Giving In: Surrender Trilogy (6 page)

He knew she expected to brush him off once they reached the door. Issue a stiff, polite good-night and perhaps even a stilted thank-you for his help. But then she’d retreat inside and back to her private hell, shutting the door, barring him from her domain.

Fuck that.

He plucked the keys from her hand and unlocked the door, ushering her forward, making sure he was with her the entire way, and only then did he close the door and lock it.

“Jensen,” she protested. “I’m fine. Thank you, but I’m okay now. It was stupid. And embarrassing. But I’d rather be alone right now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’ll see me right now,” he said grimly.

Even as he spoke, he directed her toward what he guessed was her bedroom. Her house, as he’d suspected, was the picture of tranquility. Her haven. Not a single thing out of place. A study in calm and peace.

She resisted when they reached her bedroom, turning, a fierce, stubborn glint to her eyes. “You can go now, Jensen.” No trace of her earlier panic attack was evident in her eyes. But it was the tight lines around her lips. The strain in her forehead and the paleness of her face that told him otherwise.

She wasn’t okay and he wasn’t leaving.

“Get dressed for bed while I fix us both a drink. Is your bar stocked? I think something strong is called for.”

She paled and then shook her head. “Only wine, and I rarely indulge. Usually only when I go out with Chessy and Joss or if I’m over at one of their houses.”

“Then wine it is. You need something to relax you. You have five minutes to change if you don’t want me walking in while you’re getting undressed.”

After that directive, he strode out of her bedroom, closing the door so she would be assured complete privacy. He purposely took longer than five minutes because he knew she likely spent the first several minutes arguing with herself and forming all sorts of ways to tell him to go fuck himself.

He shrugged. He’d had far worse said to him. And he had already discovered her bark was far more ferocious than her bite. Underneath the tough exterior lay a soft heart and an even softer soul.

He poured them both a glass, though he had no desire for the drink. His thoughts were too consumed with Kylie and the episode he’d witnessed at the restaurant. Whether she wanted to or not, she was going to explain to him exactly what the hell had spurred that panic attack. He had a good idea, but he wanted to hear it from her. Wanted her to trust him enough to open up and perhaps talk about things she never spoke of to anyone else.

It was an unrealistic expectation, but it didn’t prevent him from wanting it.

When he shouldered his way back into her bedroom, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, pale, shaken, dressed in very modest pajamas, long sleeved, covering every inch of her delectable flesh.

It was in the unguarded moment when she hadn’t yet registered his presence that he saw beyond the façade she presented to the rest of the world.

She looked infinitely fragile and so very vulnerable. She looked . . .
lonely
. Sadness clung to her like a fog, surrounding her with such heaviness it made his heart ache. Then she glanced up, eyes startled as she realized she was no longer alone.

And just as quickly, the barriers were back up, her face becoming impenetrable. But he’d already seen beyond it. Knew what was underneath.

“This really isn’t necessary,” she protested when he shoved the glass of wine into her hands. “I’m okay, Jensen. It was very kind of you to bring me home, but I feel foolish. It was stupid of me and now I’m just embarrassed.”

Jensen ignored her protests and settled onto the bed next to her, their thighs nearly touching.

“Who did he remind you of, Kylie?” he asked gently.

She went pale and immediately averted her gaze. She took a long swallow of the wine, gulping at it almost as if she needed the liquid courage it would bring to even dwell on the earlier episode.

“My father,” she blurted.

She immediately squeezed her eyes shut, regret etched in her forehead. She shook her head in bewilderment, obviously asking herself why she’d confided that much.

“Is he still alive?” Jensen asked.

She nodded.

“And does he live here? Do you ever see him?” he prodded.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “And no, I don’t see him. Ever. I have no desire to. I wish he were dead. I wish it had been him and not Carson. It’s not
fair
.”

