Everything You Want: The Complete Serial

By Evelyn Lyes

This is a NA contemporary romance.

Sometimes a kiss can change everything.

Part 1:
Twenty-five-year-old Callie has played the role of older sister to Blade Waldwell ever since she joined the Waldwell household after her parent's deaths ten years ago. He is her saviour and protector, the one who helped her pick up the pieces of her life after that traumatic experience.
Blade has loved Callie for nine years, but he fears that she will always see him as her younger brother and not the man he has become. Even though he promised himself to wait for the right moment to express his love, he gives into temptation and kisses her.
The kiss tosses Callie into a whirlwind of emotion, forcing her to see him in a new light and interlacing her love for him with attraction and desire. But as Blade begins to doubt the truth behind Callie's past, will the secrets of the past destroy their fledgling love?

Part 2:
Blade and Callie are back together. He finally has her where she belongs, in his house, in his bed and in the circle of his arms, determined to make up to her all the stupid things that he said and did.
They have fallen back into their previous patterns, but Callie feels that there is a subtle distance between them, and with him trying to hold his overbearing presence and pushy attitude at bay, he feels like a faded version of the Blade she fell in love with.
She thinks that his holding back is what he feels he need to do to forgive himself, but then she sees him kissing another girl, and suddenly his restraint doesn’t look so innocent anymore.

Part 3:
Blade, thinking that he was doing what was best for Callie, has ended their relationship and moved out of his home, even though she is the girl he has loved since he was thirteen years old and walking away from her feels like somebody has ripped his heart out if his chest.
Seeing the love of her life kissing somebody else and believing that Blade was cheating on her shattered Callie’s heart, then Blade stomped on the pieces when he moved out of the house, but her love for him is still there, an ache that will never die.
Even though she’s not willing to share him, she can’t give up on them. That’s why, even though she has never fought for anything before, she’s determined to do anything to win Blade back, as hers alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Lyes
• Release date: Apr 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311012890

Evelyn Lyes

Evelyn Lyes is the author of Everything contemporary romance Series. The Everything Series includes:Everything You Want 3-part SerialEverything HalloweenEverything Christmas SpecialEverything You Can't HaveEverything You Want to ForgetEverything You LoveEverything Valentine SpecialEverything You Do 4-part SerialYou can subscribe to her new release emailing list at: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1w2oSLi-wEbJ6vdCRUg4g2o6DL9qppFx6zrVYrEo70oc/viewformShe also writes YA and NA fantasy with clean romance under pen name Ela Lond.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Callie Gareney took big gulps of night air, polluted by the fumes of the city, as if that would help her clear the soft buzzing in her head caused by the alcohol in her veins. She wasn't drunk, but she wasn't sober either. Her eyes fell on the small group of people who stood beside her, chatting.

Where to now? The Spade? Camden, a tall, handsome blond, named a well-known bar that stood three doors down and closed at three o'clock, not at midnight like the bar from which they had just emerged.

Callie's hand went into her pocket and her fingers wrapped around the cold plastic of her phone.

A petite redhead looped her arm with Callie’s, her green eyes shining. I suspect Callie is not going anywhere.

Rose was right. Callie gave a smile to her second favourite co-worker -- the top slot belonged to Camden, but that was only because she had known him longer. She would have loved to continue the evening in the company of her friends and co-workers, celebrating the tenth anniversary of the café where they worked, but fifteen minutes ago she had gotten a text.

Don't tell me that your watch dog is on your trail again. Camden stepped into the pedestrianized high street, to move out of the way a group of people passing them.

Stop calling him that. Callie slapped his arm. He's close by, that's the only reason he's picking me up.

Isn't it suspicious that he's always close by when you go drinking with us? Rose asked.

There's nothing suspicious about it, Callie said. He's a teenager, he's out every weekend.

But not drinking, since he's picking you up. Don't you find that strange? Rose commented.

He's not a teenager anymore, not at twenty-two, or that means that Rose is a child, too. Camden grinned at Rose before his gaze moved to the street before them. Look, he's already here.

I'm not a child. Rose glared at Camden then followed the direction of his gaze. Poor boy, you still see him as a kid, but he hasn’t been one for quite some time. Well, at least he doesn't look like one.

Callie observed the biker dressed in black, slowly edging closer on his red Yamaha among the strolling groups of people, bicycles and a few slowly moving motorcycles. Despite Blade being only three years younger than she, she had been taking care of him since she was fifteen years old and he would always be her baby boy, who had helped her rise above the suffocating blankness and loneliness that had threatened to swallow her whole.

