Unraveled- 8 Delicious Tale of Passion

by Fawkes, Sara

  wasn’t warms my heart. Thinking about the man—period—warms my heart.

  Maybe I’ll head back to the cabin. Run myself a bath in the big soaker tub and ease the unnatural

  aches from my body—a direct result of horseback riding—and think about him. Sometimes the

  fantasy can be almost as good as the real thing. Sometimes.

  At least it’s a plan, one that won’t cause any friction between people.

  I’m all set to leave when Connor sits down beside me. “Going somewhere?”

  “I was thinking of turning in.”

  “What? It’s not even eight o’clock. You don’t want to miss the singing, do you?”

  “I’m tired,” I explain.

  “Ach,” he says dismissing my comment. “Plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead.”

  I have to admit, I like his philosophy.

  “Besides,” Connor says, “I’m up first. At least wait until you hear me.”

  “You sing?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  I laugh because he’s got the enthusiasm of a kid in the body of a grown man. It’s infectious. “What

  are you going to sing?” I ask.

  “Do you know country music?”

  “Yes.” I may be a city girl, but I love country and western music. It’s just so emotionally charged.

  Plus, it’s usually in a key that is easy to sing along to, which is important to me because I happen to

  agree with Connor, everyone should sing, maybe not publicly, but at least in the shower.

  “Do you like Tim McGraw?”

  “Love him!”

  “Good.”

  After giving my knee a squeeze, he gets up and goes over to Brett who’s unpacking a guitar. Once

  Brett is ready, Connor steps toward the fire and addresses everyone in his stage voice. “If you know

  this song, please sing along with me.” He nods at Brett, who starts to strum, then he winks at me and

  starts singing the opening lines to Live Like You Were Dying.

  It’s a song about a man who’s been diagnosed with a terminal disease and his friend asks him how

  he is coping with the news. The guy answers that he hopes his friend gets the chance someday to... Live

  Like You Were Dying. It’s your typical heart wrenching country song with a catchy chorus, one that’s

  definitely easy to sing along to. Which I do. “I went skydivin’, rocky mountain climbing...I loved

  deeper and I spoke sweeter.”

  Wade sits beside me. I’m so caught up in the lyrics, I almost don’t notice.

  “You have a nice voice,” he says.

  “Not really.”

  He shrugs one shoulder. “Well, you make up for any lack in skill with enthusiasm.”

  “Thanks.” I indicate Connor, with my chin. “This could be his theme song.”

  He nods, his face serious. “It’s like it was written for him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He had cancer, Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma.”

  “What? Connor’s sick?”

  Wade shakes his head. “He beat it. He’s been clean for over a year.”

  “No way.”

  Wade nods. “The initial prognosis wasn’t good, so yeah,” he uses his chin to indicate the man

  singing. “Connor lives each day to the fullest.”

  “Wow. He’s amazing.”

  I feel Wade’s gaze on me. “You’re not much different.”

  I glance up at him and he looks like he’s going to say more, but we’re back to the chorus of the

  song and he starts to sing, soft and deep. With a grin, I link my arm through his and belt out the lyrics

  with gusto. Connor’s right, singing is good for the soul.

  When the song comes to an end, Connor does a series of bows, pretending to be modest and

  embarrassed by the resounding applause. “Not much of an attention seeker, is he?” I whisper.

  “Connor hates the limelight.”

  I look up at Wade. Of course he’s being sarcastic, but there’s something in his expression that

  surprises me. I can’t quite figure it out. But then, I’ve had difficulty reading his expressions from the

  moment we met.

  Brett starts the next song, Go Rest High on That Mountain, by Vince Gill. It’s another sad country

  ballad. Brett’s voice is soft and deep and he does a great job, though he doesn’t quite have Connor’s

  charisma. Speaking of Connor, he plops himself down right beside me. So now I’ve got Wade on one

  side of me, his massive thigh pressing against mine and Connor on the other, his hand going

  immediately to my knee and sliding crotchward.

  I take his hand and move it back toward my knee. “So, you sing. You ride. You do backflips over

  raging bulls...anything you can’t do?”

  Glancing mischievously at Wade, Connor says, “Nope. Wanna try me?”

  Wade noticeably stiffens beside me.

  “No thanks,” I say. “Not interested.”

  “Liar.”

  Clearing his throat, Wade extricates his arm from mine and says, “I’m going to help clean up the

  food.” He glances at Connor and nods at me before he leaves.

  I elbow Connor. “Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m being sarcastic.”

  “I’m not.” His voice sounds so different, so serious, that I turn and to look at him. “Look,” he says,

  softly. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but if I were to give you any advice, I’d tell you to stay

  away from Mr. Messing.”

  “Yeah. Nice try, cowboy.” I give him a shove. “That tactic isn’t going to work.”

  “I’m serious, Tessa.”

  I’m surprised to hear his grave tone of voice. Tilting my head in order to see him better, I ask,

  “Why? What’s his story?”

  “For starters, his wife left him.”

