Sweet Surrender (17 page)

F
aith took a shower and hurriedly dressed. Her stomach was a mess, and she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to eat a thing. She dried her long hair then brushed it and let it hang loose over her shoulders. She knew Gray liked it that way.

Mine.

His declaration still echoed in her mind and sent sparks to her girly parts every time she pictured the possessive look on his face when he’d said it.

Deciding on a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved pink top, she dressed and searched out a pair of heels. She gave herself one last once-over in the mirror, and then she walked into the living room where Gray waited.

He was standing by the French doors, thumbs hooked into his pockets. His blue eyes sparked in appreciation as he let his gaze drift over her.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

She smiled. “I’m ready if you are.”

He dug his keys out of his pocket then walked toward the door. When he got to her, he held out his hand. She slid her small hand into his much larger one, and his fingers curled tight around it.

Together, they walked out to his truck, and as he’d done the night at The House, he settled her into the passenger seat. During the drive into Galveston, they were silent, but Gray tucked her hand into his and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.

She took comfort in the intimate gesture. It made her less nervous. Like this was a date like any other. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she nearly laughed. This was nothing like any other date. This was what she’d been looking for, waiting for, wanting. Not much pressure there.

“Seafood sound good?” he asked, breaking the silence.

She nodded.

He slowed and made a left then eased into a parking spot. Then he squeezed her hand and looked into her eyes. She smiled shyly at the approval she saw reflected in his gaze. He leaned across the seat and kissed her, warm, soft, nonaggressive. Then he drew away and stepped out of the truck.

When they walked in, Gray spoke quietly to the hostess, who gave him a quick smile and nodded. She glanced past him to Faith and smiled again. Then she collected two menus and motioned them to follow her.

“What did you tell her?” Faith whispered as they walked behind the hostess.

“Just that we wanted some privacy.”

And sure enough, the hostess sat them in a corner booth toward the back of the restaurant. The closest people were at least six tables away.

As they sat, a waiter appeared to take their drink order. A few seconds later, they were finally alone.

Gray reached across the table and twined his fingers with hers. “We’ve…well, I’ve spent too much time avoiding you. Things have been crazy between us, moved way too fast. I want to slow things down just for tonight so we can learn more about each other.”

A contented glow warmed her chest. “I’d like that,” she said softly. “I don’t know much about you. Just what Pop’s told me. You’re a cop. You live in Dallas. You lost your partner earlier this year, and you’re taking a break to sort things out. I’d like to know more.”

He looked a little chagrined, as if he’d been expecting her to volunteer information on herself first.

“When was your last relationship?” she asked.

His mouth turned down into a frown. “Relationship? I’m not sure I’d call my encounters with the opposite sex relationships.”

She arched one brow. “What would you call them then?”

“Sex,” he said bluntly.

“And is that what I am to you? Just sex?” she asked softly.

He stared at her for a long moment. “No. And that’s what scared the shit out of me. Why I put you at a distance and tried like hell to stay away from you.”

“Why do guys freak out so much over the idea of a woman being more than sex?” she asked curiously. “It’s become positively cliché. Did your mother never hug you or something?”

His eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed. “No, I can’t blame my mother for my issues with relationships. I didn’t know her well enough for her to turn me off or on to the female populace.”

She waited for him to go on, not sure what part of that statement she wanted to tackle first.

He let go of her hands and leaned back in his chair. He lifted his glass to his lips and took a long swallow before setting it back down. “My issues with relationships stem from my frustration with not finding what I want.”

“We seem to have that in common,” she said.

He nodded. “I saw in you things that appealed to me. I saw a woman who I imagined being a perfect fit, but the old adage too good to be true kept coming to mind.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint you,” she said wryly. “I can only be myself. Just like you don’t want a script to adhere to, neither do I.”

“I wouldn’t ever want you to change, Faith. I like you just the way you are. Even if we don’t work out.”

“But you don’t know anything about me,” she pointed out.

