Surrender (20 page)

No response.

“Did you hear me? I’m crazy in love with you.” She shrinks away. I’m losing my fucking mind. I
know
she feels the same. I know it. If words don’t work . . . My arms engulf her, and she sighs. My hands are quick to soothe with long, passionate strokes up her back. Her head falls against my chest.
Fuck.
Instant erection. My body can’t live without her. I fill my hands with her hair and force her head back. Those big blue eyes are like wishing wells. “Stay with me,
please.
I’m sorry.”

“I need you.” She caresses my back.

I can’t take this slow torture any longer. I pick up her backpack, then sweep her off her feet. She’s lost serious weight. I curse myself for causing her so much pain and self-doubt. She was already so thin, and now she feels like skin and bones. I don’t speak. I walk to my truck, open the passenger door, and gently set her down on the seat. I run to the other side and get in. I drive to my house. Gretchen won’t be home until the weekend. Robyn doesn’t move. When we get there, I reach over her legs and open the glove box. I retrieve her necklace.

“I’ve gone fishing almost every night this week hoping to find you. I prayed fervently for one chance to see you again. One chance, baby. And here it is. I’m not going to let you go again.”

“Garrick,” she murmurs my name.

I unhook the chain. “Pull your hair aside and lean forward.” The clasp connects and I watch the pendant fall freely between her breasts. My body is on fire. “Will you come inside?”

She nods and opens her door. We meet at the front of my truck. She knows what’s about to happen, what
has
to happen. Our bodies were made for each other. She belongs to me. I caress her cheek, and her eyes flutter shut. I’m wound so tight I could explode in my pants. I swallow a moan. Her hands blaze a heat trail across my chest. “Upstairs,” I growl in her ear.
Upstairs and straight to my bed.

Her body melts under my kisses. I deepen them, awakening her hunger. Her skin is hot. I tear my mouth from hers only long enough to remove my shirt, then hers. She lifts her arms above her head and her halter top slides off. I fight against every instinct in order to remain gentle. She’s braless. I kiss each breast, suckling both nipples reverently—desperate for contact. My gaze wanders over her body. I kiss the solitaire between her breasts.
Mine.
She reminds me of a gypsy princess in that flowing skirt, large hoop earrings, and windblown hair. My dark Texas beauty. A moan escapes my lips when she pinches my nipples, a small smile playing on her full lips.

With sleepy eyes she tickles the sides of my neck, pressing her breasts against me, nipping my earlobe. Heat surges inside me. Her fingertips are magical. Soft and warm as they glide across my stomach, then downward. She kneels in front of me and unzips my jeans, releasing my rock-hard shaft. She cradles me, stroking and kissing me from tip to balls and back again. I slide my fingers into her long, dark hair and throw my head back. She captures the tip of my cock between her teeth. I look down at her—she’s smiling seductively, swallowing me inch by glorious inch. The vision of her lips locked around my cock, those blue eyes gazing up at me, nearly sends me over the edge. “Robyn . . .” My resistance is low. I’ve suffered miserably without her.

I offer my hand. She grips my fingers and stands. “Dance for me.”

She nods. I drag the chair from my computer desk beside the bed and position it so she’ll have enough room to move. Next, I grab the remote for my stereo from the nightstand. I sit and click. Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” blares from my Bose surround sound. The combination of her half-naked body twisting and the sexy beat of the music drowns out all thought. She intoxicates me—fills me with such urgent need I’m incapable of thought.

She faces away from me at first, her back arched. Very slowly she runs her fingers up her sides—my gaze follows the imagined pathway her fingers make—and hugs herself, thrusts, then bends at the waist. I stare unblinking at the soft curves of her ass through the gauzy material of her skirt. My dick throbs painfully. I close my eyes. When I open them, she’s settled at my feet, leaning back, her head resting in my lap. Our gazes meet. She shuts her eyes and hugs herself again, squeezing her breasts together. Then she rises seductively and spins. My hands itch to touch her. She braces her hands on my shoulders and dips. Arches, then sweeps her breasts across my face.
Holy shit.
I’m so turned on my ass cheeks clench.

She deliberately captures my face between her breasts. I suck in her soft scent. As her thick hair tumbles over my shoulders, my balls tighten. I clamp onto her slender hips as she sways. I refuse to let go. Breathless from her effort, she straddles me and presses her tongue between my lips while she locks her ankles behind my back. With her ass resting on my lap, she falls back gracefully, dangling inches above the floor. She pumps her hips, luring me closer. I lean forward, gripping her thighs tight.