  “He’s not the only one who’s gone through divorce.”

  “Yeah, well...” he bites his lip as he watches Wade across the fire. “She left because he was too

  kinky for her.”

  “How kinky is too kinky?”

  “Let’s put it this way, Wade likes it all ways. And when I say all ways, I don’t mean all the time, I

  mean in every way imaginable.”

  “Oh,” I say, staring through the flames to where Wade’s conversing with Spud. Tilting my head to

  one side, I say, “So he’s into ball gags, cages and humiliation?”

  Connor snorts. “Who do you hang around with, city-girl?”

  I glance up at him.

  “This is the country, Tess. It’s mostly ropes and riding crops out here.”

  I regard Connor, through narrowed eyes. Something strikes me as strange. “How do you know so

  much about Wade’s sex life?”

  Connor’s eyes sparkle in the firelight. “Maybe the better question is, ‘what do you like, Connor?’”

  “Okay,” I smile. “I’ll play. What do you like?”

  “Well now...” he adjusts his hat. “...I don’t want you thinking I’m some straight laced cowboy.

  One of those one-trick ponies. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that life’s too short to be afraid of who you

  really are.”

  Thinking about Connor’s recent battle with cancer, I whisper, “Amen, brother.”

  “Brother, huh?” He nudges me playfully. “Now, I usually draw the line at incest, but for you? I’d

  reconsider.”

  I laugh and then go back to staring into the fire, thinking about what Connor’s told me about

  Wade. It doesn’t surprise me that Wade likes it kinky, not after the way he totally controlled me last

  night, not letting me touch him, not giving in to his own satisfaction. He has sexual dominant
written

  all over him. I relive a couple of the highlights of our time together, thinking about how he made me

  come so hard without even touching me. The man played me with words. That’s all. What would it be

  like to be totally submissive to him? To allow him to have his way with me? To unravel that tightly

  bound control he keeps himself under?

  To find out what he likes?

  “Look at those wheels turning.” Connor says, lightly taking hold of my chin and lifting my face up

  towards him. “Here I thought I was warning you off him, but look at you, you dirty girl. Chewing on

  your lip and breathing hard like you’re imagining what it’d be like to get naked and sweaty with the

  man.” He lets go of my chin. “Damn. So much for that plan.”

  I lean into Connor and laugh. But, across the leaping flames of the fire, I catch sight of Wade,

  easily lifting boxes and supplies from the cookout into the back of the pickup. He’s so big. So strong.

  What had he said last night? That last night was about me and tonight would be about him. Was that

  his way of warning me? If it was, his warning backfired as well as Connor’s because all I can think

  about is what it would be like to find out just how kinky he is.

  With my hand on Connor’s forearm, I say softly, “I need to talk to him.”

  “Why?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him all day and...I need to.”

  He sighs and then waves his hand toward Wade. “Go. Go talk to the big oaf, but don’t say I didn’t

  warn you.” Before I can get up to leave, he clamps a hand on my leg, holding me in place. “But,

  Tessa?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll be back in my room in an hour or two. It’s number three, main floor of the lodge. If you want

  to have some good clean fun, stop by.”

  I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for the offer.” Patting the spot I just kissed, I add,

  “But don’t be disappointed if I don’t show.”

  I’m about to leave when he calls me again. “Tessa?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I can be kinky too.”

  By the time I catch up with Wade, he’s already done loading the pickup and is sliding into the

  driver’s seat. I jog up and knock on his window before he has a chance to start it.

  “Yes?” His expression isn’t exactly welcoming. But, I’ve never been one to let that stop me.

  “Do you need help with this?” I point to all the stuff in the back of the truck.

  “No.” His face hardens into an unreadable slab of granite. Again.

  “I’d like to help.” I meet his gaze. “I’d like to talk too. I feel as if I haven’t seen you all day and, to

  be honest, I...well, I don’t know what’s going on. Between us.”

  There’s a rigid line running along the length of Wade’s jaw. He considers my request and then,

  ever so slightly, angles his head toward the passenger door. “Hop in.”

  Hurrying around to the other side of the cab, I jump into the truck. The seat is an old fashioned

  bench seat with a woven seat cover. It smells of tobacco, fuel and farm. You wouldn’t think it’d be a

  pleasant scent, but I like it. It’s strangely comforting.

  Like the song Connor sang, life’s too short not to deal with unresolved feelings and

  misunderstandings, so once the truck starts moving, I dive right in. “I had a really good time last

  night,” I say.

  “Me too.” The lack of inflection in his voice does not mesh with his statement.

  Squinting, I try to read his expression. No luck. “I was hoping to spend more time with you today.”

  He doesn’t say anything and I suddenly feel like I’m making a fool of myself, like Wade is trying

  to tell me something without actually having to come out and say it. But, that’s how

  misunderstandings start and so I plow ahead, because often the truth hurts less than the imagined

  truth. “You run the place, so...you’re busy. I get it. I just...” I look at him, he’s still staring straight

  ahead. “I get the feeling you’re pushing me into Connor’s arms. Like you don’t want to repeat last

  night. Is that true?”