The red bike parked in front of her, forcing Camden to step out of the way. The driver took the helmet attached to the back of the bike and offered it to Callie. He gave her friends a short nod, the lights of the street lamp reflected in his visor.

See you on Monday, Callie said to them. She put on the helmet and climbed onto the bike behind Blade before she waved to her friends. Then they were off and even though Blade drove slowly, using the side roads instead of the highway, they arrived at the driveway of their house in the suburbs twenty minutes later.

Blade stopped in front of the house and, after she climbed down, guided the bike into the garage while Callie went inside. She stopped in the foyer where she balanced on one leg trying to push down her stupid boot. She lost her footing and she would have fallen down if not for a strong arm that wrapped around her waist.

Thanks. She didn't even look up at Blade, but continued to push the boot down her leg.

Blade sighed and still holding her leaned over and unzipped first her left boot then the right one.

Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Over her shoulder, Callie glanced at his chocolate brown eyes, her lips curving in a small smile. She kicked off her boots and she would have told him that he could now release her, when she found herself lifted up in the air and tossed over Blade's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She shrieked.

Stop wiggling or you will fall, Blade warned her as he carried her to her room. He passed the wardrobe parallel to the door, passed the dresser, the small armchair and end table, to lay her down on the bed.

With her legs dangling from the bed, Callie watched Blade climb over her, his knees framing her hips as his wide shoulders blocked the weak light coming from the hallway. Twenty-two, huh? He had grown up to be such a handsome man, looking so mature. Soon he wouldn’t need her anymore and then...

His fingers pushed the first button of her white cardigan free of the button hole.

In the semi-darkness she tried to see his eyes, hidden under the strands of chestnut brown hair that fell on his forehead. In reality, he had never needed her, he just pretended he did, for his father's sake, probably. She knew that, she just pretended not to because as soon as she openly acknowledged it, she would have to leave the safety of the place she had considered her home for the last ten years.

She touched his cheek. And she would have to leave him, the boy who had become the centre of her world. She wasn't ready to leave him, not yet, but she would eventually. One day he would get himself a girlfriend, if he didn’t have one already, he would start a family and then there would be no place for her by his side. Even now, he was already slowly drifting away; he kept her on the side line, out of his life. She didn't know where he went, where he hung out and who his friends were. Of all his friends, she knew only one.

His mouth curled in a smile and he leaned into the touch while his fingers continued to move along the edges of her sweater until he had unbuttoned all the buttons.

I'm not that drunk, you know. She lifted herself on her elbows, their foreheads almost colliding.

No? He waggled his brows. What a pity. He moved backward and when his feet touched the floor he stood up. Take a shower and go to bed, okay?

She sat up, frowning. Had he just flirted with her?

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jacket and moved backwards, his eyes on her, scrutinising her. Don't wait up for me.

She watched him turn and leave the room, then a moment later she heard the muted slam of the door and the roar of the bike as he drove away. She lowered herself back onto the bed. She would have asked him where he was going, but the last time she had done that he had ignored her question. She told her friends that he only picked her up because he was close, but lately it seemed like that was a lie. Why did he pick her up, insisting on driving her home? And then why did he leave afterwards?

Callie was still pondering those questions next morning as she prepared scrambled eggs on the stove in the small U-shaped kitchen. She heard the footsteps before strong arms embraced her middle and a body still warm from sleep pressed against her back.

Good morning, Blade's melodic voice, laced with sleep, greeted her. He leaned his chin on her shoulder.

She hadn’t heard him return home last night, but no matter how late he went to sleep, he always came down for breakfast. You are heavy.

Hmm.

Do you want anything besides eggs and toast?

Milk.

He always liked that combination. She smiled, then her mouth narrowed and she absently poked the white and yellow mass with the spatula. Why did you pick me up and then leave when I could have taken a taxi? Or we could have just gotten home later and you wouldn't have had to go out of your way to bring me home.

I promised my father that I would look after you. Blade's arms withdrew and he shifted away from her. From the hanging cabinet to Callie’s left, he took out two plates and utensils. He set the forks on the small table that stood a step away, under the window.

Dodging her question by trying to distract her, eh? Callie turned off the stove and turned around. You do know that I'm old enough to take care of myself?

