Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
SUMMER
We ate dinner on the screened-in porch overlooking the river.
Wearing the fluffy white robes provided by the inn, we moaned over the amazing steak and twice-baked potatoes, fed each other bites of chocolate and raspberry cheesecake, and sipped the champagne that was part of the Honeymoon Cottage package.
Surrounded by so much pristine luxury, it was hard to believe we'd spent the first part of the evening in a dingy biker bar and musty strip club. Our stomachs full, we filled the massive soaking tub and climbed in, Evers pulling me into his lap, my back to his front, our legs entwined.
There, immersed in steaming, scented water, he fulfilled his promise to tease.
I rolled my head back on his shoulder, my lips grazing the side of his neck, his ear, his jaw, as his hands slid along my soapy skin, cupping my breasts, squeezing my nipples, dropping between my legs and sliding up over my belly, my ribs.
He was everywhere and nowhere, his cock between my legs, not seeking entry, just there, its hard length a tease in and of itself. I lay still as long as I could, reveling in his undivided attention until I couldn't stay still any longer.
When his roaming hands had me on the edge of insanity, I flipped over, splashing water over the sides of the tub, and settled myself on top of him, reaching between us to guide his cock where I needed it most.
It was my turn to tease. I rode him slowly, offering my breasts to his mouth, letting him feast before leaning back, grinding my hips down, playing until he lost patience and clasped his hands around my waist, holding me still and thrusting hard, driving me over the edge, following a moment later.
He helped me from the tub, drying me carefully, reverently, before lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the bed. We lay there beneath the fluffy white duvet, arms and legs tangled, kissing and touching. Murmuring nothing and everything until sleep pulled us under.
Waking up in the honeymoon cottage, sunlight streaming through the tall windows, it seemed like no darkness could touch my life again.
Evers slept beside me, his face relaxed, looking younger than I'd ever seen him.
His thick dark hair fell over his forehead, his tanned skin warm and soft as silk.
I slid a hand down his chest, fingertips absorbing the ridges of muscle, the lines of his abdomen narrowing into a V pointing straight to my destination.
I woke him with a kiss before taking his already-hardening cock between my lips and tasting him, teasing him awake. I owed him one after the night before in the tub.
Evers' hand sank into my sleep-tousled curls, holding on as I worked my mouth over his length, sucking and licking, my mouth watering and so full of him.
Evers was a lot to handle, but I had enthusiasm on my side. I'd always loved his taste, the way he filled my mouth, the sounds he made when I squeezed the base of his cock and sucked hard.
I loved his voice, rough with sleep and heat, saying, "Summer. Oh, God, Summer."
I thought about climbing up, riding him until we both came. Later. There'd be time for that later. Right now, I wanted his pleasure for myself. I wanted to bring him to the edge and send him over, just like this.
When he said, "Summer, I'm going to… I can't…," and tugged my hair, I didn't move. I couldn't quite take all of him, but I tried, squeezing the base of his cock and sliding my hand in rhythm with my mouth until he shook beneath me, his hips thrusting, giving me his pleasure. Giving me everything.
When he caught his breath, he hooked his hands under my arms and hauled me up the bed. Rolling to pin me down, he kissed me hard and deep before pinning my hands above my head and tasting every inch of my body until I was limp with satisfaction.
I was half dozing when he threw on a robe and ordered breakfast.
"I should get up," I said, "take a shower." That big, lush bathroom with the oversize shower and Evers. I'd get out of bed for that.
"No, you shouldn't. You should stay right there. We can take a shower after breakfast. We don't have to go anywhere yet."
Still in his robe, Evers crawled back into bed. I rolled into him, pushing the lapel of the robe back so I could rest my head on his chest. He stroked his fingers through my hair.
"I could stay here forever," I said.
"Here is nice," he agreed, "but as long as I have you, I can go anywhere."
His sweetness struck me dumb. I couldn't think of what to say. I believed him. It wasn't that.
A voice in my head was saying, I love you.
I love you.
The words wouldn't come out of my mouth.
I believed that Evers loved me.
I did.
I wanted to believe he did.
I wanted to give him those words, but they were stuck.
All I could say was, "I missed you so much."
That was the truth.
Evers craned his neck to kiss the top of my head. "Me too. I missed you like crazy."
