Unraveling Him: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 3)

by Claire Kingsley

  His lips attacked mine again, so I couldn’t answer. But I wasn’t complaining. We could stand here and make out all day for all I cared.

  “Do you want to know the truth?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He lapped his tongue just below my ear. “I had to get off in the shower before I could sleep that night.”

  My eyes rolled back and the pressure between my legs grew. “Really?”

  “Really. I was thinking of you.”

  My breath came faster. His hands all over me, his body pressing against mine, and his low voice in my ear were driving me absolutely crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about the time I’d seen him in the shower. Had he been thinking of me then, too?

  Oh dear god.

  “Since we’re being honest,” I said, my voice breathy, “once you left the bathroom door open a little bit when you were taking a shower. I peeked.”

  A deep laugh rumbled in his throat and he kissed down my neck again. “Did you like what you saw?”

  “Yeah… it was… well, you were…” Our mouths met again. I couldn’t quite finish a sentence, but this was still the best conversation ever. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I watched you make yourself come.”

  He pulled away again and gave me that smile. It was so subtle, barely there. But he was going to kill me with that thing. “You watched me?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up a little more and his hand slid down to my hip. “Are you thinking about it now?”

  “Little bit.”

  He kissed me again, deep and dirty. I’d never been kissed by someone who could do so many things with his tongue. He was leaving me off balance, my body thrumming with desire.

  “Are you wet for me, Fiona?” he whispered close to my ear. “Can I find out?”

  I was certain the answer to that was a resounding yes. All I could do was nod, my words swirling away in a whirlpool of lust. With one hand bracing me, he slipped his other into my pants. His fingers started to explore and I was glad he was so strong. The way my legs turned to jelly, I could barely hold myself up.

  Evan’s hands were a turn-on in and of themselves, but feeling his thick fingers sliding across the sensitive skin between my legs was unreal. He kept kissing me—my neck, my jaw, my lips—while he gently dipped one of those thick fingers into my opening.

  My entire body trembled and he groaned against my throat. “You like that, don’t you?”

  I nodded again.

  “You want more?”

  “Yes.”

  This had escalated quickly, but knowing Evan had been thinking about me the way I’d been thinking about him, how could we have resisted any longer? My body cried out for more—more friction, more pressure. More Evan.

  He slid his finger in deeper and his palm pressed against my clit. I rocked into his hand, my body taking over, greedy and wanting.

  Evan’s growly voice murmured his approval and he slid a second finger inside me. “That’s it, baby.”

  He was playing me like an instrument, about to make me come undone. I’d never been so close to orgasm so fast. But this wasn’t enough. I needed to feel him too.

  With his mouth on mine and his fingers doing unbelievable things between my legs, I attacked his pants, ripping them open. I had one objective: get that magnificent cock in my hand.

  He grunted hard as I plunged into his pants and wrapped my hand around his erection. He was stiff and swollen and oh my god, so thick.

  “Fuck,” he growled.

  “You like that, don’t you?” I asked, repeating his words.

  “Fuck yes.”

  He pulled his hand out of my pants and rubbed my wetness onto his length. I watched, fascinated, as he touched himself, gliding a slick layer of moisture over his darkened cock.

  I eagerly took him in my hand and squeezed. He grunted again, sounding so feral and raw. Leaning in to kiss me again, he slid his hand back into my panties and plunged two fingers inside me.

  Oh god, yes. This was so happening.

  With his tongue delving deep into my mouth and his fingers plunging in and out of me, I pumped my hand along his hard length. His fingers inside me felt amazing, but coupled with his cock in my hand, I could barely hold back. His muscles tensed and he jerked his hips into my hand.

  I was determined to make him come, standing right here in his shop. The urgent craziness of it set my body on fire, my inner walls pulsing around his fingers. We were both racing toward the finish, inhibitions falling away. He pumped his fingers and rubbed my clit like a man on a mission. And I stroked that cock for all I was worth, every pulse and growl spurring me on.