Tears thickened her voice and slid down her cheeks. She seemed embarrassed by them but he didn’t move, didn’t react. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to the emotion she tried to hide from him. He wanted her to continue. To speak of the demons that haunted her. He wanted to understand every aspect of her pain and fear so he would know how to help her.

“Why did Carson have to die?” she said on a sob. “He was so good. Never did anything to hurt anyone. He loved and adored Joss. He loved and protected me. He’s the only one who ever protected me. And yet he died and our father lives. It’s unfair,” she said again, anger seeping through the grief.

Jensen gently took her hand, curling it into his much larger one, stroking her knuckles with his thumb.

“Life isn’t fair, baby. And you’re right. It isn’t fair that the son of a bitch that fathered you is alive and well and Carson was killed. But little in life makes sense. We have to deal with the cards we’re dealt.”

“I hate that I can’t move on,” she whispered. “I hate it, Jensen. I hate being so weak. Do you understand that? I
hate
it!”

He squeezed her hand, offering his reassurance, when what he wanted most was to take her in his arms and simply hold her. Nothing else. Just hold her.

“You aren’t weak,” he denied. “I don’t pretend to know everything you’ve gone through, but I know enough to recognize you are a survivor. You didn’t allow yourself to be beaten down. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

She leaned into him, and whether it was conscious or not, he wasn’t complaining either way. Taking a chance, he let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her more firmly into his embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder and he could feel the exhaustion tugging at her. The need to simply rest without fear or memories of the past intruding.

How long had it been since she’d truly slept? One night where her mind was blank and she gave in to complete and utter rest.

“At times I don’t think I survived at all,” she said in a voice so low he had to strain to hear. “And I wonder if he didn’t win after all. I used to think I’d beaten him. That what he did didn’t damage me, but that’s not true, is it? He
did
win because even now, when he isn’t any part of my life, my present, he’s still there, just as if he was standing in front of me. And no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of him or the memory of all he did.”

He kissed the top of her silky hair, unable to prevent himself that small indulgence. She stiffened and he cursed under his breath. Because whatever slip she’d made, a small moment where she’d been able to surrender to the need to turn to someone, it was now gone and she was very aware of the fact that he was in her bedroom and she was in his arms, his lips pressed to her head.

She pulled away, unable to meet his gaze, but he could see the shame and embarrassment in her eyes and it gutted him. Because he didn’t want her to feel that way with him. He wanted her to feel comfortable enough with him to let those barriers down and let him into the heart of her.

“You should go now,” she said in a quiet, tight tone. “I’ve taken up far too much of your time already.”

“I’m not leaving you tonight,” he said bluntly.

Her head whirled around and shocked, wide eyes met his gaze. Surprise was evident, yes, but what slayed him was the abject terror in those huge eyes. He could see another panic attack was imminent and that was the last thing he wanted.

“You c-can’t s-stay here,” she stammered out.

“Yes, I can,” he said calmly. “And I am.”

She shook her head, panic spreading over her face.

He put his hand on her shoulder, feeling the violent trembling she tried so hard to control.

“I’m not leaving you, baby,” he said in a tender voice. “I get that you’re freaked out and afraid. But I swear to you that you have nothing to fear from me.”

Her mouth dropped open and she swallowed as if she couldn’t even come up with a response.

“I don’t need you to stay,” she protested.

He put a finger to her lips and simply shook his head. “You don’t
want
me to stay,” he amended. “But yes, you do
need
me to stay. And that’s the difference.”

“You don’t understand,” she said desperately.

“Shh, baby. I understand far more than you realize. Don’t you think I know how frightened you are of me? How much that guts me and how much I wish it were different? The very last thing I want is for you to fear me, and no matter what it takes, Kylie, I’m going to prove to you that you are absolutely safe with me. Safer than you’ll ever be with anyone else. I will never hurt you. Never.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I don’t
want
to be afraid of you.”