Is it so wrong that I worry about you? He flashed his teeth in a charming smile, his head slightly tilted and his eyes full of child-like innocence, the look he liked to use on her to avoid the consequences of his mischief, or when he wanted something. He stepped closer, his brown eyes on her grey ones, and grabbed the pan from the stove, took a step to the side and started to pile the eggs onto two plates.

She pushed her way past him to take milk out of the refrigerator. She took the glass and poured the milk into it while he took care of the toast that waited to be taken out of the toaster beside the stove.

What are you doing today? She put the glass on the table and sat on one of three stools.

Nothing much. Sleep and then work later, on a project. He placed one plate before her and the other one beside her before he perched on the stool beside her.

If you have time, we could go shopping, since the fridge is almost empty, and this evening we could have a movie night? She took a bite of eggs and then a bite of the toast.

Sure, we can go to the store together, but as far as movie night, I'm meeting friends in the evening. What about tomorrow?

It has been ages since they’d had a movie marathon, and watching movies late into the night on Sunday when she had to wake up early on Monday didn't sound appealing to her, but she tried not to appear disappointed. Tomorrow is fine.

The sound of ringing came from the hallway.

Their eyes met and a few seconds passed in silence, since the stationary phone set in the living room rang so rarely that its sound was foreign to their ears.

Your father? Callie put down the fork and rose. Did he lose another cell phone?

That or he destroyed it again. Or maybe it’s just telemarketers? Blade shrugged his shoulders, his face blank, and dug into the food.

He hadn’t seen Jack, his father, for a year and to her knowledge the last time they had spoken was a month ago. Shouldn't he be more enthusiastic?

She was right, it was Jack and he had wonderful news. He was coming home. But when she announced that to Blade, he looked like she had just told him somebody died.

Chapter 2

Blade narrowed his eyes at the crowd on the dance floor before him, twisting their bodies to the beat of the music. He was in the company of his friends and he’d already had two beers, but he could still feel the tension lingering in his shoulders and neck. His father was coming home. He grimaced.

A blond behind him poked Blade with his elbow. Man, stop sighing and go dance or something.

I'm fine. Blade lifted the bottle of beer and took a sip, his eyes trailing over the people under flashing beams of white, yellow and red. He scrutinised the nearest girl, whose short glittered dress hardly covered her ass. She had great legs and seeing so much skin should entice him, but he felt numb to the sight.

Across from him, Greg, his best friend, rolled his dark eyes. You don't look fine. You are at least two beers away from fine. What’s happened?

Nothing. Blade drained the bottle and stood up from the booth. Anyone for another round?

Everybody nodded and Blade descended the two stairs that separated the lounge from the dance floor. He pushed his way through the sweaty bodies to the bar, where he leaned his elbow on the metal counter, half-facing the crowd. He waited until he could make eye contact with the bartender, mouthed the word ‘beer’ and showed him four fingers.

He took the beers, paid the man and then lingered by the bar, but not because of the blonde on the stool beside him, who fluttered her eyelashes. Come on, like that’s going to work on me, Blade thought. He shook his head slightly before he again directed his gaze at the people dancing. Sometimes, he allowed a girl to pick him up and take him home, but only on special occasions and only when a girl reminded him of her. But there were no girls who looked like her in here today.

No, wait. He lifted himself up on his toes to better see a girl in a black and white tunic, dancing behind a group of people who had parted just long enough that he was able to spot her . Yes, from a distance and from the side, the resemblance to her was remarkable.

The blond girl slipped off the stool, stepped closer and said hello to him. He ignored her, picked up the beers and carried them to the table. After he plopped them down, he shoved his way through the people on the dance floor. Above their heads he could see glimpses of the brunette from behind as she waved her arms, the braid of hair that ran from her left temple and ended in a tail at her right ear bouncing with her movement. There was something about that girl, something that called to him and that made her shine out for him like a beacon in the night. Not only did she look similar to her from the side and back, she also had similar posture. She was perfect.

Hey, handsome. A manicured hand descended on his arm, together with the overwhelming smell of sweet perfume and sweat. He shook it away without a second glance.

A man blocked his view of the girl, his arms pumping through the air.

Not a boyfriend, Blade hoped as he continued to elbow his way through the crowd, closer and closer.

A tall blond came near, he said something to the man.

The blond looked familiar and when Blade shortened the distance between them in two steps, he knew why. It was Camden, Callie's friend. His eyes fell on the redhead and then on the brunette, who was now half-hidden behind Camden’s tall body.

