make
love.

He moves over me, in me, stroking the spot inside
me that makes my breath catch and my mouth open in a silent scream. His head
falls back, eyes closed and a trickle of sweat gracefully make its descent down
his slickened skin to get lost in the light thatch of hair on his chest. “You
feel so perfect,” he grunts out.  

His ass clenches under my hands with each plunge
into the deepest part of me and I can do nothing but stare up at him, strikingly
beautiful in all his animalistic nature.

“You close, baby? Need to come, want you with me,” his
moans, his low grumble a plea. “Too good, need to,” he pants again, opening his
eyes now to gauge my reaction.

His hands move under me again, gripping my ass like
a vice and tilting my pelvis up, where he knows he’ll hit right where I need
him to, then begins to circle his thumb on my clit, the combination exactly
what it takes to set me off like a Roman candle.

The howl that leaves me bounces off the walls of
the empty room, no objects to absorb the sound, increasing the volume to
embarrassing—as if I cared.

“Uh huh,” he goads me, rubbing harder, twisting his
hips at the end of each slide in. “That’s it, fuck yes, baby, squeeze me. Who
makes you come?”

I can’t answer, delirious as my body bounces in
time to his maddening thrusts.

“Baby,” his strained yell breaking through my
trance, “who makes you come?” He asks again and again, each word coordinating
with a pound that grazes my cervix, or maybe my throat, his lip curled and
teeth bared.

The muscles in his arms flex with each move, the
pulse in his throat begging me to raise up and lick it, but I’m pinned here at
his mercy. “You,” I somehow answer, intoxicated with the feel of him, the scent
of our mingled sweat and passion. “Only you, babe.”

“Damn right,” he moans, satisfied with my reply. He
lays flush against me now, giving me all his weight, which I welcome.

There’s something about the heaviness of the man
you love on top of you
.

“Need you there, baby,” he says again, his thumb
mercilessly swirling on my clit, begging me to catch him in release. “Now,
Laney, again, for me.”

It takes but a minute; he knows to keep his thumb
fast and right there if he wants me to join him. This time as I explode around
him, shamelessly screaming his name as he too lets go, twitching inside me.

I do this to him,
me
—my love, my body—undoes
this god. This territorial, bossy, controlling…and phenomenal man that is all
mine.

“Love you,” he says in between slowing pants,
trying to catch his breath.

“Love you,” I hum, caught up in bliss, rubbing up
and down his now damp back.

I love this part.

Other books

Beetle Power! by Joe Miller
Never Glue Your Friends to Chairs by Katherine Applegate
The Face That Must Die by Ramsey Campbell
Mickelsson's Ghosts by John Gardner
GG01 - Sudden Anger by Jack Parker
Botanica Blues by Tristan J. Tarwater