He shook his head in disagreement. “I know that you’re beautiful. Loyal. Intelligent. Feminine. You know exactly what you want, and you won’t settle for less. You’re not afraid to surrender to a man.” He leaned forward again, pinning her with his earnest gaze. “There are two kinds of women I could never get involved with.”

She cocked her head to the side in blatant curiosity. The inner workings of a man’s mind…well that was definitely worth the price of admission.

“A woman who plays games. Mind games, sex games, whatever. I like a woman to be honest, not to hide behind a mask. The second is a woman who isn’t strong enough to surrender.”

That earned him another raised brow. She too leaned forward, her curiosity growing.

“I don’t want a woman I become involved with to become a mindless puppet any more than I want to become one. It takes a very special woman to submit to a man but still retain everything that makes her strong and unique. Her own person.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” she mused.

He shrugged. “It’s what I want.”

“And what about out of the bedroom?” she asked. “Does your control extend to every aspect of the relationship? I gathered that the game players you referenced are those women who only want good, kinky sex and then want to step out of the role as soon as they get out of the bedroom.”

He looked intently at her, his expression one of absolute seriousness. “I have no desire to be a tyrant. I just know me. I’m a control freak. I’m comfortable when I’m making the decisions. When you pair that with the kind of woman I’m most attracted to—a soft, feminine woman who I can protect and take care of—then I suppose I do want an all-encompassing relationship where I call the shots in and out of bed. Does that alarm you?”

She smiled. “No. Does it make me weak to admit that I want a man who can take care of me?”

A gleam of satisfaction shone in his eyes. He stared at her with promise reflected in every facet of his face. “I think you’re probably one of the strongest women I’ve ever met, Faith.”

She felt warmed by the praise and the admiration in his voice. And she’d have to be a blind fool not to see the lust in his eyes. Every time he looked at her, it was as though he was peeling her clothing off, inch by inch. She’d waited forever for a man to look at her like this. Like she was the only woman in the world. No, she didn’t feel weak. At the moment, she felt very powerful.

They were interrupted when the waiter brought their food. They relaxed and began eating. From time to time, Gray offered her a bite of his food, and he seemed to enjoy feeding her.

When they’d had enough, the waiter took their plates and left the check, but still, they lingered at the table. Faith was nervous about the return to the beach house. Not a bad nervous. She was still unsure of what to expect but was relieved that she wouldn’t have to make the moves. That was clearly Gray’s territory.

They chatted about innocuous things. Gray told her about growing up in a crime-infested neighborhood and how that influenced him to become a cop. He told her about his partner and Mick, his pseudo father figure.

She’d already suspected Gray was a very black-and-white kind of guy, and after hearing him talk about his job, justice and his partner’s death, she was more convinced that he wasn’t one to see anything in shades in between. Everything was either right or wrong.

Gray motioned for the waiter to refill their drinks. Then he regarded Faith intently as he sipped from his glass. “When you went to the sex club…”

She winced at the description. It seemed so tawdry. “The House,” she corrected.

He shrugged. “When you went to
The House
, what did you want to happen?”

“I would think it was obvious,” she said. “You saw what happened.”

“I was only there a few minutes,” he said. “You’d obviously been there for a while. Did what you saw interest you?”

Her face warmed. “Some of it,” she admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What parts?”

She looked down for a moment. “It was in part shocking. I mean I’ve watched porn movies, but I’ve never seen or experienced anything like that in person.”

“Did it arouse you?” he asked.

She slowly nodded. “Very much so.”

“Some of it more than others?”

Again she nodded.

“What parts did you like?” he pressed.

Her tongue lay thick in her mouth. Her lips parted as she worked to overcome her awkwardness. “When I first got there, in the downstairs rooms, there was a woman sitting between two men. Their attention was focused solely on her. It was obvious they both wanted her. I was jealous of her.”

He watched her, keen interest in his expression. “Go on.”