His mouth curled upwards. Callie, he said, the sound of his voice lost in the loud music. Then he furrowed his brows. What was she doing here, when she should have been at home, reading, watching telly or whatever? No wonder the dancing stranger looked like her, when she was her.

She better not be drinking; he knew what happened when she drank. The memory of a half-empty bottle of white wine glistening in the afternoon light was still vivid in his mind. He hated wine, but more than wine he hated the memory of finding her, sprawled half-naked on the bed, moaning, with a boy above her.

His shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched. How old had he been at that time? Thirteen? Fourteen? But finding Callie, his beautiful and cherished Callie, having sex with somebody who wasn't him had made him act like he was five. He had a violent tantrum in which he hurled the bottle of wine against the wall of the hallway; a washed-out outline of the stain still marked the spot. His snarls and his fisted hands had that boy running out of the house and had Callie crying, huddled against the headboard, a sheet tightly wrapped around her. His temper had scared her; the intensity of it had scared him, too, but he couldn't help himself. She wasn't his, she was his father’s, but he wanted her for himself. The desire for her consumed him and burned inside him with such intensity that sometimes he felt tempted to get her wasted and to use her diminished inhibition to his advantage. Not that he could ever do that.

Callie peeked out from behind Camden, her face lit up as her gaze landed on him and her mouth formed an 'o.' She darted closer to him, her fingers touched his arm and she half-leaned on him to yell over the music, What are you doing here?

He wrapped his arm around her waist, feeling the softness of his body against his side, and his mouth brushed against the shell of her ear. Don't tell me you are unhappy to see me?

Just surprised, that's all. She smiled up at him, her grey eyes sparkling under the flash of white light.

He cupped her cheek, trying to gauge how much she had drunk and how long before he would have to take her home. Actually, if it had been up to him, he would have taken her home that very minute, but he doubted that she would appreciate being sent home before midnight.

What?

Nothing. He smiled down at her and released her.

Dance with me. Her fingers trailed down his arm and she wrapped them around his hand, then took a step backwards, moving her hips.

Sure, Blade said to her, then nodded to the redhead, Rose, who was beside them, already twisting her body with the rhythm of the music, while Camden only lazily shifted his legs.

Blade held Callie's hand, imitating Camden's slow, slightly stiff movements while he watched Callie step closer then backwards, all the while shaking her hips and waving with her free hand, just the way they had been taught in a Latin dance class they had taken for a year when he was fifteen. Callie had wanted to learn and he went along, too afraid to leave her on her own. What if she met somebody?

Callie tugged him closer, caught his other hand, then put both of his hands on her hips, sliding her fingers between his. She leaned closer to tell him, You can do better than this. She took a step backwards, forcing him to follow, and then a step forward.

Blade glanced at their entwined hands resting on her hips, then at her eyes that smiled up at him. He swallowed, hard. Did she even know what she was doing to him? How difficult it was to keep himself in check when she touched him and looked at him like that? How he would love to press her against the nearest flat surface and ravish her? Over her head his eyes met with Camden's. He looked like he knew exactly what was on Blade’s mind.

A ballad replaced the fast music and Callie wrapped her arms around his neck. It became even more difficult to appear impassive as her delicious scent enveloped him and her soft curves pressed against his body. For a short moment, he had to close his eyes and deeply inhale the stale air, but it didn't help to suffocate the raw desire that had coursed through his body from the moment her hand first came in a contact with his skin.

Blade silently swore and, with the excuse that he needed a drink, he removed himself from Callie. When he returned with his beer, Callie and her friends were sitting around the small table near the DJ booth. He had told Greg that he would join them later after he got Callie home, but if they went anywhere else in the meantime, they should text him. He glided onto the bench beside Callie, eyeing her glass, which looked like it contained apple juice, but he knew from experience that if he tried the amber liquid, he would taste a Martini Bianco. He could never understand why she ordered a double and had them pour it into a normal-sized glass.

Callie shifted closer and her breath caressed Blade's skin when she used her hand as a megaphone against his ear. I thought you weren’t coming back.

Now it was his turn to yell at her ear. Why wouldn't I?

She shrugged her shoulders then leaned toward him again. I thought you would try to drag me home like you did yesterday, but you left your bike at home and even if you hadn’t -- her eyes lowered to the bottle in his hand -- you are already drunk.

I'm not drunk. He glanced at his watch. It was eight minutes past midnight. But I can't say that for you.

I'm quite sober.

I don't know. He shook his head and flicked his fingers against her glass, admiring the flush on her cheeks. How many of those have you had?

