Surrender (23 page)

I don’t think there’s anything left for Mom or me to say to each other. She’s already upset about Marisela. “I think we should go,” I say to Garrick. Then I turn to my mother. “I’m glad Marisela came to me, Mom—she just needs a break from everything. She’s stressed.”

Mom’s icy blue stare could freeze the Gulf of Mexico. “Your opinion means nothing to me right now.”

Yep. Another successful Gonzalez family moment.
I watch her spin on her high heels and walk away without a goodbye. I’m devastated, but I won’t let Garrick see it. I don’t know why, after all these years, my mother’s disapproval still goes straight to my heart.

I look at Robyn out of the corner of my eye while I’m driving. She can’t hide her feelings behind that fake smile. I see through it. I can’t begin to comprehend the shame she feels from her mother’s disgraceful reproach. I’m beginning to think that no matter what Robyn says or does, her poor excuse for a mother will
never
accept her. For days I’ve been focused on how I can help. After today, at least I understand the nature of her mistrust. It’s heart-wrenching. My parents were the complete opposite: no matter how hard I rebelled against their authority, they loved me. I pull into my driveway; Robyn hops out.

She sits in a wicker rocker on my front porch.

“Wanna talk about it?” I ask, standing beside her.

She gazes across the street. “What’s it like growing up in a family where you matter?”

I deliberate. Should I give an honest answer or downplay it so she doesn’t feel worse than she already does? The sting of her lie is still fresh on my mind. I wish she trusted me enough to tell me the truth about what happened at the club while I was gone. “I never felt lonely—always knew I had a place to go if I was in trouble.”

“Were you a
bad
boy?” She looks up.

I shrug. “I wasn’t perfect,” I confess. “Jocks drink and fuck a lot.”

She laughs. “In that order?”

“Sometimes.” I won’t deny my past. “What did you do for fun?” I think about her chastity club.

“Smoked cigarettes, sucked face a lot, snuck out of my house every chance I got.”

“That doesn’t sound
too
bad,” I say. “What changed? Why’d your parents turn against you?”

She sucks in a deep breath. “I don’t know—really. A month before I got kicked out, my father caught me climbing in my bedroom window after two in the morning.”

“What’d he do?”

“Backhanded me so hard I fell over.”

I hate it. My parents never hit Gretchen. My father spanked me when I was a kid, but nothing more than a few swats on the ass to remind me who was in charge. “I’m truly sorry.”

“That wasn’t the first time,” she comments. “Can we change the subject, though? I can’t believe you had to jump right back into the role of knight in shining armor the minute you got home. I’m sorry. I’m afraid my sister is headed for trouble if my parents don’t lighten up. She’s slated for Baylor University next year—my
mother’s alma mater.
”

“Great school,” I say. “The kind of place your parents approve of.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “Not the kind of place Marisela wants to attend. She prefers the University of Delaware—or Penn State.”

“Party central.”

“I’m sure you noticed how tightly wound she is.”

I laugh. Marisela might as well be Robyn’s twin, with a twist. She’s more outspoken—and a lot more trouble. “I don’t blame your parents for wanting to keep her close.”

Robyn nods. “I agree, but my mom won’t finance her education unless Marisela agrees to the pre-med program. My sister wants to major in music.”

“Can’t she get student loans or a scholarship?”

“Maybe,” Robyn answers. “I told her not to make the same mistakes I have.”

“What’s that?” I ask, truly interested.

Robyn looks away.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Let’s just say I’m dependent on student loans.”

As always, when she’s done discussing something, she shuts down. As I eye the street, Gretchen pulls into the driveway.

Chapter Twenty-two

Gretchen gives us a pointed look as she approaches. I’m sure my sister and Robyn haven’t seen each other since the night I left.

“Gretchen,” I say with a smile.

“You’re back.” She looks at Robyn and her face wilts. “How are you, Robyn?”

“Good,” Robyn fibs. “Busy with work and school.”

It’s awkward at best. I’m unwilling to let this tension grow into something unmanageable. “We need to talk,” I say.

“Now?” Gretchen asks.

I nod, then gaze at Robyn; she doesn’t say a word. I walk to the front door, pull my keys out of my front pocket, and unlock it. I hold the screen door open. “After you, ladies.”

We settle in the living room. Robyn in an armchair, Gretchen on the couch. I eye both of the most important people in my life. “I’ve decided we’re going to get any misunderstandings out of the way.”