“Then when we went upstairs there were two men. I’d never seen two men having sex, not even in a movie. It was shocking, yet I was so transfixed I couldn’t look away. It was one of the most erotic scenes I ever remember seeing. And then there was a woman who was having sex with two men. In that moment, I wanted to be her so badly.”

“Having two men intrigues you?” Gray asked.

She flushed.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Would it surprise you to know that a lot of men fantasize about sharing their woman with another man?”

She cocked her head, intrigued by his statement. “Really? Do you?”

He shrugged. “There’s something primitive, not to mention erotic and arousing, about allowing another man to possess what’s yours, to fill more than one of a woman’s orifices. Simultaneously.”

Her face grew even hotter.

“You’re turned on by that,” he observed.

“What woman wouldn’t be?” she blurted.

“What else did you see at The House?”

“The spanking.”

“You liked it.”

She shifted in her seat. “It wasn’t so much the spanking. It was his control over the other woman. His authority. It was so dark and sexy. It started a yearning in me that made me feel like I was turning my skin inside out.”

“Yet when you took her place, the spanking did nothing for you,” he said quietly.

She shook her head. “How did you know?”

He smiled gently. “It was obvious. I could see your disappointment and your frustration. You needed more than what he was giving you.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It wasn’t real, and I knew it.”

He leaned forward, reaching for her chin, cupping it in his hand. Their gazes met and locked. “This will be real, Faith. I don’t play games.”

She shuddered delicately as the huskily rendered promise slid over her body. “I know.”

They sat in silence for a while, sipping at their drinks. Faith relaxed and let go of some of her nerves. The evening had been perfect. The idea that they had an entire week to explore each other gave her a thrill. She couldn’t wait to discover if Gray was truly the man who could give her everything she’d dreamed.

At one point, Gray set his drink down and looked over at her again. She could sense the forthcoming question. She looked inquisitively at him.

“Are you on birth control?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes,” she said calmly.

“My last sexual encounter was over six months ago,” he said. “I’ve had a physical since then. And there’s the fact that I’ve never not worn a condom when I’ve had sex with a woman.”

She shifted a little uncomfortably. “Well, my last checkup was a couple of months ago. The guy I was seeing until recently had blood tests before I would sleep with him. But we also used condoms.”

Gray nodded. “My question is how you would feel about us not using them.”

A whole host of colorful images flashed through her head. The idea of taking Gray into her body, skin to skin, was extremely arousing.

“You’ve never not worn a condom?” she asked.

“No. And if you’d prefer, I can have the results of my last set of blood tests faxed down tomorrow morning. I’m not some horny teenager willing to say anything to get into your pants.”

She smiled. “I believe you. And the thing is, I’d love not to have to mess with condoms.” She wrinkled her nose. “Without a good amount of lubricant, they’re extremely uncomfortable for me. But I have to be honest. The last time I had sex was right before you and I met for the first time. We used condoms. We’re both clean, but you deserve to know the situation you’re getting into,” she said plainly.

“I very much want to feel every delicious inch of your pussy,” he said in a husky voice.

An uncontrollable quiver rolled over her body.

Gray looked down at his watch, and she knew their dinner was over. So many things bubbled up. Desire. Excitement. Curiosity. Fear. Her hands shook as she bunched them together in her lap.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly.

She nodded and stood when he got out of his seat. He touched his hand to her back and ushered her out of the restaurant.

The warm, salty breeze hit them as soon as they stepped out. In the distance, intermixed with the sounds of passing traffic, the soft music of the ocean filled the night.

“Let’s get back,” Gray said close to her ear.

She nodded, and they climbed into the truck.

W
hen they returned to the beach house, Gray laid his keys on the table and watched as Faith walked to the French doors and looked out. She was nervous. Her body language screamed uncertainty.

He walked quietly to the bathroom, leaving her for a moment. He knelt by the huge sunken tub and flipped the lever for the stopper. Then he turned the bathwater on and ran his fingers under the tap to test the temperature. When he was satisfied with the heat, he rose and walked back into the living room.

