Sarah's Surrender (13 page)

And he wanted to touch her. The compulsion to have her wasn't easing up with familiarity. If anything, it was only getting worse. Every time he saw her, her skin became smoother, her hair became silkier, and her lips became sexier. If he didn't get some relief soon, he was afraid he was going to crack.

Other than the sexual tension he was feeling twenty-four-seven, everything else was going fine. He had been absolutely right, having someone take care of the myriad details and dealing with all the people was exactly what he needed. He couldn't believe how simple it was. Someone would approach him directly; he would hand out her card. If someone emailed him, he simply forwarded the email to her. It was a win-win situation. His conscience was quiet because he was donating a significant amount of money, but he didn't have to deal with any of the shit or any of the people.

Or so he thought until he walked into the veterinarian clinic to pick up the inoculation supplies for his cattle. The moment the receptionist greeted him familiarly, she asked him to wait and then she ran to the back office. Moments later, Dr. Hammond came out to talk to him personally. John liked Daniel Hammond, they had gone to high school together and the man was professional and ran a tight business.

They shook hands and after a couple of words of greeting, the vet gone down to business. The man immediately began talking about his sister, and how she was working at an animal shelter in San Antonio.

John saw immediately where the conversation was headed and he knew that this was the time to pull out one of Sarah's cards and set it on the counter.

But he couldn't do it.

He studied the other man, and he saw things he'd never noticed before. Sure, he knew the basics. The guy was single and the same age as he was. But what he'd never noticed or even begun to think about, was that the other man was good-looking. The doctor was well educated, and made more than a decent living. John glanced at the young receptionist and saw immediately that she was having trouble deciding which of the two of them to focus on. Her eyes kept moving between the two of them as if she was trying to decide which flavor she liked best.

John frowned as he realized there was no fucking way he was giving the dude Sarah's card. He quickly made up his mind to handle this one himself. "How much would help?" He cut to the chase.

Hammond named a figure that was acceptable to him.

John shook the guy's hand, grabbed his supplies off the counter and turned to leave. "I'll bring a check by later in the week."

****

John faced Sarah later that day across her kitchen table.

"I don't understand," she said in a puzzled voice.

"There's nothing to understand, babe. Just make out the check." He kept his voice level.

"You just want a check for three grand made out to the Loving Hands Animal Shelter?"

"Yep," he answered succinctly.

"Wouldn't you like me to mail it?" she questioned.

"No," he answered her as simply as he could.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to." He knew his answer was vague but he didn't really give a shit.

"Did I do something wrong?" Her voice was soft and full of confusion.

John watched Sarah as she shifted from one foot to the next. She looked quiet and withdrawn, and he knew that his request had rattled her. She obviously couldn't understand why he wasn't letting her handle this one. In the two weeks she'd worked for him, he'd let her handle everything. The phone calls, the e-mails, the decisions, and the follow through. So no doubt, she was a bit confused.

How much should he tell her? Exactly how honest should he be? He was sick and tired of waiting for her, maybe the truth would be a catalyst between them. "Daniel Hammond, the local veterinarian, asked me for the donation and I'm going to drop it by his office tomorrow."

She almost visibly relaxed. "Oh, there's no need for that. I'll do it. That's my job, after all."

"
No,
I'll
do it." He was getting damned tired of this.

"But--"

"No 'buts', babe. I've got this one covered. You're not taking the check, you're not going to his office, you're not handling this one."

"Why not?"

He frowned at her, his patience slipping, and then just said what he was thinking. "Because he's single, you're beautiful and I don't want you anywhere in his vicinity."

As his words registered, her face clouded with an expression that told him she thought he had gone off the deep end. Maybe he had. But she wasn't going over there and having a conversation with that smooth talking son of a bitch as long as he was alive.

"That's ridiculous," she said on a puff of air.