  “Fuck, that feels so good,” he said, his voice strained.

  The hint of vulnerability in his tone was as hot as the feel of his fingers inside me or the way his cock throbbed in my hand. I wanted to unravel him.

  Because he was quickly unraveling me.

  Our foreheads rested together and we watched as I stroked his thickness. Hot tension built between my legs, and I knew I was close.

  “That’s it,” he said. Could he feel it too? “Fuck yes, Fiona. Give me what I want, dirty girl. Come for me.”

  The rhythm of his fingers abruptly changed and he offered quicker strokes in just the right spot. My body tensed, the pressure almost at the breaking point. I whimpered as I kept rubbing his cock, desperate for release, and reveling in the feel of him losing control.

  “Come with me,” I said, almost breathless.

  His entire body clenched and a low growl rumbled in his throat. My inner muscles tightened and released with a sudden spasm of pleasure, and I was coming, riding his hand, moaning with the sheer intensity of it.

  With another deep groan, he jerked his hips hard and thick ropes of come burst from the tip. In a haze of erotic delirium, I watched it happen as if in slow motion. Every thrust of his hips into my hand, every pulse of hot come. Through it all, he rode out my climax with me, his fingers stroking inside me until he’d wrung out every last tremor.

  Breathing hard, I let go, and he slid his hand out of my panties. I looked around, bewildered. What had just happened? I glanced down at my hand. We’d made a mess. “Oops.”

  “Here,” he said, grabbing a clean shop towel. Looking almost sheepish—was that even possible?—he wiped the come off my hand. “Sorry about that.”

  “Wow, that was… I don’t know what to… Did we just…?”

  “Hey,” he said with surprising gentleness. He drew me close and touched my face. “Was that too much? I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, no, it wasn’t too much. That was amazing. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Can I be really honest with you right now?”

  “Always.”

  I nibbled my bottom lip. “I’m feeling a lot of things and I know you’re probably not a cuddler, but after that I really need to cuddle. Could you maybe make an exception this one time?”

  The corner of his mouth turned up again. He leaned in to place a soft kiss on my lips. “I actually love to cuddle. Let’s go inside.”

  Grumpy, broody Evan Bailey loved to cuddle? Of all the surprises today, that had to be the biggest.

  24

  Evan

  I woke up lying sideways across the bed, face down. Fiona had her head on my lower back, as if I were her pillow. How we’d both moved around that much without waking each other was beyond me.

  We clearly had issues.

  The covers were a mess, but it was fitting. So was I.

  I’d been determined to stay strong, hold out, keep myself from acting on any of my dirty fantasies about Fiona.

  And I’d failed.

  I’d kissed her. Fine, understandable. She’d told me Luke had kissed her—not that she’d kissed him, I’d noted—and that she’d turned him down. And yes, that first kiss had been all about erasing every trace of that asshole from her lips. I’d told her the truth, and if I had to do
it over again, I would.

  But that second kiss? All me.

  I’d been fighting it so hard, and I hadn’t been able to take it anymore.

  She murmured something and turned onto her side, so I rolled over. After making each other come in the shop, it had seemed stupid to ask her to keep sleeping on the couch. But now a cloud of doubt cast a shadow over me.

  We hadn’t planned any of this. I’d only meant to give her a place to crash until she got back on her feet. And then yesterday had happened.

  Did I suddenly have a live-in girlfriend?

  I didn’t know if I had room in my life for this. Could I trust her? Was I ready to trust anyone? I didn’t know if I could open myself up to another person again—risk getting hurt.

  And yet, here I was, waking up with her in my bed.

  I got up and got dressed before she woke up. I needed some space. Sasquatch and I went for a walk in the woods, and the cool morning air helped relax me. When I came back, Fiona was drinking coffee in the kitchen, her hair wet from her shower.

  I kissed her good morning—seemed like I should after yesterday—and told myself everything was fine.