  “This is your vacation, Tessa. If you’re attracted to Connor, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The two of you are better suited to one another.”

  “How so?”

  “He’s fun.”

  “You’re fun.”

  He rubs the side of his face. “No, I’m not.”

  “I had fun last night.”

  We reach the Big House and he stops the truck. It’s the first time he looks my way. But it’s just a

  glance before he focuses on backing up the truck to the side of the Big House where the outside door

  to the kitchen is open. Once he puts the truck in park, he swivels toward me. “Part of the reason it’s

  been a while for me, with women, is that I like...different things.”

  “Like what?”

  He rubs his lips together, regarding me in the limited light of the console. “I like to be—no—I

  need to be in charge.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Dominant.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “It’s just the way I am.”

  “I understand.”

  “The last time I was with a woman, I—”

  “Wade,” I place my hand on his thigh. “You won’t hurt me.”

  “You don’t know that. Not everyone likes it.”

  “I’m not everyone.”

  “No. You’re not.” He studies me for a long time before continuing. “I’m going to clean this stuff

  up. You should go back to your cabin, or back to the cookout.” He goes to get out of the truck but I

  grab his hand before he can leave.

  “Can I see you later?”

  Squeezing the bridge of his nose, he says, “I’ll be in my room by ten thirty. It’s down the hall at

  the very back of the Big House. But Tessa?”

  “Yes?”

  “If you come, make sure it’s what you really want.”

  Chapter Eight

  I’m sitting in the bathtub, bubbles around me, trying to figure out what to do. On the one hand there’s

  Wade. He’s big and powerful. Dominant. Serious. Complicated. I long for him and his big hands

  and...let’s face it, his big cock. The man has got to have a huge cock.

  I want it. I want to taste it. Run my hands along its length, lick it.

  But not just that. I want all of him. I want to know what he likes. I want to touch him. Not only for

  sex—I mean, of course I want sex—but I want to ease something in Wade. Maybe I’m naïve and

  maybe I think too highly of myself, but I want to wipe away his restraint, whatever it is that’s holding

  him back, I want to somehow let him know his desires are not wrong, not deviant—or at least, only as

  deviant as the vast majority of the population—as long as he’s with the right partner.

  Then there’s Connor.

  The simple thought of his name brings an automatic smile to my lips. He’s just so damn fun. And

  sexy. And charming. Being with him would be a blast. It’d be the perfect mix of playful and sweaty,

  sexy fun. If I had thought Connor was just another cocky, womanizer, out for a good time, it’d be

  easier to turn him down. But now that I know there’s a little more to him, that he not only fought

  cancer, but won and has chosen to live life to the fullest, well damn, if that isn’t attractive too.

  What the hell am I supposed to do?

  A good girl would
stay right here in the tub. She’d eventually climb out, put her PJs on and go to

  bed.

  We all know I’m not a good girl.

  But, I’m also not someone who makes decisions lightly.

  With a sigh, I slide down deeper in the tub so only my bent kneecaps and my head is above water.

  Maybe if I close my eyes, an answer will come to me, my subconscious will magically speak to me. I

  shut my eyes and take a deep breath, imagining I’m standing at my door and I hear a knock. Who’s it

  going to be? Who does my subconscious want it to be? Wade or Connor. In my mind, I can see the

  door. I even visualize the dead animal head on the wall, staring blankly at me. I smell the wood

  burning in the fireplace and I look down to find I’m wearing a sexy silk negligee that caresses the skin

  of my thighs as I move.

  As usual, my imagination has taken the scenario and run with it.

  I look up from the contrast of the deep red of the silk against my pale skin and stare at the door.

  The knock comes again. Slowly, I turn the knob. My eyes are closed in real life, but they’re also

  closed in my imagination. I pull on the door and...

  “Tessa?”

  In my imagination, I open my eyes. Both Wade and Connor are standing there. Connor’s holding

  flowers and Wade’s holding a rope.

  Shit!

  My whole body slides under water before I sit up, sputtering and wiping bubbles out of my eyes.

  Of course. What did I expect? How can I come to a decision when I want both of them? At once. I

  want to be in the middle of a delicious cowboy sandwich and having to choose between them is

  impossible.

  I need help.

  Your help.

  Will you help me?

  Will you tell me what to do?

  Who should I choose? Connor or Wade?

  To choose Wade, click here.

  To choose Connor, click here.

  Chapter Nine - Wade

  I was hoping a walk would help clear my head. Although the crisp autumn air is refreshing, the walk

  isn’t helping. Not one bit. I stand at the crossroads between turning toward the guest lodge and

  Connor’s room or going the other way, toward the Big House and Wade.

  I don’t know how long I stand there, but suddenly I hear the sound of crying coming from the path

  toward the guest lodge. I hurry in that direction.

  “Alex?”

  “Do you know where my mommy is? I don’t know where she is.” He’s standing there in