Unbound Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Description

  Praise for Kimberly Derting

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Undressed Sample

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Description

  Praise for Kimberly Derting

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Undressed Sample

  Author's Note

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Kimberly Derting

  About the Author

  Do opposites really attract?

  Emerson Monroe McLean is a true Texan through and through. But she's never wanted to be like the other girls she grew up with, the ones who view debutante balls and sororities as stepping-stones to landing the perfect husband.

  Instead, Em has set her sights on becoming a sports agent, just like her “Aunt Bitsy,” the woman who helped turn her dad into a household name.

  Yet everyone underestimates Em. When they look at the leggy blonde, all they see is a serial-dater who leaves a string of broken hearts in her wake. What people don’t realize is that keeping guys at arms length is more than just about having a good time; it’s a deep-rooted defense mechanism.

  Lucas Harper is California born and bred. The product of his wealthy upbringing and an overbearing mother, Lucas has always been told where to be and when to be there. But after his older brother’s death, Lucas is tired of being a puppet.

  Taking a break to figure out what he wants out of life, he moves to West Beach to spend the summer surfing and planning a charity gala for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation—the disease that took his brother from him.

  At the beach, he meets Emerson McLean, the free-spirited beauty who lures him into her bed—there’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who knows what she wants. Refusing to be tied down, she’s unlike any girl he’s ever known.

  Can they find common ground...or will their differences tear them apart?

  Their chemistry is undeniable. There’s only one hitch: Lucas already has a fiancée. And when she lands on his doorstep, insisting he come home, Emerson realizes that for the first time in her life, she has genuine feelings for a guy.

  With her heart on the line, Emerson discovers that, win or lose, she isn’t the kind of girl to play by the rules.

  “Falling in love has never felt so good. With the warmth of the sun, and the sand between your toes, Derting takes you on the summer you always imagined with Undressed.”

  —Heidi McLaughlin, NY Times bestselling author of Forever My Girl

  (Soon to be a major motion picture)

  “A strong debut from a promising author.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “If you're in the mood for some psychological thrillers, evil masterminds, strong heroines and hot heroes, then I'd definitely pick up the Body Finder series.”

  —USA Today

  “…fast-paced and engrossing.”

  —VOYA

  “As always, this author writes a gripping tale...With another sequel set up, this intriguing series continues to provide great entertainment for suspense fans.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “a refreshing take on paranormal romance...”

  —Romantic Times

  “More great suspense from a prolific new writer with a vibrant imagination.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “This creative mystery has it all...the heart of a romance novel wrapped up in pages that almost crackle with the electricity of suspense.”

  —Justine Magazine

  “The explicit and unsettlingly candid tone of the killer reminds one of Robert Cormier's Tenderness (Delacorte, 1997), while several twists and turns keep the pages flipping. Older readers will quickly find themselves pulled into Derting's neighborhood.”

  —VOYA

  “You'll be drawn in by the love story-and kept up all night by the suspense.”

  —Claudia Gray, New York Times bestselling author of Stargazer)

  “Fans will be delighted to return to Derting's fantastical and amazing world, filled with spunky, brave and lovable characters.”

  —Romantic Times

  All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  UNBOUND. Copyright © 2017 by Kimberly Derting. Excerpt from UNDRESSED copyright © 2017 by Kimberly Derting. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews. For information, address Andrea Brown Literary Agency, Inc. at 1076 Eagle Drive, Salinas, CA 93905.

&n
bsp; Formatting and interior design by Novel Ninjutsu.

  Cover design by Bilan Inc.

  www.KimberlyDerting.com

  For Josh—

  Because of you, my world is a better place!

  EMERSON

  I came to a dead stop in the middle of the sidewalk, asking myself how it had come to this. How I’d failed my best friend in the whole wide world so miserably. Did she really believe in fairy tales? “You sure you wanna do this?”