I’m done waiting.

Holding firmly to her left leg, I jam her skirt up. I focus on the sublimity between her legs. I shove her panties aside. When she’s inches from my mouth, I growl, slipping my hands beneath her butt cheeks. She sighs as I lift and drag her closer . . . She squirms in my grasp. She’s as turned on as I am—ready for me to love her. My thumb traces the outline of her wet mound. I lick her clit deliberately lightly, teasing and tasting—savoring what I’ve been deprived of for too damn long. My gaze flicks to her beautiful face to see she’s consumed with pleasure, her lips parted, head flung back as my fingers penetrate her. She moans as my thumb thrusts deeper. I lift her again, my tongue swirling imaginary shapes inside her.

Her soft, feminine whimpers kindle a fire inside me. Tenderly, I lower her to the floor. I stand, watching her intently. I kick my tennis shoes off and slide out of my jeans. She gazes up at me languidly, fueling my desire. I palm myself, grimacing in pain. Her eyes grow wide—she’s waiting. I hold my breath as I lower myself on top of her. She spreads her slim legs in welcome. I watch as I rub my erection across her wet snatch, up and down, saturating myself with her sweet moisture. She digs her fingernails into my back, crying and squirming, begging me to fill her.

I nuzzle against her ear. Her soft, rapid pants excite me. With a groan I stab, feeding her a few inches of my cock. She’s so wet and aroused I have to concentrate to keep it together. I finish it with one solid thrust, now fully encased inside her. Within seconds I feel the pulse of her orgasm. I grit my teeth.
Not yet, little bird . . . I’ve only started to love you.
I pull out of her, still fully erect. She cries a complaint. I flip her onto her stomach and slide between her butt cheeks, piercing her hard and deep. She moans into the floor.

“You’re too hot,” I exclaim. I press into her, burying my face in her hair. Minutes later, when she screams in climax again, I can’t hold back any longer—I pump her full of my hot seed.

I never expected to see Garrick at the pier. After ten days, it felt safe to return. I tremble, remembering the moment I heard him call my name. I nearly crumpled. Now I’m wrapped in his arms, tucked safely under the sheets on his bed. My life is a whirlwind of unfettered emotions and crazy sex. And love. His. Freely given to me tonight. Only, I can’t say it back. No matter how hard I try, those three little words refuse to come out of my mouth. Instead, my love is a big, jumbled mass in the pit of my stomach. Too afraid to disperse, too afraid of rejection. But I do love him.

I fidget with my newly returned pendant. I imagine it’s his personal mark on me, like a tattoo—proof I’m his. And anyone that sees it will know. Craig. Carlos. That asshole at Rosario’s. I admit it feels incredible to belong somewhere,
to someone.
Even if it lasts for only a little while longer. Addicts wean themselves off drugs. Garrick and I ended abruptly. Cold turkey. I felt like I was drowning.

He shifts behind me, his arms closing hard around me. “I can’t sleep,” he says. “There are too many things I need to say before this night ends.”

“Whatever you think you need to say,” I assure him, “I know it already—your body spoke to me . . . believe me.”

He rumbles with laughter. “There’s a big difference between great sex and what I intend to say.”

I nod.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he says.

I flip over. Our faces are inches apart—we gaze at each other. I love the dark color of his eyes. The bristly stubble on his unshaven face. I run my fingers down his cheek. He doesn’t need to say anything. His confession on the pier, pledging his love—oh my God, should I believe it? My heart skips a beat. His fingers skim across my cheek, nose, and lips. His mouth opens, then shuts.

I incline my head. “Is everything all right?”

“Better.” He sighs. “Our time apart killed me baby, right here.” He holds his hand over his heart. He cups my face between both his hands, then kisses me. “I want you to know how sorry Gretchen is. I’m sorry . . . for everything.”

I don’t know what to say. Gretchen’s words still haunt me. I’m not good enough for her
 
only brother. I can quit stripping if I want to. Her feelings couldn’t have possibly changed in so short a time. I appreciate his effort. “We don’t have to rehash it. Let’s enjoy the moment, Garrick—I’m here.”

He frowns and props himself up on his elbow. “The moment? Robyn, I’m not interested in mere moments with you. I want commitment. This relationship has surpassed physical attraction.” He cups my face. “I can’t tell you to what extreme I’d go to protect what we have. I love you. That won’t ever change.”