She was where he’d left her. He walked up behind her and slid his hands over her shoulders. Brushing her hair to the side, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to her neck. She shivered beneath him, and a soft sigh escaped her lips.

He lifted his gaze and stared out at the rising moon. It was nearly full and reflected off the distant water. It was a perfect night.

“Come to the bathroom,” he murmured against her ear. “I’m drawing you a bath.”

She turned in his arms, and his hands slid to her waist. “That sounds heavenly,” she said.

He hooked his fingers in the front waistband of her jeans and pulled her close to him. He fumbled with the button then undid it. Next he eased the zipper down and started shoving the denim over her hips. When the pants finally tumbled down her legs, he curled his fingers around her hips and eased his palms upward, caressing the soft line of her curvy figure.

Her shirt rose with his arms, inching its way up her body. “Raise your arms,” he said.

When she complied, he gently pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. She stepped out of her jeans, tugging the cuffs with one foot and then the other.

He looked down at the lacy, feminine underwear. Pale lilac bra and matching panties. Sheer. Beautiful like her. He placed his hands on her shoulders then slowly pulled at the straps, sliding them over the curve of her shoulder until they fell down her arms.

He reached around and unhooked the clasp and let the bra fall away. The full globes of her breasts shone pale in the distant moonlight. He couldn’t resist touching her nipples. He rolled them between his fingers, plucking lightly at the stiff points.

He let his hands fall down her waist until they met the waistband of her panties. Tucking his fingers inside until they brushed the tiny curls between her legs, he pulled until the lace slid down her hips.

When the tiny scrap of material fell to the floor, she stood naked before him, her body illuminated in the luminescent glow of the moon.

She looked like a goddess. All his.

“Mine,” he growled.

Tiny little chill bumps danced over her skin, raising the hairs on her arms. He smoothed his hands down her arms to soothe the prickle.

Knowing the bath would probably be full by now, he bent and scooped her up into his arms, eliciting a surprised gasp from her. He silenced her with a kiss and started down the hallway to the bathroom.

The bath was full, so he slowly lowered her into the steaming water then reached over to turn the faucet off.

Faith laid her head against the side of the tub and let out a sound of satisfaction as the hot water lapped over her body. Beside the Jacuzzi, Gray knelt and reached for a bottle of shampoo.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair,” he directed.

She repositioned herself in the square tub so that her back was to Gray. He pushed her up so that there was adequate space between her body and the side and then he dipped water into a small ice bucket.

He poured the water over her hair until it was wet, and then he leaned her back once more. She heard the squirting noise of the shampoo bottle, and then his hands delved into her hair. He rubbed and massaged, working up a lather.

He was gentle, and his fingers worked over every inch of her scalp until her eyes rolled back in her head at the exquisite sensations. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the magic of his touch.

For several long minutes, he rubbed and stroked her head until she was sure she would fall into a pleasure-induced coma. Finally he pushed her forward and began rinsing the soap from her hair.

When that was finished, he nudged her shoulder and murmured for her to turn back to her original position. She flushed a little as the globes of her breasts peeked above the surface of the water. His eyes tracked down her body, and she found herself hoping that his hands traveled the same path.

He reached for the bottle of body soap, and instead of using one of the washcloths stacked on the side of the tub, he squirted the liquid into his hand. Then he reached with his other hand to let the water out.

He waited as the water tracked downward, exposing more of her body. When her chest was bare, he smoothed the soap over her breasts, rubbing lightly as lather built.

He cupped first one, and then the other, rubbing a thumb over each puckered nipple in turn. As the water fell lower still, he massaged the skin of her belly, kneading lightly.

When his hand returned to her breasts, she moaned and arched her back. His finger traced circles around the taut nubs then flicked lightly at the points. Each twinge sent a bolt of awareness straight to her pussy.

