Unbound Trilogy Boxset Read online

  I ran to my room and recalled the happenings around our home before my father died. Elizabeth must have persuaded and turned him into a dishonest man; he became involved in some shady business deals with some even shadier people. At the time of the investigation, I didn’t quite understand what the detective meant when he’d ask me questions about my father’s business.

  Elizabeth is nothing but a poisonous black widow who played on my father’s grief of never getting over losing my mother.

  Things declined from that day forward. I could hear them whispering behind my back. My mother’s jewelry disappeared from the safe in my father’s office. Shadow became more of a stalker, and the three of them spent money on unnecessary things. Before I knew it, I became an unwanted girl in my own house.

  She got rid of everyone and everything that meant anything to me. No more household staff who were like family, because they were all fired. Every single one in a blink of my young girl eye.

  My entire life as I knew it stripped away. Elizabeth and her devil children sold everything in an estate sale to the highest bidder and when I screamed and fought and attacked, letting them know how cruel they were. They laughed in my face and let me know my father’s oil business was handed over to her family. From there it would be sold. My legacy and the hard work my father put into owning a successful business was gone.

  Then Elizabeth shoved me into the system with nothing but my wealthy-known last name. I was all alone and rightfully scared.

  The thought of how scared I was makes me want to weep.

  Thankfully, after two months of living in foster care, I was saved by our family’s cook — the woman who taught my mother and me so much about life. Renita Williamson fumed her way into social services and demanded they place me in her care. It was a quick transfer for Renita to become my guardian due to my age and the fact I knew her.

  “Are you sure this dress isn’t too short?” I tug down the hem of my deep purple backless lace dress and loop my hand through Norah’s arm, shoving away the weird feeling that things still don’t seem right.

  I don’t know why I care about the way I look, because frankly, I could give a shit what others think about me. Maybe it’s the Bentleys, the Maserati’s, parked in the driveway. Reminding me of the times evil men would drive up and enter our home as if they owned it.

  My father used to tell me not to worry, that everything he was doing was securing a future for me. I believed him because not once had he ever lied to me, not even the times when he came home drunk after my mother died.

  No, those nights were when he was the most honest. Crying and telling me how sorry he was that he couldn’t find his way back to me.

  “Please don’t ask me about the dress being short again. If you do, I’m going to rip it off and expose the hottest body I’ve ever seen on a woman. Also, if it makes you feel better, if I weren’t into men, you and I would be married by now, and when people asked what attracted me to you, I’d say have you seen her legs? They are tone and long. How about her ass, you really can bounce a quarter off it, trust me, I’ve done it, and don’t even get me started on her rack, because, cleavage.” Norah smiles, her grin full and sly.

  “Oh, shut up; you work out as much as me.” I slap her hard on the ass.

  My heels click on the marble floor as we walk through the empty dining room and into the loggia that overlooks an Olympic sized pool.

  My jaw drops. There are at least a dozen red velvet couches, tables with candles, bartenders making drinks, and red drapes that surround what appears to be private little cabanas.

  It’s an outdoor paradise that screams seduction. I suck in a breath, feet wobbling, body in confused chaos. If this is a sex party, I’m no longer going to have a best friend, given that; I’ll kill her.

  Thanks to my overactive mind as a child, a father who loved skeet shooting and taught me, I’m a perfect shot. I’ll nail her between her pretty deep brown eyes. Not really, but I’ll be angry.

  My palms turn damp and sweat beads at the nape of my neck. A peculiar sense that I’d been here before tugs at my awareness, all the while I’m confident I’d remember this place if I had.

  Nervously, I straighten my shoulders, swallow, rub the pads of my fingertips against my thighs as we step out into the open. My nerves fray and float away in the wind — apprehension tugging at my temple.

  “Norah, what in the ever-loving hell is going on?” I breathe hard through my nose to temper down the angry vibration of my muscles, the rage bubbling in my veins ready to boil any minute.

  “I don’t know.”

  She’s lying again, and I am pissed.