  Lauren stopped too, midstep, as her shoulders slumped forward. “Em, we’ve been through this. I’m not abandoning you.” She dropped the box she’d been lugging and came back to where I stood. This whole beach-house-for-the summer thing had been her idea in the first place. A way to celebrate that college was finally behind us. She tilted her head to the side, studying me as she placed her hands over mine as I clung to the carton marked “BATHROOM” in bold black Sharpie. “It’s not like I’m skipping town or anything. I’ll be less than a mile away.”

  I shot a meaningful look to where Will—Lauren’s new roommate—had gone over and plucked her abandoned box from the walkway and was hoisting it into the back of his pickup truck. I lowered my voice, trying my best to be discreet. “I mean, are you sure you wanna move in with . . .” I gave a quick nod his way and resorted to pig Latin. “ . . . im-hay? He looks etchy-skay.”

  She took the box I was holding and passed it to Will, too. He managed it with one hand as he winked at me, not bothering to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping. “Me? I’m sketchy as hell,” he agreed, flashing me the dimple that had surely done Lauren in. “I plan to do shady things to your friend here.” Then he smacked her on her ass with his free hand, and she blushed.

  Fuck. It was too late. I’d already lost her.

  I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Go on, then. But don’t come crying to me when it all goes to shit.” I scowled as I imparted my wisest words on her. “And it sure nuff always goes to shit.”

  “Be careful, your Texas is showing.” She grinned, and then cast a calculated glance over my shoulder to the house next door—Lucas’s place. “Like you’re one to talk . . .”

  I settled my hands on my hips, preparing for battle. “If you have something to say, spit it out already.”

  She opened her mouth, looking like she was about to launch into another explanation about how I might not be keeping a toothbrush over at Lucas’s house, but that I’d hardly spent a single night at our place in the two months since we’d moved here.

  She was starting to sound like a broken record. This was the exact same discussion we’d had when she’d dropped the bomb on me that she’d be shacking up with Will.

  Eight short weeks. That’s all the time she’d known him and already they were moving in together. Not enough, if you asked me; not that she had.

  Thankfully, Will laid on the horn, letting us both know he had better places to be than stuffed inside the hot cab of his truck watching the two of us say our farewells. Instead, she wrapped me in a hug. “Not everyone is your parents, Em.”

  I wiggled out of her sappy embrace. When had my best friend become such a cliché? “And not everyone is yours, Lo.”

  She blew me a kiss as she climbed into the pickup. “I’m only a mile away,” she reminded me cheerily, before riding off into the sunset with her white knight.

  Me, I’d always been less about sunsets and white knights, and more about Sex on the Beach (the drink and the extracurricular activity), and as of late, one seriously hot surfer boy.

  I tried to tell myself I didn’t need Lauren—I was livin’ the dream. But who was I kidding? She’d been gone less than an hour and already I missed her. I’d spent the better part of that hour wandering our teensy summer rental, trying to imagine what my last few weeks would be like without her. It wouldn’t be the same.

  If this was what getting dumped felt like, I’d take a hard pass. No wonder there were so many cheesy country songs about it.

  That was the real reason I was here now, waiting on my hot surfer boy at his place. Lucas’s roommate, Zane, had picked up a double shift at the bar, so it would just be the two of us tonight, and I didn’t plan to waste a minute of our alone time.

  Lucas Harper was h-o-t with a capital H. Meeting him had been an unexpected complication to my summer plans, which had been simple: to slut my way up and down the West Coast, indulging in the sampler platter. One of everything California had to offer as a way of congratulating myself for surviving college and (finally) getting my best friend laid.

  I hadn’t counted on Lucas—the literal boy next door. You know, if the boy next door was hot, dark, and sexy as fuck. After sampling him, I hadn’t been able to resist coming back for seconds, then thirds . . . and pretty soon he’d become my favorite dish.

  I’d warned myself not to get attached . . . I couldn’t afford to get attached.

  When the keys jiggled in the lock, I jumped up and adjusted the girls, doing my best impression of Suzy Homemaker with a dash of porn star. Emphasis on the porn star.

  Lucas stomped through the door, his feet still caked with sand from the beach.

  “I made you dinner,” I announced, leaning across the table to give Lucas a better view of what I had to offer.