She squirmed in the water. Her legs parted, and the warm water lapped between her folds, whispering over her clit. Soon the blond curls at the V of her legs appeared.

He refilled his hand with the soap and slowly, gently cupped the soft mound between her legs. His finger found the sensitive bundle of nerves and strummed it with light precision.

She spread her legs wider. “Please,” she whispered. “Oh, please.”

His finger delved lower until it circled her tender opening. The blunt tip breached her entrance, pushing inward the teeniest bit.

She panted lightly as her body tightened, and an unbearable ache began deep inside her pelvis.

“Tonight is for you,” he whispered. “All for you.”

At those words, his thumb found her clit as his fingers sank deeper into her pussy. Her hips lifted, and she convulsed. She bit her lips as the words “Don’t stop” came screaming to the surface.

Thankfully he didn’t.

His middle finger caressed the wall of her vagina as his thumb massaged her throbbing little button. Then he pushed inward, finding her G-spot. Her world exploded in a kaleidoscope of color and sensation.

Her orgasm burst upon her with the speed of a freight train. Her palms braced on the slick bottom of the tub, and she would have slipped if he hadn’t cupped the back of her neck with his other hand.

It was several long seconds before she became aware of her surroundings again. She lay against the tub, gasping for breath as the world gradually returned to rights.

She slowly turned her gaze to see him staring at her with glittering eyes. Eyes that screamed primal possession. Eyes that staked their claim with every stab. She shivered weakly, her muscles a puddle of goo.

He lifted her into his arms, and he carried her to the shower, where he rinsed the remaining soap from her body. Then he carefully dried her from head to toe, his touch gentle yet commanding.

He tugged her into the bedroom, where he retrieved a robe from the closet. He helped her into it and then tied it in front. He left her for a moment while he changed out of his damp shirt. When he returned, he collected her hands in his.

“Let’s go out and sit on the deck. I’ll brush your hair for you.”

She walked behind him on shaky legs. The aftermath of her orgasm had her as weak as a kitten. All she really wanted to do was curl up in his arms and let him hold her.

He opened the French doors and put a hand to her back to guide her outside. Warm sea air tugged at her still-damp hair. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, inhaling the tangy breeze.

It was a gorgeous night.

Gray sat down in the lounger then pulled her down in front of him. He settled her between his legs, and for a moment, she leaned against his chest, her head resting underneath his chin.

She savored the intimate contact, loved being nestled against his big body. Her body hummed, sweet desire flowing through her veins. At this moment, everything seemed so right. As if nothing could ruin such a perfect moment.

The moon shone bright in the sky and cast a brilliant glow over the calm waters of the gulf. Like a sheet of glass, the water wasn’t disturbed by so much as a ripple. Closer in, small waves lapped at the shore and cast a cascade of foam over wet sand.

Gray’s hand tangled in her hair, separating the locks with his fingers and tugging downward. He reached around her for the brush in her lap and let his hand linger close to the knotted belt of her robe, as if he contemplated untying it. Slowly, teasingly, he withdrew his hand.

She moaned softly as he began brushing the now-drying tresses. As he continued his downward strokes, he wrapped the ends around his hand and let them slide over his fingers. Each tug elicited another purr of pleasure from her.

“You have such beautiful hair,” he said. “It suits you perfectly. Vibrant. Free-flowing. Soft.”

She turned her head so she looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m tempted every so often to cut it all off.”

His hands stilled. “You wouldn’t.”

She shrugged. “It can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

“I can’t wait to see it spread out over the bed while I’m sliding my cock between your thighs,” he said huskily.

Her clit throbbed, and her nipples hardened, sending little tingles of pleasure buffeting through her body.

“I’ve imagined you on top of me, my dick buried so deep inside you. You leaning over me, your hair like a curtain over my chest. Then I wrap both hands in the strands and hold on while you ride me.”

She sucked in her breath and closed her eyes as she imagined the scene he portrayed. He continued his gentle strokes with the brush, each one lulling her deeper into semiconsciousness.