  Women who were laughing a second ago, stop and glare our way, their beady little eyes raking up and down Norah and me in contempt, scowls on their judgmental faces before they turn up their noses, carry on in conversation and sip on champagne in designer dresses and expensive shoes, diamonds and gems draping off their necks and ears.

  Bitches. I hate women who act like they are better than others.

  Men in expensive suits give us the once-over, and rest their gazes on our breasts, licking their lips and flashing shiny Rolex watches on their wrists before bringing a crystal tumbler to their mouth.

  I’m not impressed.

  These are the types of people giving me another reminder of why I hate money. Not that I care who they are, or what they do, I don’t; it’s the way they think they are better than everyone else. The way the men hold back no reserve as their gaze strips me naked.

  “Jesus, I need a drink, like a double shot of the good strong stuff,” I whisper, suddenly feeling more uncomfortable in my skin.

  I take a deep breath. I don’t like it here at all.

  I narrow my eyes and look around, a deep instinct controlling my body. Someone here is staring at me with intent to harm. Well, whoever they are, they won’t see my dread. I’ve masked it well.

  The corners of my mouth draw up slightly into a genuine smile when something catches my eye.

  “Wow. Now that is nature’s beauty.” I’m thankfully drawn from my nerve-racking surroundings as I take in the view beyond the house. Lush green trees decorated in twinkling lights line a walkway leading to a wide open area lined with magnolia trees in cream and white.

  I’ve only seen one other field full of something as beautiful in my life.

  I damn near topple onto the ground as a memory arises.

  “Come on, Daddy, let’s pick Mommy some of our favorite flowers.” I ran ahead of him through the field of purple, blue, white, red, and pink blossoms, my ponytail swishing behind me.

  “I’ll race you, Bluebonnet, last one there is a rotten egg.”

  I look beyond the field filled with hundreds of blossoming magnolia trees as I absorb some of the best memories of my life and what I see is just as mesmerizing.

  I let out a melancholy breath and watch the sunset with an unwavering gaze as the fiery bright orange orb slowly sinks. Threads of light linger and spread across the sky, blending with the rolling clouds, and streaks of red, orange, gold, and blue swirl until all that’s left of the sunset is a color palette of dusty light mauves.

  It’s almost as stunning as a sunset behind Pleasure Pier in Galveston, Texas where I grew up, a place that will forever hold some of the best and worst memories of my life.

  But my awe-inspiring view becomes obstructed when a very tall man comes into sight. My breath catches in the back of my throat, and that knowing knowledge of being here in the past kicks me in my teeth, just as a hard magnetic pull unravels through my veins.

  Tugging and pulling and making me damn near stagger.

  The man approaching us is like a dark silhouette walking straight out of the horizon.

  The crowd quiets and everyone parts like the Red Sea.

  My eyes slowly crawl upward, long legs, thick muscular thighs hidden underneath a black tailored suit. A crisp white shirt covers what I know are abs made of steel and his sculpted chest and shoulders are all tucked awa
y beneath his matching suit jacket.

  I stop breathing when I get to his magnificent face. One filled with scruff I know all too well is softer than it should be, and he is staring directly at me.

  He’s caught me off guard, and he knows it, judging by the hint of arrogance in his eyes.

  Damn it. That’s twice in a matter of weeks I’ve been captured in this man’s spell.

  The power that swirls around him as he approaches is overwhelming as his bright green eyes take me in like a caress across my skin.

  I become lost in the translation of his command.

  His head tilts to the side, those eyes wandering fast, up and down my body so penetrating it makes me want to hike up my skirt, jump in the pool and cool off. Or drown him and my deceiving friend I can feel shaking in her skin next to me.

  This man holds some terrifying power amongst these people. Well, he’s in for a rude awakening because I won’t let him know he’s dangling it over me.

  His mouth, the same one that kissed me everywhere a few weeks ago, twists into an over-confident grin — an invitation welcoming me into his house of sin.

  “There you are, I was wondering if you’d make it. Good to see you again, Norah. So we meet again. Hello, Ellie. I’m Logan Mitchell.”