Evers wanted me. I wanted him.
We'd messed it up—mostly he'd messed it up—but we'd figured it out and we were together. That's what was important.
And still, those three little words stuck in my throat.
Evers didn't seem to notice. I was relieved. Once I got used to having him, I'd be able to say them. I knew I would. I just needed a little more time.
Now that we were together again, we had all the time in the world.
We lay there, me listening to his heartbeat while he ran his fingers through my hair until a knock sounded on the door. Breakfast.
After we ate, we showered, got dressed and packed our bags. Evers was quiet as we checked out, making no mention of the possibility of returning for a second night.
Fun time was over. We were back to work.
We drove straight to the address Evers had for Warren Smithfield. Funny that I'd never known his last name until now. A thought occurred to me as Sawyers Bend disappeared in the rearview mirror.
"Why are we going to Warren's? Why aren't we going to my Dad's place? I thought he lived around here?"
Evers didn't answer right away. Sending me a cautious look, he said finally, "We have cameras in his place. It's empty."
"You had cameras in his place in Atlanta and you took me there."
"His place in Atlanta had been tossed. Harder to tell if anything was out of place." He pressed his lips together before flashing a quick, embarrassed smile. "And I wanted you alone. Away from Rycroft. You wouldn't talk to me, but you wanted to help your dad."
"Hmmph." I didn't know what to say to that. Sweet and sneaky. That was Evers. I wasn't going to complain. "If you have cameras on his place here, you know when he was home last."
"Three months," Evers said, the embarrassed smile replaced with a tight jaw.
"What? If he hasn't been home, where has he been?"
"A lot of people would like the answer to that question."
Our problem in a nutshell.
Warren didn't live in Sawyers Bend proper.
We drove back toward Asheville before turning on to a narrow country road that transitioned from pavement to gravel to dirt, barely wide enough for two cars to pass.
We must have bumped along the dirt road for over a mile, never seeing another soul.
The only sign of inhabitants were the rusted mailboxes that popped up here and there, drunkenly leaning in every direction, looking as if the postman hadn't touched them in decades.
Evers slowed as we reached a hunter green mailbox with the number 48 drawn on the side in black marker. He turned down the rutted drive, his SUV bouncing and jolting. I grabbed the handle above the door to steady myself before I bounced right off the seat.
At first glance, the house at the end of the drive looked abandoned. Cracked windows had been repaired with frayed duct tape. Sagging cardboard boxes were stacked haphazardly on the porch. A washing machine that could have been from the fifties sat in the center of the front yard.
There wasn't much grass. Definitely no landscaping. The front steps were cinderblocks tilting in the dirt, the storm door sagging on its hinges.
Evers gave me a forbidding look. "You stay in the car."
"No." Before he could argue, I explained, "Warren knows me. I haven't seen him in a while, but he knows me. He takes one look at you—"
I scanned Evers' charcoal suit and crisp blue-and-white striped shirt. He'd left off the tie, but that didn't make him look any less like a wealthy, successful businessman.
Looking at him, no one would guess he was an excellent shot who could handle himself in a fight. To a man like Warren, anyone dressed like Evers meant one thing. Trouble.
One look at Evers and Warren would barricade the door.
"You need me. Warren wouldn't hurt me. He's not dangerous."
"You don't know that. You said yourself you haven't seen him in a while. He's friends with your father, and your father is in deep shit. You don't know what's behind that door."
"I know we have to talk to Warren. We're here now. I'm coming with you."
Evers sat for a long moment, his eyes on mine, thinking. Finally, he opened his door. "Stay behind me."
That I could do. Mostly.
Evers tried knocking on the door and calling out Warren's name. As I'd expected, no response.
I had a feeling if I hadn't been there Evers might have used a less conventional method of gaining entry. Something along the lines of putting his foot through the door.
I called out, "Warren? Hey, it's Summer.
Smokey's girl. Listen, I'm looking for my daddy, I just want to talk to you for a minute.
Don't mind the guy with me. I know he's a suit, but he's okay.
Could you open the door? I promise we're not here to give you any trouble.
I just want to talk to you about my dad. "
The house remained silent. I tried again. "Warren? Please? I really don't want to bother you, but we came all the way out here, and I can't leave until I talk to you. If you could open the door—"