  Working on the Pontiac helped. Sure, Fiona was in and out of the shop while we both worked, and sometimes she sang along to my music. But I didn’t mind her being there. I hadn’t since we’d come back from the road trip. In fact, I could admit it was nice having someone around.

  Especially her.

  And then I remembered what day it was. Tuesday.

  That meant dinner at Gram’s.

  Should I invite her?

  She was standing in the office sorting through something on the desk. I watched her from across the shop. She wore a red headband in her hair and she’d put on a lot less makeup than usual. It made her hazel-green eyes stand out against her fair skin. She’d been cold earlier, so I’d given her my flannel shirt to wear. It was too big, looking more like a robe than a shirt, but it was cute with her tank top and jeans.

  Jesus, I’d given her my shirt. Was a flannel the same as a hoodie? Was giving your girlfriend your hoodie still a thing, or had I aged out of that?

  This was what I got for not dating anyone since college.

  And now I was obsessing over what it meant that I let her wear my shirt. For fuck’s sake, she got cold. She was always cold. I gave her my shirt; it wasn’t like I’d given her a goddamn engagement ring.

  But that didn’t settle the question of dinner.

  If I brought her with me, my family would be… my family. Gram would probably say something cryptic about the sky or the forest or something, and my brothers would be obnoxious. And they’d all assume me bringing her meant something.

  All it meant was that I liked her and we’d made out like teenagers yesterday.

  In reality, I already knew I was going to bring her, it was just taking me a while to talk myself into it. I hadn’t brought a girl to dinner at Gram’s… ever. My ex had never come to meet my family, which, in hindsight, should have been a huge red flag.

  Sasquatch looked up at me.

  “What? Your life is simple, you have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

  His head swiveled toward Fiona, then back to me.

  “Yeah, I know. I like her, too. That’s kind of the problem.”

  I took a deep breath and a jolt of nervousness hit me like a spark. What the hell was I nervous about? This didn’t have to be a big deal. I was going to have dinner at Gram’s. Why not bring her?

  “Hey, Fiona?”

  She looked up from whatever she’d been doing and a smile lit up her face. “What’s up?”

  God, she was beautiful. Not traditionally beautiful, like a model. She was badass beautiful. Dark hair, pale skin, nose ring, tattoos. She was no kitten hiding a set of razor-sharp claws. She was sweet beneath that rock chick exterior, but it was a different kind of sweet. It was honest.

  I stopped in the office doorway and leaned against the frame. “My gram has dinner at her house every Tuesday for me and my brothers. Whoever’s around just shows up.”

  “Family dinner every week? That’s so awesome.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, today’s Tuesday. Do you want to come?”

  Her eyes widened a little and her mouth opened and closed a few times, like she wasn’t sure what to say. “I’d love to.”

  The weird sense of nervousness faded. Had I actually been worried she’d say no?

  Fuck, I was falling apart. I needed to get my shit together.

  A couple of hours later, Fiona sat behind me on my bike, her arms wrapped around my waist. Riding with her was surprisingly enjoyable. I’d never asked her if she knew how to ride, but she seemed comfortable—not everyone was, even as a passenger. And I kind of liked the feel of her back there.

  We drove to Gram’s and for once, it looked like I wasn’t the last one here. Asher’s new truck was parked out front, but no sign of the other three. Unless they’d ridden in the bed of Asher’s truck, which was a possibility. They basically all lived right on top of each other, and not that far away.

  I parked and we got off. Fiona took her helmet off and glanced around.

  “This is literally the cutest house I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Look at all these flowers.”

  I’d never really thought about it, but Gram’s house was cute. It was an old farmhouse with a big porch and a yellow front door. Flowers were starting to bloom pretty much everywhere and the way the windows glowed with light as dusk fell, the whole place looked downright friendly.

  “This is where you grew up?” she asked.

  “Mostly, yeah. We came to live with Gram and Grandad after our parents died. We were all pretty young.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I looked down at her, grateful for the sincerity behind her words. “Thanks. It obviously sucked, but we were lucky to have our grandparents.”