  No. He can’t be.

  I’m utterly speechless when I’d love to tell him sarcastically that he is a son of a bitch, but his sultry rough voice glues my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

  Damn Norah and Eric for putting me in an unwanted position; I should hate them both for this, Norah, especially.

  Logan’s nostrils flare, dark eyebrows lifting, and something similar to disgust flashes from the depths of his eyes, his mouth turning down as he twists his muscular body and scans the crowd before rotating once again and locking his green pools on my outraged blues.

  I’ve no idea if people are gawking at us, but by the way his posture went from relaxed to an angry stiffen, I would say yes.

  I don’t care. Every single one of them can fuck themselves.

  An overwhelming surge of heat rushes through me as his gaze lands on my mouth, setting my skin on fire.

  He’s drawing me in like a sedative. One you need, yet your mind is afraid of what will happen once you are pulled into the dark.

  He’s the reason why this place feels familiar. Logan Mitchell is the man I went home with, the man who brushed his big hands across every inch of me as if he knew the places on my body to set me aflame. Technically he probably does. Logan is the man whose name I never asked for, the same as he never asked for mine. He blew into my life like a storm — thunder and lightning knocking my sanity into a spool of want and need and consumption.

  He’s someone I never wanted to see again.

  He made me feel in ways I never saw coming. He took the hollowed out woman in me and filled me up with the passion and attention I needed for just one night, and he’s Eric’s boss? The man just about every woman in New Orleans wants. The man just as many men despise as wish they were him — a man who is paid top dollar to teach women how to please a man.

  A glorified male whore.

  The only time I’ve ever gone home with a man, and he’s the one. Oh, God. Not only am I embarrassed, I feel absolutely sick to my stomach.

  “The one and only Ellie Wynn.” Norah breaks up the tension, lets go of me and turns toward Logan. “I’m uh, just going to grab a drink and let Eric know we’re here. Usual for you Ellie, Logan would you care for something?”

  I nod, unable to form a word. Afraid if I do, it will be answered with my foot up her ass and a palm across Logan’s handsome face.

  “I’ll have a Budweiser; thank you.”

  Shocking, the man does manners underneath his walls of muscle.

  I take Logan in. God, he’s beautiful and he’s wearing a smug look that says ‘I’m the kind of man who gets what I want, and at the moment, it’s you.’

  Well, screw him, he will not have me ever again. Especially now that I know who he is. But that’s not all I know about Logan Mitchell, and by the hard stare he’s giving me, it’s clear he knows it too.

  Bastard. Liar and deceiving pig.

  Tonight, he’s much different from the jean-wearing man I met. But it’s him — the very man who I’ve thought about many times. The man who has had me losing sleep at night because I’m scared right out of my skin — the man who has me wanting to burn a hole by telling him off right through my tongue.

  I hate him.

  I want him.

  I’m scared of him.

  My heart clatters against my ribcage and my panicky breathing speeds to dangerous levels. I suddenly feel light-headed, and my mouth is ignoring my brain's instructions to at least acknowledge the man. I stare while he stares back at me. Those forest green eyes are overflowing with something like admiration.

  They spear right through me in a way I don’t want them to. Bursting with confidence, with a softness, and if I’m not mistaken, a little bit of worry.

  “Welcome to my home. It’s good to see you again.”

  For him, maybe. Not for me.

  “Even though it’s empty and reminds me of a dark dank awaiting tomb, it’s lovely.” I found my voice. It’s sarcastic and rightfully so.

  His muscular chest shakes with light laughter, and shit, what a chest it is. Big and rumbling with strength.

  “You’ve got a quick mouth on you, Ellie. I like it. It makes me wonder what else it can do.” The intensity grows in his eyes while his words hit me between my thighs.

  Throbbing.

  The night he brought me here, he melted my panties. Tonight, no matter how much he tries charming me, they won’t be coming off.

  “You’ll never know.”

  “We both know I will.”

  No, he will not.

