Surrender (12 page)

Garrick pushes me down. I exhale the second his beard stubble scrapes across my breasts. It’s like sandpaper and silk. He slides down my body, pinning my legs. Anticipation is killing me. He jams his tongue inside me—I’m sliding all over the sheets trying to escape. His grip tightens on my thighs. He’s making up for lost time. His tongue does somersaults inside me. I’m swallowing my screams because I’m afraid his sister is home.
But. I. Can’t. Do. It. Very. Much. Longer.

A long moan escapes my lips as I peak.

He releases my legs and hovers over me. “You’re killing me, little bird . . . fucking killing me.” His body angles downward and he pierces me in one thrust.

I let loose the scream that’s been building inside me since he swept me off my feet. A grin of satisfaction covers his face as he captures my mouth, and our tongues wrestle. I wrap my arms around his neck, silently begging him to go faster. I can’t move a muscle. I’m witless. As if he read my mind, he hammers into me. Over and over again. The headboard slams against the wall. Every time he goes deep, I hear it.

I break away from our kiss to catch a breath. Our bodies are slick with sweat and sex. We sound like two suction cups. “Garrick . . .”

The pressure builds in my belly. Pure, unadulterated pleasure. I feel his cock pulse.

“Robyn, come with me baby . . .” He slows his momentum, stabbing me with short, urgent strokes.

I’m panting.

Holy Mother of Christ . . .
Our bodies merge—coming together is overwhelming. Humbling, really. I’m gripping the sheets, bracing myself for the unknown. Slowly, very slowly, the sensations soften. I hear Garrick exhale and he collapses on top of me.

All I know is he’s perfect. Everything. I never thought I’d find paradise on earth. I’m in trouble.

The astonishment on Robyn’s face when we peaked together was almost comical. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. Or the power her sexuality holds over me. The way to a man’s heart isn’t through his stomach. A few more days of this and I’ll lose my mind, maybe my soul. I carefully roll off her and scoop her close. She’s nervous, unsure if I want her here.

I’m glad I opened the door when I did. “What made you come here?” I’m massaging her belly, half expecting to hear her purr.

“I went to the pier . . .”

I prop my head on my hand. “What? Alone? After everything that happened?” I growl. I kiss her cheek to reassure her I’m not mad. “Please don’t run around in the middle of the night by yourself anymore.”

“Why? I’ve been doing it for three years.”

How can I explain this without sounding like a sexist pig? “It’s not safe.”

“
You
do it.”

“Yeah.” I shake my head. “I’m six three with muscles. How much do you weigh?”

“One eighteen.” She flips over on her stomach and eases her head into the pillows.

She’s silent a moment and I know what she’s thinking. “I’m not trying to take away your freedom.” I have to hide my smile. “Only asking you to consider men like Craig and that guy on the beach.”

“Funny you should mention him.”

I shoot up. “Was he at the pier?”

“No. I spoke with Franco, the manager. He has a broken arm, compliments of that asshole.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

I lean over and smooth hair away from her face. “Tell me the rest.”

“Are you clairvoyant or something?”

“I have good instincts, Robyn. Finish the story.”

“Franco warned me.”

I’m growing impatient. “About what?”

“He claims Carlos doesn’t let things go and I should watch my back.”

“Did you see anything you shouldn’t have?”

“No.” Her voice goes up an octave. “I already told you what happened the night I met you.”

“You can’t be alone—not now. I won’t be able to sleep a wink if I think you’re in danger.”

She harrumphs. “Who do you think you are, my boyfriend?” She sounds like a little girl.

“Yeah, I am.” Time for her to hear the truth. I already warned her I don’t play games. “We’re not BFFs, Robyn. We’re lovers—maybe even more than that. I can’t have you running all over this city at all hours without protection. I can’t.”

She pulls away. “Things are getting complicated.”

“Robyn.” I sit up. “Look where you are. What time is it? One-night stands don’t act this way. We’re in this, whether we want to be or not. Feelings are feelings, and it’s too late for me to turn mine off.”

“You care about me?”

I rub my face, frustrated. “Do you need me to spell it out for you, girl?” If she doesn’t know by now, I’ll have to remedy that.

“Maybe.” She smiles, then frowns. “I feel the same way.”

I can’t resist her little frown. I kiss her—possessively. “I’m on fire, baby.”

“Me too,” she whispers.

