27. Evan
MakingFrannie come had become my favorite way to spend my free time. I loved the little noises she made when she was close, and the way her hips moved against me as she sought release. I was in heaven tonight because she’d been doing both.
Soft little whimpers floated past her lips as I teased her with her new present. Based on how her body responded, I was more than happy to share the limelight with the purple toy as long as my cock was the one to finish the job.
I eased the vibrator in and out while it rumbled in my hand. Seeing her so turned-on had given me the boner of a lifetime. I reached down and squeezed the tip of my dick to alleviate a bit of pressure. Frannie wrapped her hand around my shaft while her tongue delved deep into my mouth.
That was enough. Tossing the toy to the side, I sandwiched myself between her thighs. She was so fucking wet it didn’t take any effort at all to slide into her. Nice and slow. I savored every fraction of an inch. The walls of her sex clenched around me. It was cheesy as fuck, but all I could think as I seated myself deep inside her was that I was coming home.
Being with Frannie wasn’t just a release, it was a whole-body experience. Even my heart got in on the action. We’d always been close, but making love forged such a deep connection between us. If I could spend the next fifty years buried inside her, I would. It’s where I felt the most safe, the most at home, and the most loved.
“That’s it, baby,” I whispered against her lips.
She moved her hips back and forth, taking me deeper with each thrust. Her hair spilled over the pillow and her eyelids hovered half-closed. She was close.
“I’ve got you. Just let go.”
Her nails dug into my biceps as her body tensed. I loved everything about making love to Frannie, but the second right before she came was my favorite part. She looked up at me, a half smile on her swollen lips. Her eyes sparkled, then rolled back in her head as she gave herself over to her release. In the hours I’d spent memorizing the contours of her curves, I’d learned how to give her multiple “Os” right in a row. Instead of stopping, I continued to move, angling my hips to glide against the secret spot I’d found hidden inside.
“Evan…” She dragged me down on top of her and clasped her ankles together behind my back as the next wave rolled over her. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”
I chuckled. “No, baby. I’m trying to make you feel alive.”
She pulled back enough to make eye contact. “I love you.”
Staring down at her, my heart filled with enough sappy, sugary crap to keep me on a natural high for the rest of my life. “I love you, too. Now be a good girl and let me take care of you. We’ve already mastered two. I want to see if I can give you a third.”
For once in her life, Frannie didn’t argue. She lay back, sucked in a deep breath, and watched me kiss my way down her body. Her gaze held mine while I nipped at the sensitive flesh of her upper thigh. Then she dissolved around my tongue as I licked and lapped deep into her sweet heat. She was mine, and I was hers, which was exactly how we were meant to be.
My muscles groanedas I stretched my legs. I’d fallen asleep wrapped around Frannie, playing big spoon to her smaller frame. The sun filtered in through a break in my shades. It had to be after seven already. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it. Somehow, we’d slept past the alarm. Or maybe I hadn’t even set an alarm because I’d been so distracted.
“Frannie, wake up. It’s seven fifteen already. We overslept.” I rubbed my palm over her bare arm. There was nothing better than waking up with my arms wrapped around Frannie, her soft skin tucked against my chest.
“I don”t want to get up,” she said. “Can”t we just go back to sleep and call in sick today?”
“The principal wants to play hooky? Are you kidding me?” I asked.
“Is it hooky if I really don”t feel I’m at one-hundred percent?”
“Don”t you feel well?” I placed my hand on her forehead, testing to see if she had a fever.
She rolled over to face me. “Does it count if I have muscle aches and pains?”
“That depends. Are they flu-like symptoms, or did you overdo it last night?” Nothing would make me happier than shutting out the world and spending the day in bed with my girl.
“You”re hard on me, Evan.” Her lower lip stuck out in a playful pout.
“I thought being hard in you would be a good thing,” I teased.
“Hard on, not hard in.” She laughed. “Why does everything with you turn into a conversation about sex?”
That wasn”t fair. If I had to calculate percentages, I”d estimate only ninety-five percent of my thoughts had to do with having sex with Frannie. “Are you complaining, moon pie?”
“No. I’m just unprepared for feeling like I”ve run a marathon after every night I spend with you.” She burrowed into my chest, making it virtually impossible to peel myself away from her and get ready for work.
“Maybe you need a full body massage,” I offered. “What if we both called in sick and really did play hooky today? Would you be able to live with yourself?”
“I can”t remember the last time I called in sick to work.”
“Then you”re due.” I picked up my phone and pulled up the text chain I shared with my brothers. “I”ll do it if you do.”
She held out her hand, a devilish glint sparking in her eyes. “Hand me my phone?”
“With pleasure.” I passed her phone over and waited for her to open up her e-mail. Satisfied she wasn”t joking about taking a whole day for ourselves, I fired off a text to my brothers telling them I wouldn”t be in the warehouse today. We were between big batches and my assistant would be able to handle any runs that came through the line.