“But my favorite?” he whispered close to her ear. “Is you on your hands and knees, my hands wrapped all up in your hair, holding your head back as I fuck you from behind.”

Was it possible to orgasm simply from erotic talk and having your hair brushed? She didn’t know, but she wanted to find out.

He grew quiet, and once again, the only sound that could be heard was the distant sound of the ocean. She relaxed against him as he alternated threading his fingers through her hair and sliding the bristles of the brush through the long strands.

She leaned farther back, turning her chin up and closing her eyes. Whispered sounds of pleasure escaped with each breath. She couldn’t ever remember being so content. Couldn’t ever remember having a man so focused on her. It was exciting, satisfying and a little terrifying all wrapped up in one.

“Why don’t you ever talk about your mom?” he asked.

She stiffened and cursed the fact that she had thought nothing could ruin this moment.

“I don’t like to talk about her.”

The brush moved down her hair, the bristles scratching lightly at her back. He was silent for a moment as he continued his careful attention.

Her shoulders fell. She supposed it wasn’t fair. She’d asked him personal questions. If they were going to make a go of any sort of a relationship, she had to be honest. Even if the thought of him knowing about her childhood and her mother gave her hives.

“That wasn’t fair of me,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry. I just hate to talk about her.”

“I understand,” he said.

“It’s such a long story.”

“We have all night,” he said simply.

The quiet acceptance in his voice bolstered her spirits. He wasn’t pressing for more than she wanted to give. Which only made her want to give nonetheless.

He dropped the brush on the deck but continued to play with her hair. Soon he worked his fingers deeper until they massaged her scalp.

“Mmmm. You keep doing that, and I’ll tell you whatever you want,” she said.

He chuckled but continued kneading. He worked his way down to the nape of her neck and then out over her shoulders. She sighed in sheer bliss.

“Pop isn’t my real father. Wait, that’s not true. He’s very much my real father—the only father I’ve ever known. But he isn’t my biological father.”

If she thought he’d be surprised, he didn’t show it. He continued his soothing massage, and she relaxed her tense muscles. He didn’t say anything, didn’t react, just waited for her to continue.

“My mother…I’m not even sure how to describe her. She’s lived her entire life with her head in the sand. Bad decisions are second nature to her. She’s impulsive and reckless, and she’s simply unwilling to accept the consequences of her actions.”

“Sounds like a lot of people I know,” he said dryly.

She nodded. “From an early age, I was the emotional support in our ‘family.’ At the time, I didn’t understand that our relationship was so much different than other mother-daughter relationships. I was just trying to be the best daughter I could.

“When we didn’t have food in the house, I did odd jobs, babysat for neighbors so we’d have the money to eat. I can remember holding her head as she puked her guts up after a night of drinking. Of course, I didn’t realize that’s where all our money was going.”

Gray made a sound of disgust. “Christ, Faith. How old were you?”

She shrugged. “Nine, ten, I don’t really remember.”

His hands tightened on her shoulders and his rubs became more soothing as if he understood the difficulty she had in talking about her mother.

“When I was fourteen, she met and married Pop. I was so excited. I loved Pop on sight. He was so kind to me. Accepted me as his daughter. I had a major crush on Connor. What fourteen-year-old girl wouldn’t? He was twenty-four, fresh out of the army, and he was nice to me. Didn’t treat me like a nuisance. For the first time, I really thought that I’d landed in the kind of family I wanted.”

“What happened?”

Faith sighed. The memory of that night still held such power over her. It had been the worst feeling in her young life. Worse than the disappointments her mother had thrown her way.

“She got a bug up her ass one night. Got me up in the middle of the night and left. I was devastated. I didn’t want to leave. I even asked her if I could stay. She made me go with her, and I know it was because she had no one else to take care of her. It pissed me off. Pop was so good to her. He would have taken care of her if only she’d have let him. But like everything else, she fucked things up. Wouldn’t allow anything good to happen to us.”