Instant erection. I crawl behind her and nudge her to her knees. Her little ass is bobbing in the air. She stares over her shoulder as I position myself—her eyes wide as saucers. “Let me show you how much I care.”

Chapter Ten

Gretchen is cooking breakfast. She gives me a look only a sister can give when I enter the kitchen rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Working out last night?” she asks.

I smile—guilty. “Did I wake you up?”

“I never went to sleep,
Garrick.
” She slaps my arm.

“I’m not going to apologize.”

She waves the spatula she’s holding threateningly. “I know you aren’t. Who is she?”

The amusement in her eyes tells me she’s happy I’ve found someone. “I care about her.”

“Then I want to meet her.”

“She’s sleeping.”

“I would think so.” She turns to the counter. “We need to make arrangements if we’re going to entertain. You’re my big brother . . .” She faces me again, her cheeks red as berries.

I give her a hug. “Sorry.”

“You’d better be.” She hands me a plate with five eggs and sausage links. “Going to the gym?”

I consider it. “Probably not.”

“She
must
be something special.” She makes a clicking noise with her tongue. Gretchen reminds me of our mother. Ash-blond hair, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, and a brilliant smile. “Let’s take her . . .”

“Garrick?” Robyn’s tiny voice sounds from the hallway.

“In here, baby.”

She’s wearing her shorts and one of my T-shirts. She’s beautiful without makeup. “Good morning,” she says sleepily.

“Sis,” I say. “This is Robyn.”

Gretchen assesses her briefly and smiles. “I’m so pleased to meet you.” She gives Robyn a hug. “Do you need shampoo and conditioner? Maybe some girly soap?” Gretchen asks.

“That would be wonderful,” Robyn answers shyly.

“My bathroom is the second door on the left.” Gretchen points upstairs. “Help yourself to whatever you need. There are extra toothbrushes in the bottom drawer. We’re always getting unexpected company.”

I kiss Robyn’s cheek and she scoots out of the room.

Gretchen waits a few seconds before she lays into me. “Garrick! How old is she?”

“Twenty.”

“She’s so young—beautiful. Shy and sweet. Where did you meet her?”

I give her the condensed version.

“My God, the poor thing must have been terrified.” She’s quiet again, digesting everything I said. “Are you really prepared to date a dancer? I’ve heard horror stories.”

“Most of them are probably true,” I admit. “Robyn is different. She’s had a hard life, Gretchen. But she’s a smart girl, goes to school at A&M and doesn’t party. I’ve seen her at work. She’s all business.”

Gretchen sits down at the kitchen table with her plate of food. “Where’s her family?” She takes a bite of toast and chews.

“Odem. They disowned her a long time ago.”

“How does someone disown their daughter?”

I shake my head; the very idea pisses me off. “I don’t know.” I sit down next to her. “But I’m sure as hell gonna try to find out.”

“Don’t be a bully, Garrick.”

“I’m not.” I eat two sausage links. “I need to know
why
they abandoned her. I want to help her.”

Gretchen studies my face. “Are you in love with her? I’ve never heard you talk this way about anyone, not even Jeanette.”

Jeanette Sampson was my high school sweetheart. “Jeanette was a bitch,” I say.

“Garrick.” She swats my leg.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “There’s definitely something there.” It’s the closest I’ve ever come to saying it.
Love
isn’t a word I take lightly. My parents had an exceptional marriage—thirty years. They imparted many things to us—the greatest—living by example.

“I’m here if you need anything.” Gretchen pats my hand.

“Thanks.”

I’m so freaking embarrassed his sister is home. The whole neighborhood probably heard the headboard. And my scream. I stick my head under the hot water. How can I ever look Gretchen in the eye again? She’s so nice. I’m out of my element here. This house. Garrick Dempsey, his sister. What am I going to do? Crazy emotions zip inside my head. Feelings I’ve never considered. My stomach is constantly upset; I can’t eat. I turn the showerhead on massage and let the high pressure beat on my back.

Fifteen minutes later while I’m drying my hair, my cellphone rings. I look at the caller ID and pick up. “Macey?”

“Where are you?” she asks. “I’m standing in your living room.”

“I’m at Garrick’s,” I whisper.

“What?”

“I’m at Garrick’s.”

There’s a short pause. “You spent the night?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“Girlfriend . . .” She chortles. “You got some?”

“Not now; we’ll talk later.” I’m not about to discuss my new-born sex life with my big-mouthed best friend on a cellphone in Garrick’s sister’s bathroom.