  “That’s good at least. Oh my god, I’m suddenly so nervous. What if your gram doesn’t like me?”

  “She’ll like you.”

  “But what if she doesn’t?”

  “I’m sure she’ll like you.”

  I hesitated for a second. Should I hold her hand? Put my arm around her?

  For a guy who’d had his hand in her panties yesterday, I was being awfully indecisive about casually touching her.

  I grabbed her hand—it was so small in mine—and led her up the porch stairs to the front door. We went in and found Gram, Asher, and Grace in the kitchen at the back of the house.

  Grace paused setting the table to give Fiona a friendly smile. “Hey, Fiona. It’s good to see you.”

  Gram turned. She had a wooden spoon in her hand and she smiled warmly. “Well, hi there, Wolf.”

  “Hey, Gram. This is Fiona.”

  “Lovely to meet you, honey,” Gram said, then lifted her eyes to mine. “Good boy.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Bailey.”

  “None of that, now, Cricket. You can call me Gram.”

  Cricket? I glanced at Asher, but he just shrugged.

  “Okay. Well, Gram, your home is so beautiful. I love all your flowers out front.”

  “Thank you. Gardening helps keep me young. So do my peckers.”

  Fiona gasped. “You have chickens? I love chickens. I love plants, too, but I haven’t done a lot of outdoor gardening. I’ve never had the space for it. But I’d like to someday.”

  “If you’re ever in the mood, you can come by. I’m always happy for some help.”

  “I’d love to. Thank you.”

  Gram caught my eye and smiled.

  Half a second later, the front door flew open and the rest of my brothers barreled in.

  “Dude, no,” Logan said. “It would never work.”

  “I’m telling you, it would,” Gavin said.

  Levi snorted. “This from the guy who thought the snow blower idea was a good plan.”

  “It’s still a good plan, you just don’t—” Gavin stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and
a wide grin spread across his face. “Hey, Fiona.”

  I put a possessive arm around her shoulders and drew her next to me.

  “Hey, you guys,” Fiona said.

  Gavin patted me on the shoulder. “Thanks for bringing her, bro.”

  “I didn’t bring her for you.”

  Gavin just smiled.

  With all of us here, the kitchen descended into the chaos of multiple conversations. Somehow Gram peeled Fiona away from me and the two of them talked about chickens while they finished dinner. I took a seat at the table.

  “Here, Cricket, would you mind opening this for me?” Gram handed Fiona a small carton of cream.

  She set it on the counter and pinched the sides together to open the top. It seemed like it might be stuck, and I was just about to ask if she needed help, when it popped open, splashing cream all over.

  “Oh no, I’m so sorry,” she said.

  The cream dripped off her hands and some was on her shirt. All I could think about was how much it looked like the mess we’d made in the shop yesterday.

  We seemed to have the same thought at the same time. She met my eyes and her cheeks reddened.

  My face got hot and I swallowed hard.

  Gram handed her a kitchen towel. “Don’t worry about it. These things happen. It’s easy enough to clean up.”

  Fiona met my eyes again, pinching her lips together like she was trying not to laugh.

  Gavin snickered. I whipped my face toward him. Logan was stifling a laugh behind his hand. Obviously the visual hadn’t been lost on them.

  Or maybe they were laughing at me. Was my face red?

  Assholes.

  Fiona got cleaned up and the rest of us helped get food on the table. People started taking their seats, saving Gram’s usual place for her.

  Gavin pulled out a chair. “Here, Fiona. There’s a spot right next to me.”

  I growled at him.

  He grinned again.

  “Thanks, Gavin,” she said.

  I took the seat on the other side of her.

  Dinner was delicious, as usual. Having Fiona here felt… different. Not like she didn’t belong or I shouldn’t have brought her. It was more like clicking a missing piece into place. She made easy conversation with everyone. Laughed, smiled, and enjoyed her food. Almost like this wasn’t the first time she’d been here.