Her lips pinched and her eyebrows lowered. I know what you are trying to do. I'm not going home.

What am I trying to do? Blade faced her, his eyebrows rose up and a small smile played on his face. He rested his arm on the bench behind Callie.

I'm staying at Rose’s tonight, she said.

The smile was wiped off his face and his eyes narrowed, not at her, but at Camden, who sat behind Callie. He was aware that Rose and Camden were neighbours and at the thought of Callie being anywhere close to a man's bedroom, something twisted his insides into a tight knot. What if they were something more than friends and he hadn't noticed it?

Stop glaring at me. Callie poked him in his shoulder.

I'm not glaring at you. Blade stood up and wrapped his hand around her wrist. He tugged her upwards.

What are you doing? She resisted his pull.

He bent over her. We need to talk and I'm sick of yelling.

She rolled her eyes and after she told Camden that she would be back soon, she allowed him to pull her alongside the bench and up.

Holding onto her hand he guided her through the crowd, past the bar out of the main hall into the hallway with restrooms on one side and the exit stairs on the other. He manoeuvred her in front of him and against the wall.

She crossed her arms. Talk.

He needed to know what was going on between Camden and her. If there was something, would she deny it, afraid that he might tell his father about it? Or maybe she would admit it and beg him not to tell him, like that time he had caught her red-handed. Shit, did he really have to think of that again?

Talk, she repeated. Or I'm going back.

He leaned his forearm on the wall beside her head. Let's go home.

She sighed and her thumb and digit pinched her earlobe, something she did when she got irritated or didn't know what to say or do. Why are you doing this?

Don't go to Rose’s.

Stop being such a child. She jabbed her finger at his chest.

This time it was he who sighed. She still looked at him as if he were twelve years old, not twenty-two. What did he have to do to change that?

A group of customers forced him closer to Callie and with the stiletto heels she wore the distance that usually separated them was much smaller. Her mouth tempted him, seduced him.

Blade?

And the way she said his name... He bent his head, their lips almost touched and their breath mingled and her sweet smell enveloped him. He expected to be pushed away, but instead she stood there, frozen, her eyes dilated and her breath rushed. Closing the small gap would change things between them and he wanted them to change, he needed them to change, he yearned for the change. But the plan was to first finish school and become independent, then woo her and sweep her off her feet.

But his mouth brushed against hers and he was lost in the taste of her, in the texture of her. His hands cupped her cheeks and he drew her ever nearer, then his tongue plunged inside her mouth while his chest constricted in a bliss so intense that it ached. Love me. Be mine.

She whimpered. Then her hands shoved him away.

Don't, he breathed out, his palms still framing her face and his body trembling with the urge to taste her again, to drown in her sweetness.

You kissed me, she said breathlessly, all the while staring accusingly at him, her lovely mouth downturned and her cheeks red.

His arms fell against his sides. Why did she have to say it like that? Like it was something horrible. I... I love you.

She cursed; her elbow dug into his side as she turned and rushed away, leaving him standing there.

Chapter 3

At the noise of the blender, Callie wedged her arm under a pillow, rolled on her back and pressed the pillow against her ears as if it would hush the racket. She wasn't at home, she knew that, but where was she? The events of previous night flashed before her, her eyes shot open and she sprung up into a sitting position, the thick blanket pooling around her waist. He kissed me!

The blender stopped and Rose said, You said that already. Then the racket resumed again.

Callie blinked, then rubbed her eyes. He kissed me. This time her voice was soft and barely audible. Why? Why would he have kissed her? She fell backward on the sofa again, wrapped herself around the pillow and closed her eyes. And why didn't Rose find the fact that Blade kissed her shocking?

The blender stopped again and in the silence Callie could hear the small sounds that told her Rose had taken the plastic pitcher and was doing something with glasses. The sound of steps nearing and the plop of a bum onto the coffee table.

Callie opened one eye.

Rose sat on the low wooden table, smiling at her. Here. She pushed one of the two glasses of pinkish goo and a spoon into her hand.

Callie's fingers automatically wrapped around the cold glass. She opened her other eye and sat up. What is this?

I made ice cream.

You did? Callie's face lit up as her gaze again focused on the goo inside a glass. This is ice cream? For breakfast?

"Anytime is the right time for ice cream, even for breakfast. And it's not really ice cream. Just half-frozen bananas and strawberries and a spoonful of honey blended together. It's even better than ice