His impatience grabbed him by the throat and began winning the fight he was waging for control. He took a deep breath, but it was too late. His guts clenched with need and he felt like he was about to lose it. She'd put him off for so long with one lame excuse after the next. "You really want to go there? You really want me to tell you why it's
not
ridiculous? You want to push me into saying something? You want to push me into coming around the table and touching you?"

Her eyes dropped to his lips and her mouth trembled and he felt a vicious kick of lust that licked down his spine and landed in a rush at his groin.

She stood silently and try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from walking around the table, just as he had threatened. She backed up a few steps and just as he was about to reach for her, a jangle rent the air as her cell phone began ringing.

She turned away from him in a jerky motion and picked it up. He stayed close on her, invading her space, and made no attempt to even pretend he wasn't listening in on her side of the conversation.

"Hello?" She paused and he took a step closer. "Again?" She looked agitated as she spoke into the phone. Her eyes darted to his, looked away again quickly and then she took a deep breath. "Yeah, okay. Fine. I can't talk now, I have company." She listened and then answered the question almost hesitantly as if she expected a fallout. "John." He watched her closely as she turned away. "I get it, Jaime. I'll see you Friday night." She ended the call and set the phone down and moved to the refrigerator.

She kept her back to him in a defensive posture while she took out two water bottles and set one on the table that was obviously meant for him, and twisted the cap off the other.

He left the bottle on the table and leaned against the counter in a move that tried to contain his rising anger. He didn't care for it one bit when she attempted to ignore him. He cared for it even less that she wasn't telling him something.
Hiding something from him
. He folded his arms over his chest and tried to tone it down before he lost it completely. "You'll see who on Friday night?"

She picked up a dishrag and wiped at an invisible spot on the counter as she threw over her shoulder, "Jaime."

He gritted his teeth and sucked in a sustaining breath. There was no fucking way she was going out prowling with that chick again. If she thought for one second he'd let her go to that goddamn meatmarket she was delusional. He was seriously becoming pissed at himself for loaning the money to open the damn bar in the first place. It had seemed like a reasonably good idea at the time, and now he only had himself to blame. It occurred to him for a second that he could call in the loan; Steven wouldn't have the money to keep the place open. That would sure as shit stop her from going there in the future.
Shit
. He couldn't do that. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

She was totally fucking him up. Did she honestly think he'd let her go out with that girl again? He needed clarification that Jaime was the gossipy chick. "And Jaime would be the cock-blocker?"

She stilled completely and then turned to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry? The what?"

"Cock-blocker."

Sarah stared at him and stiffened her shoulders. He absolutely couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. The man was an ass, purely insufferable. "And that would be. . ." Her voice trailed off as she asked for his meaning.

"The chick that's trying to block my cock from your pus--"

"Shut up!"
she screamed across the room, cutting his words off. "No! You
did not
just say that."

Sarah tried to slow her raging heartbeat as he stood watching her. They glared at each other from the space that separated them until he finally spoke in a low, overly controlled manner. "Where do you think you're going with her on Friday night?" He made it sound like it was just a crazy little dream in her head, that there was no way that it was actually going to happen.

She intentionally infused coolness into her tone as she answered him. "To the Cut-n-Shoot."

"No, you're not." His voice was laced with an inflexible command, like he was the damn king and she better not even think about arguing with his supreme right to tell her what to do.

Oh hell, no
. She was going to the Cut-n-Shoot on Friday night, even if she didn't really want to. "Yes, I am."

"Ain't happening, sweetheart," he negated in his smooth, Texas drawl, obviously using the common slang for effect.

His cool, aloof words only irritated her more. "Who the hell died and made you my boss?"

"I am your boss, sweetheart. And there's not a chance in goddamn hell you're putting on those tight little shorts again and strutting your shit for every horny mother-fucker to look at. It's not happening. The only possible way you're
ever
going to that dive again is if I take you. And trust me when I say, your leash will be short."