  As usual, Lucas didn’t disappoint. He never even glanced toward the takeout pizza box and the roll of paper towels I’d set out—my version of cooking. His eyes went straight to the cleavage peeking out from behind the apron I’d hijacked from a box Lauren had marked “KITCHEN.”

  This . . .

  This was the expression I’d been waiting for.

  Sure, it sucked that Lauren had abandoned me for Will, but I still I had Lucas. Sweet, hot, down-to-earth Lucas.

  “Great,” he said distractedly, and I couldn’t help grinning when he attempted to lean his surfboard against the wall but missed entirely. The board clattered loudly onto the tiled floor. He didn’t seem to notice. His eyes went suddenly dark—darker even than the mahogany they already were. They traveled down the apron, and I realized it probably dawned on him I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “I’m famished.”

  EMERSON

  The weird thing about me and Lucas was that even after two months of mind-blowing sex, I wasn’t ready to chew off my own arm in order to escape.

  I might not be ready to pack up all my shit and move in with him, the way Lauren had done with Will. But with my dating history, two months was practically a lifelong commitment. And yet, I still couldn’t get enough of Lucas. It wasn’t just the sex either. I was into the whole hanging out afterward part too. Cuddling and all.

  I’d never, not in a million years, admit it to Lauren, but sometimes it felt like someone had body-snatched the real me. Especially during moments like these, when Lucas and I were tangled together, his sheets twisted around our legs as his fingers traced lazy circles over the small of my back.

  We’d become the stuff of Hallmark movies. It was downright gag worthy.

  Lucas laid his head on my belly, using it like a pillow. “Did I lose you? You seem a million miles away from here.” His voice rumbled and the sound vibrated outward like my stomach was at the epicenter of an earthquake. My lady parts went on full alert. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  It was nearly impossible to be rational with his face so close to . . . well, everything, but what I’d been thinking was that I’d never been the cuddling type before. That Lucas Harper was never supposed to happen. Not like this anyway. He was only supposed to be one of many summer flings before I launched myself into the world of time clocks, commutes, and water cooler chitchat.

  But I refused to admit where my head was to Lucas. That I’d been stewing about how much I’d miss this when I went back to Arizona. And the husky sound of his voice in these moments . . . when we’d both gotten what we wanted from each other.

  That I would miss him.

  I tried to shrug off my gloomy mood, but when I opened my mouth, I sold myself out. “It’s not much lo
nger until I have to leave. Only about a month.”

  Damn. Why did that sound so sad?

  He lifted his head and studied me. “You don’t have to go.”

  Except, Lucas was wrong.

  “Lucas . . .” I sighed, but I didn’t elaborate. What was the point? We’d had this talk. He knew there was an expiration date on the two of us.

  “What can I do to convince you to stay?” He grinned then, and even though something in my stomach clenched, I couldn’t stop myself from grinning back at him. He moved then, shifted positions so he was no longer at my belly. He went lower.

  Him . . . his face.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped when his chin grazed the sensitive spot between my legs.

  “Convincing you . . .”

  I shot backward, scrambling away from him, making an excuse so I didn’t have to have this conversation—the real discussion—again. “I gotta pee.” I’d already explained that this internship was a game changer for me, at one of the most prestigious PR firms in Arizona. Almost my entire graduating class had applied for it. And despite all the nepotism and politics that had taken place behind the scenes, I’d been the one to land it. I’d done it the good old-fashioned way too, with my grades, my charm, and recommendations from every business professor who’d ever taught me. But I didn’t want this job because PR was my dream. I wanted it because this job was a stepping stone.

  More importantly, though, I needed this internship. Because without it, I would have to go home . . . back to my parents to ask them for help.

  Lucas gave me a skeptical look. “You just peed.”

  “Maybe I have a bladder infection.”

  He dragged me back and gathered me close again. “Like hell you do,” he grumbled, burying his face in the curve of my belly once more. “Fine,” he conceded. “You win.” You win—my two favorite words in the English language. But right now the victory was hollow. I felt like a jerk for even bringing up the fact that I was leaving at the end of the summer. For putting a damper on our night together. “We don’t have to talk about it.”