“Call me when you get home.” She’s still laughing as she hangs up.

I open my backpack and take out my makeup kit. I grab the tweezers and pluck a few eyebrow hairs. Next, I moisturize and apply a light foundation, mascara, and pink lip gloss. I run a pick through my curls and clip my bangs back. Nearly human again. I’m glad I always carry deodorant and perfume, a must for any woman in this sweltering south Texas climate. I put on the same clothes I had on last night, then wander downstairs again. I’m hungry.

Garrick is sitting at the kitchen table alone, looking over some paperwork. He stands. “Little bird.”

I get dizzy. Garrick catches me. “Sorry.” I hold onto his arm.

He eyeballs me. “Why are you apologizing, Robyn? Sit down.” He pulls a chair out. He cups my forehead. “No fever. Are you sick?”

“No,” I lie. I’m heartsick.

“Did you eat anything last night?”

“An apple.”

He wastes no time setting a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage in front of me. “Eat. Now.”

Pork usually upsets my stomach. I fork it away from the eggs. Even the eggs look unappetizing. I take a taste.
Yuck.
I drop the utensil on the plate and push it away.

He’s leaning against the counter by the double sink, monitoring me. The walls are closing in again. My hands start shaking. Tears burn my eyes. I’m having a panic attack. It hasn’t happened in a long time. My inhaler is in my backpack upstairs. It’s difficult to breathe.

“Robyn . . . Robyn!”

Everything goes black.

I wake up in his arms. His face lights up when I open my eyes. “Thank God,” he says.

“What happened?”

“You blacked out.” He shakes his head, then switches to a deeper, more serious tone. “Please tell me what’s going on, Robyn. Are you sick?”

“I get panic attacks when I feel overwhelmed. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he repeats.

I’m lost in his fathomless eyes. “It’s not fatal, Garrick.”

“I don’t care. I need to know these things, Robyn. You scared the shit out of me. What’s going on inside your head?”

I try to roll out of his grasp, but he holds tight. “You’re not going anywhere.” He’s determined. “What triggered the attack?”

I don’t want to say. He’ll misunderstand. Everything is so perfect—
scarily
perfect. That’s the problem. Whenever things go well, I look over my shoulder. Paranoia is second nature to me. “I like to keep everything compartmentalized. That’s all. When things get disorganized . . .”

“You’re a control freak?”

“Sort of,” I affirm. “Only with my own crap.”

“You’re still avoiding my original question.”

“This is borderline harassment.”

“File formal complaints with HR,” he says sardonically. “I think you like to challenge authority, little bird. Whether it’s management at work or me.”

“So you’re in charge all of a sudden?”

“We’re back to this discussion?” he huffs.

“I don’t recall ever finishing.”

“You want an honest assessment?”

“Sure,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“There’s a natural order to things . . .”

“We’re not living in the nineteenth century,” I point out. “Women vote, have careers, and
hush-hush,
have sex out of wedlock.”

“I’m not opposed to that. But it comes down to one thing.”

“What’s that?” I challenge.

“Who takes the bullet?”

“What?”
We’re from different planets at the moment.

“Men take the bullets, baby, protect women. And rightfully so. No matter what you say and do, don’t believe for a second this isn’t a man’s world.”

I know he’s fundamentally correct—this world is all screwed up because everyone is running around trying to reassign our roles. I believe in equality—peace. But someone has to make the final decision. And as much as I don’t like it . . . “You’re
essentially
correct.” Mega emphasis on
essentially.

That takes him by surprise. “You’re very sensible.” He kisses me. “So since we’ve established a chain of command now, tell me what triggered your panic attack.”

Alphas
. . . I roll my eyes.
“You.”
I immediately look away. If he knew how true that was . . . he’d discover my deep feelings for him. I can’t let him.

“Are you in love with me?”

I can’t believe he just asked me that. Like an idiot, I don’t say anything. Silence is as good as a confession.
Yeah,
I think,
I love everything about you. Your perfect body and heart—a heart I never thought existed—a heart so much like my very own I have to put some distance between us or I’ll never be able to control my emotions again.
But I can’t give in to my feelings. If I do, I risk losing him. Macey tries to psychoanalyze me all the time. She claims I have abandonment issues and that’s why I can’t commit to anyone. Maybe she’s right. I do think he’ll end up leaving me once he finds out everything. Loving Garrick is the easy part—admitting it scares me more than anything.