Holding up my phone, I turned it toward Frannie. “All done here. How about you?”
“Done.” She passed the phone back to me so I could put it on the nightstand. “What were you saying about that full body massage?”
“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” I asked. “Have you ever played hooky before?”
“Never,” she said, folding her hands underneath her cheek and rolling onto her stomach. “You”re a bad influence on me, Evan Bishop.”
“You know I consider that a compliment, don”t you?” I rubbed my hands together, warming them up so they didn”t feel too cold on her bare skin.
“Of course you would.” Frannie smiled up at me, then closed her eyes.
I worked my hands over every inch of her skin, pausing to pay special attention to the parts I was most interested in. By the time her massage was over, we”d worn ourselves out and needed a nap. It was after one when I finally convinced her to take a shower with me and come to the kitchen for a late lunch.
Frannie picked up the diary she”d left on the table the day before and flipped it open to where she”d slid a bookmark in to mark her place. “Did you know Cornelia”s parents forced her to break off her relationship with Logan?”
I gathered ingredients from the fridge to whip up an omelet. “What happened? In the last update you shared with me, she’d just been allowed to accept him as a caller. Why would they make her stop seeing him? Did they get caught with less than twelve inches between them on the porch?”
The antiquated rules seemed so strange and outdated, especially in light of how my relationship with Frannie had been going.
“Sounds like the Stewart family had something to do with it.” Frannie looked up and met my gaze. “Evidently, there was some dispute about whose land the spring that fed into the distillery rested on. Based on what Cornelia wrote, her dad said she had to marry Mitchell Stewart in order to solidify the business deal between the two families.”
“That never happened.” I shook my head.
“Well, it”s happening on the pages of her diary.” Frannie got up from the table and brought the book over to where I stood at the counter. “Look right here. She”s writing about how crushed she was when her dad told Logan not to come around anymore. A few pages later, she talks about meeting Mitchell in town to talk to the preacher about their upcoming wedding.”
I skimmed the barely legible writing on the faded page. “If there had been a marriage between a Bishop and a Stewart, don”t you think that would be a huge part of the distillery history?”
It didn”t make sense. If our families had been joined together in marriage, everyone would have talked about it. There was no way a wedding ever took place.
“What if it did?” Frannie asked. “What if that”s what caused the feud in the first place? Maybe Mitchell was a horrible husband. Maybe he mistreated her and they separated. Abandoning a woman back then would have left her in a desperate situation.”
“I don”t think so,” I said. “There would have been something on the record… a wedding date, or even a picture that would have shown them together.”
Frannie didn”t reply. She”d taken a seat at the table and buried her nose between the pages of the diary. Trusting her to let me know if she came across anything important, I pulled several eggs out of the carton and cracked them into a big bowl. I was always able to think better when I had a full stomach.
A few minutes later, I slid a plate in front of Frannie. She pushed it to the side without looking up from the diary.
“She doesn”t love Mitchell,” Frannie said. “Logan doesn”t want to give her up, and they”ve been meeting in secret. Maybe she ran off with him, and that”s why you haven”t been able to find anything written about her in the family history.”
“Maybe her dad disowned her. As fucked-up as it was, women didn”t have a whole lot of rights back then.”
Frannie picked up her fork and slid a small bite of omelet into her mouth without looking away from the page. “I”ve got to figure out what happens. She must have felt so alone.”
“I can ask Cole about it when I head into work tomorrow. How does that sound?”
“Do you really think he”ll come up with anything?”
The hope in her eyes made me want to come through for her. “We could stop by the historical society later on this afternoon if you want.”
“You mean when both of us miraculously start feeling better?” she teased.
“Exactly.” I finished my omelet and looked down at Frannie”s plate. “I”ll let you bring that book back to bed with us if you finish your breakfast.”
“I thought this was lunch.” She separated another bite from the rest of her omelet and stabbed it with her fork.
“Whatever it is, it”s keeping you and me from where we need to be.”
“And where exactly is that?” Frannie slid the bite into her mouth and closed her lips around the fork before slowly pulling it back out again. The woman could make something as simple as taking a bite of her breakfast look sexy.
“My bed. Now hurry up and finish before I get impatient and take you on the middle of the kitchen table.” I wouldn”t hesitate to do it, especially since I’d been picturing the two of us having sex on every horizontal surface available.
She must have sensed I meant it because she finished her omelet in record time. As she got up from the table to take her plate to the sink, she grabbed the diary. “I hope Cornelia’s love story turns out to be as perfect as ours.”
Perfect… I’d always hesitated to label anything as perfect. In my experience, there was no such thing. But as Frannie smiled at me and slid her hand down my arm to twine her fingers with mine, “perfect” seemed like the only way to describe how things felt between us.