Sarah heard his words and felt like her brain was going to explode. His arrogance was unbelievable. He stood in her kitchen, wearing those damn scuffed-up boots, with his arms crossed and his biceps straining against his black t-shirt. The look on his face said it all, and why the hell was he so sexy? Why was she even now standing here getting so turned on she felt almost faint with it? What the hell was wrong with her? She'd lived in Texas her whole life and never,
ever
met another man like him. For the sake of women everywhere, for the sake of all the entire female population, she should quit his damn job, throw him out of her house, and refuse to ever speak to him again. Why did she have an insidious little feeling that that wasn't how this was going to end?

She tried to cover her confusion with belligerence. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do."

He stared at her intently and replied sharply, "Damn sure can."

She gave him a cold, abrasive stare. "You don't have the right." She spit the words out contemptuously.

His lifted off the counter and stood to his full height, his eyes darkening to black slits. He came back at her immediately.
"I've got every fucking right."
The words were spoken in harsh, furious anger. They were inflexible, menacing as they left lips that were clenched in rage. She could see his temper literally rise up about a thousand degrees.

Suddenly, the air between them changed. Electricity charged around them as the sexual tension that was always between them ricocheted to a new form.
A dangerous form
. The gauntlet had been thrown down in front of her and Sarah knew that whatever happened next, with the words he had just spoken, her life was about to change one way or another. Either he was in it, or he wasn't.

She knew with a certainty that shocked her that she wanted him in it.

Still, it didn't stop her from attempting to fight him, to maintain her independence, to establish a few ground rules going in. "I don't belong to you. I'm not your possession."

He pushed away from where he stood. "We can solve
that shit right now
."

She held up a hand to ward him off. "Don't come any closer."

"Bullshit." He kept advancing toward her. "I'm sick of this shit. I'm sick of walking on
goddamn
eggshells around you. You're not going to give it up until I force you into it."

"Give it up?" she shrieked as she put the table between them.
"Force me into it?"

"Yeah, give it up. The concept is pretty fucking simple, babe. You. Me. Naked. A bed is optional. And trust me, you want me so goddamn bad that force won't come into play. You think I don't know you're wet for me already? You think I don't know that you're having to fight yourself more than you're fighting me?"

Sarah was getting angrier by the second. But she knew most of that anger was directed at herself. How could this be happening to her? How could she have fallen for such a hard-assed, hard-nosed, rude, stubborn bastard? Was he sexy?
Hell, yes.
Was he hot?
Incredibly so
. Did he make her want to rip his clothes off and taste him from his feet to his head and everywhere in between?
God, yes.

But why now? How could she have gone from such a laid-back fiancé who never pushed her for sex and never even noticed when another man spoke to her to this?
Her leash would be short? Jesus Christ.

As she stood across from him now, with only the table separating them, she felt the arousal rise up from within her and fight for dominance with the anger she was feeling. Her nostrils flared as she began hyperventilating. "Stay away from me." He stalled in his tracks for a couple of seconds and then rapidly rounded the table until he was in front of her, towering over her. His hand reached out and she backed away from him, only narrowly making her escape. But it didn't last for long. His hand snaked out and she was halted from flight by his grip on her wrist.

He pulled her up against him with a sharp move and their chests clashed violently. She began twisting and pulling, trying to get away from him. He executed a quick maneuver, and in an instant, he had her arm twisted behind her back in a grasp that ruthlessly contained her and put an end to her struggles. A spiral of heat immediately hit her low in her pelvis. She wasn't scared, he wasn't hurting her as long as she stayed completely still, but when she attempted to struggle again, his hold tightened and she finally gave up all together. Her eyes flared as she realized her body was subdued completely. She stared up at his face and read the feral, atavistic heat in his eyes. Their verbal duel had suddenly turned into a contest of sexual domination. And going by the harsh, assertive expression he wore and the aggressive hold he had on her, not to mention the river of delight rushing through her bloodstream, she knew it wouldn't take much to tip them both over the edge.