I move, lying flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I don’t believe in forever love. My own family gives and takes it away without thought. Why can’t we discuss something else—current news, the economy, world peace, health care, climate change . . . Instead, he wants me to relive one of the unhappiest moments of my life after making love? I’d rather evaluate how well he pleased me—and how satiated he is. I turn, throwing him a seductive look. Maybe I can shut him up . . .

“You’re avoiding my questions, Robyn.”

“Yes.” I won’t deny it. “Things are moving way too fast. A few hours ago I thought we were over. Now I’m here again. Give me time to adjust. I want the same things you want. For once I’d like to be happy,
really
happy. But we live in two different worlds, Garrick. Your future is set; mine’s up in the air.”

“It doesn’t need to be anymore.” He grasps my hand.

“Are you going to kiss all my problems away with that magic mouth?” I snort. “Sex doesn’t make our problems go away. It complicates them.” I’m on the defensive. The more I say in opposition, the more convinced he is to change my mind. I’m torn between the predictable world I’ve lived in and this alternate universe where I can be happy.

He sits up and adjusts the sheet. “I want you to move in with me.”

I’m stunned. I didn’t see that coming,
at all.
Give up my apartment? My private space? Share this house with him
and
Gretchen? I know she’s engaged, but I’d still have to see her half the time. She hurt me. Like so many other women have. I have serious trust issues. Love issues. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

“No.”

“No?” He sounds offended.

“I mean, I don’t know.”

Garrick squares his shoulders. He looks as exhausted as I feel. “Robyn . . .”

I hate that I no longer have the resistance I did a few weeks ago. I scream what he needs to hear inside my head,
I love you.
It feels like he can talk me into anything. So I avert my eyes. “I can’t.”

“Why?” He slides closer.

“I like having my own place. I’m not ready to give that up.”

“There are two empty bedrooms and a full bath available. Pick one—it’s yours.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Should I?” He positions himself on top of me, his hand sliding between my legs. He groans. “You’re wet, Robyn, hot and slick for
me.
” He starts grinding, his shaft slippery with my renewed excitement. “Say yes.”

I stare up at him, my whole body trembling. Resistance is futile—but I
can’t
do it. He thinks he can fuck me senseless and change my mind? Before I can express further concern, his tongue mutes me. He raises my arms above my head, holding me in place.

“You belong here . . .” he whispers.

I might be helpless against his growing passion, and I willingly surrender to the pleasures only Garrick Dempsey can give me, but the answer is still no.

Chapter Twenty

Garrick’s cellphone rings early in the morning. He accidently slaps the alarm clock and it falls off the nightstand. I’m barely awake, but giggle as he stumbles out of bed and flies to his dresser to answer the call.

“Garrison?” he asks. “I’m surprised to hear from you after all this time . . .”

I amble out of bed, headed for the bathroom. I stop short when I hear Garrick say, “How many days do you need me for? Five? Yeah—I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Sure. I’ll call later after I’ve confirmed my reservations. Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” He sets his phone down.

“What was that all about?” I ask.

“BP,” he sighs. “There’s a serious problem with mud pumps on a couple of the rigs; they want to hire me as a consultant. I helped design the system a few years ago. I feel obligated to go.” He stares at me, perhaps waiting for me to beg him not to.

I shrug. “Go—it sounds important.” I walk into the bathroom and shut the door. I’m not sure how I feel about being separated so soon after our reconciliation. I’d never tell him, but I don’t want him to go. Not now. I turn on the shower and climb in.

Garrick has been gone for eight days. Gretchen calls me dutifully each morning, an arrangement I’m sure her brother insisted on before he left. I’ve spent the week catching up on schoolwork, and in one class, jumping ahead of schedule on a major term paper and reading assignments. It’s Saturday, and I’m looking forward to work tonight.

By seven I’m on the floor. Three bachelor parties are already sitting between the main stage and the catwalk. Since I’m barred from participating in bachelor dances, a decision Darren Starr fully supports, I’ve been put in charge of a bowling team scheduled to celebrate a league victory in the VIP room. I smile when the team arrives, having half expected potbellied sixty-something men. Quite the opposite, all fourteen team members are thirty-something and fit. They’re dressed in matching black jerseys and jeans. Four tables have been neatly arranged in the VIP to accommodate them. I shake hands with all of them, then help the waitress serve bowls of pretzels and glasses of ice water.