His entire heart softened at her admission. No, she didn’t want to fear him, but fear was irrational. It defied explanation, and the simple fact was that it wasn’t personal to him. She’d fear any man being this close to her. In her bedroom, sleeping in her bed. But before the night was over with, she’d know that there was nothing he wouldn’t do in order to ensure she no longer feared him.

“I’m sleeping here tonight. With you. In this bed,” he said in a calm voice as if they were discussing the mundane.

Terror blistered through her eyes and her breath quickened. Her pulse stuttered and panic slammed into her. He could see her struggling for breath, her nostrils flaring with the effort.

“Listen to me, Kylie. I understand you far better than you think. You value control in all things, because you once had that control taken from you. I’m going to give that back to you. Tonight. I’m going to sleep here, with you, so that you know you’re safe. I want you to rest. One night without dreams, or at the very least someone to comfort you when the dreams torture you. And so you are in absolute control and so you know you have nothing to fear, you’re going to tie my hands to your bedpost so that I am, in effect, helpless.”

KYLIE
stared at Jensen in complete astonishment. “That’s crazy!”

It was more than crazy. It was absolute insanity. Tie him to the bed? Despite the fact that this was a man she’d never imagine putting himself in a vulnerable position with anyone, particularly a woman, the idea of tying
anyone
to her bed was just nuts!

“Would it make you feel safer?” he asked mildly, as if he hadn’t just proposed such lunacy. “Think about it, Kylie. You would have complete control. Nothing to fear. I would, in effect, be utterly helpless. But I will not leave you alone tonight. So your only two options are to trust me enough to share your bed with me or tie my hands to the headboard.”

Her head spun. Her thoughts were a jumble of chaotic mess. The sheer selflessness that such an act involved was overwhelming.

Without waiting for her response, he abruptly got up and left her room. Maybe he had decided that he’d experienced a brief break from reality and was now getting the hell out. She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed.

No matter how much she protested the idea or how much her instincts screamed that this man was dangerous to her, the thought of being alone tonight, like so many other nights, was more than she could bear.

She’d just about decided he
had
run for cover when he returned, striding through her door as though he belonged there, a pair of handcuffs in his hand.

Handcuffs.

Her eyes bugged out as she stared openmouthed at him.

“Who the hell carries handcuffs around with them unless they’re a cop?” she demanded.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Never know when one might need them.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you into kink? That dominant stuff Dash and Tate are involved in? Are you like them?”

His gaze was level and he seemed unruffled by her suspicion.

“I can assure you I am not like them. I’m me. Jensen. I don’t need or have any desire to model my desires after another or to emulate others. What Dash and Tate do is their own business, between them and their partners. Just as what I do, what I need and desire, is my own.”

“You want me to use those. On you,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

He sat down beside her, his fingertips grazing the skin from her shoulder to her elbow. Even through the material of her pajamas the heat from his touch scalded her.

“What I want is for you to feel safe,” he corrected. “And if this enables you to feel safe. With me. Then yes, that is exactly what I want you to do. Handcuff me to your bed.”

Did it make her a raving lunatic to give consideration to his bizarre proposition? But she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to be alone. She’d been alone for so very long. Just one night she wanted what he promised. Peace. A respite from fear and the agony of her dreams. A source of comfort, one he was selflessly offering her. Would she be a fool to refuse him?

“Perhaps just one hand,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t want you to be too uncomfortable.”

His eyes gleamed, the only outward sign of his triumph. He remained still and silent, almost as if he were waiting for her to change her mind and back out. She wasn’t a coward and she was trying damn hard to stop being so weak. It was one night. And he’d be handcuffed to her bed. Even so, she didn’t believe for a single minute that he’d ever harm her. Her heart knew that, but her mind was firmly entrenched in self-preservation. Her mind was screaming at her to make him leave. Her heart and mind were at constant odds when it came to this man. An unusual occurrence since they normally were in perfect alignment. Trust no one. It had long been her mantra. Only now, her heart was sending different signals than her brain and the battle was exhausting.