  “Speaking of having a quick mouth. Here’s something you can chew on and swallow. I won’t submit to anyone. If I want you, I’ll have you. If I don’t, I won’t. You, you’re a…” Shit. I can’t even force the word, and I refuse to bend to his patronization. Him trying, pours more gasoline to the raging fire burning within.

  “A male whore? Is that what you’re trying to say? I was one, Ellie. I haven’t been in almost a year.”

  Possessiveness surges. Hard and heavy that it consumes my mind. I want to punch every woman he’s had before me. It’s a crazy notion when I don’t even know this man.

  Logan takes hold of my hand that’s dangling at my side and drops a kiss across each of my knuckles, dancing eyes searching mine. His touch is soft, familiar, intimate, and my skin tingles where his lips graze.

  “I sense there’s more your gorgeous mouth would like to say to me. Perhaps go to hell? Fuck off? Maybe what the hell is going on? Why was I at a dance club the night I brought you here and had the best sex of my life when I could have been at my club? Would you like to know what I’d like to say to you?” He reaches up and strokes my cheek.

  No, I really wouldn’t. The man already has my mind traveling back in time. Right back to ten years ago.

  “I’d like to tell you to get on your hands and knees, to spread those sweet thighs, pull my hair when I bury my tongue in between them. I’d like to know if our night together was as good for you as it was for me. I love to tell you to scream; only this time saying my name when I make you come.”

  I roll my eyes and swallow, pressing my thighs together as memories of him asking me to do all but the last assault me in the spot his intention wanted to hit.

  Logan Mitchell, I knew the name, but on him, I like it— Bossy, sexy, overly confident, dangerous. Most importantly, he’s one of Shadow’s friends.

  My stomach curdles, and bile churns.

  I also can’t help the way my tongue betrays me by unhurriedly darting out and running across my bottom lip, instead of telling him whatever game he’s playing is pissing me off. My body wants to thrust me forward to taste his lips, while my rational brain jerks me back in. Being reckless again isn’t going to keep me safe.


  “You might not be anymore, that doesn’t mean what you did was right. I’m curious, how many people would I have to perform this sex act on, in front of or, would you be between my legs while another man was thrusting himself inside my mouth? Maybe, I’d be the student you’d put in the middle of the class and bend over your desk.”

  Steam. I see it rolling off him and within seconds anger charges in the air.

  I keep right on pushing because my peace of mind has to know if the one man who destroyed me is here.

  “Where’s Shadow? Is he going to emerge the same as you?” The mere idea of anyone, regardless if they're a snob or not admiring that piece of shit the way they did Logan is enough to split me in two.

  I shake my head, my fury and disgust rotting my insides.

  “Here you two go.”

  I jerk my hand from his, accept my drink from Norah, feeling the uneasiness in her stare where it rests on the side of my face. Ignoring them both, I turn toward the pool, rather rudely, letting them carry on while I toss back my tequila, and brace a hand on the couch in front of me. Tuning them out entirely and examining my shoes. Suddenly feeling so far out of my comfort zone, I let out a silent scream.

  More so for falling into bed with a stranger when I knew. God, I knew I’d seen his face before. After I showered the night I left here, I wanted to pack my bags and run, knowing my past had caught up with me. I may have never spoken to Logan before, but I remember him sitting in the passenger seat of Shadow’s car several times while I stood in front of the big picture window after I moved in with Renita. Unintimidated and glaring as my stalker ex-stepbrother tried to frighten me.

  Logan picked me up knowing who I was, he’s up to something, and I won’t let him become aware of my fear.

  A gasp rips from my mouth, and my racing pulse hits dangerous speeds when two large hands cage me in — the oxygen-depleting from my lungs.

  I look down at those hands, big and strong, and lose reason when Logan presses up against me. His erection thick and long. Warmth hitting the flesh on my back, a sense of security as he cocoons me in. I had my own hands exploring every inch of his body, every dip and valley of his firm muscular stomach and shoulders. And his cock, my God, how I wanted to run my tongue up the length of it.