“Robyn already knows how I feel,” Gretchen says. “I’m sorry if it hurts her feelings, but I can’t lie.” She looks at Robyn. “With my parents gone, someone needs to look after Garrick, don’t you agree?”

“He’s a grown man,” Robyn shoots back. “I didn’t pursue him; your brother sought me out.”

Gretchen sighs, looks at me, then eyeballs me. “I know,” she admits. “I disapprove of what you do for a living—I can’t accept it. It’s wrong.”

At least they are speaking in quiet voices; civility has its merits. “Gretchen—we work
together.
”

“Yeah,” she says. “But at least you keep your clothes on.” I’ve never known my sister to act so smug. Someone has filled her head with bullshit.

“This isn’t you talking.” I rub my chin. “Did Lorraine or Mary say something to you?” My sister’s best friends are wealthy, judgmental snobs. I always treasured Gretchen because she wasn’t cliquish.

“Of course I talked to them.” Her hard, dark eyes move over me. “That’s what friends are supposed to do.”

“And I bet I can guess what they told you.” I don’t like where this conversation is going. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, Gretchen.”

She jumps up. “I’m not jealous . . .”

“Then what do you call it?”

“Uncomfortable.”

“Gretchen . . .” Robyn says gently. “Have you ever seen the inside of a topless bar? Known anyone who works in one?”

“No.”

Robyn nods. “Would you believe me if I told you half the girls do it to provide food and shelter for their children instead of relying on welfare? Or instead of living with some abusive boyfriend?”

Gretchen looks at the floor. “I commend them for trying.”

“You should,” Robyn says. “And respect me for going to school. I don’t plan on making a career out of dancing. But I’ll do what I must to finish college.”

“What about the drugs and prostitution?” she asks.

“I can’t deny it. Unfortunately, that’s the darker side of the industry. I don’t participate in extracurricular activities like that, nor condone it. Believe me. I always go home after work.”

“Or
here,
” Gretchen cracks.

I hear the rumble of Robyn’s irritation. “Come on, Gretch,” I urge. “I’m not asking you two to be friends right now. Just give Robyn a chance and some courtesy—for me—for her—for what’s left of this family.” Robyn stares at me and I swallow, hard. My deepest feelings are coming out. I
want
Robyn. In my bed—in my life. Every day. I need her to trust me. Gretchen isn’t helping, at all.

Finally, Gretchen faces Robyn. “I’ll try. Don’t expect a miracle overnight.”

Robyn waves her hands. “I can live with that.”

“Good,” I say, praying silently that this uncertain truce holds.

Gretchen grabs some clothes and leaves again. I’m glued to the armchair, afraid of what comes next. Garrick is circling like a hyena. He walks to a beautiful cherrywood secretarial desk I’m sure belonged to his mother, opens a drawer, takes something out, then closes it. We’re
finally
alone. But the silence is killing me. The contest with his sister nearly made me run away again. I gaze up as Garrick approaches. He kneels between my knees.

“I know you have a lot to deal with, Robyn.” He strokes my cheek. “But we can’t let anything get in the way of us. Understand?”

I nod mutely.
Tell him how you feel . . .

“Take this, baby.” He holds up a key. “My feelings haven’t changed. I love you. I want you here with me.”

Love’s squeezes my heart. A shiver sweeps down my spine. Garrick says all the right things, and he means them, I’m convinced. Our gazes lock. The key is dangling in front of my face.
Take the key, idiot—it doesn’t mean you’re moving in.
I take it. “I can’t make any promises, Garrick. I’m still determined to keep my apartment. Understand?”

He nods as though he comprehends what I’m saying, but I have my doubts. “You won’t regret it,” he says. Then he covers me with his big, strong body.

He’s all heat and passion—the pain of being separated twice in such a short time is evident on his face—and all those raw emotions and physical needs explode. He cradles me in his arms, then falls back on the plush carpet. I’m on top, sliding my panties off. He’s wearing shorts, which I hastily take off. We’re hopeless—helpless. I love him. I just can’t express it with words. Our tongues meet, and he tastes like coffee and mint—so fucking good. I writhe and whimper as his fingers gently sweep across my vagina. He’s teasing, testing my resistance. I’ve been wet since the moment I saw him in my apartment. Even when he’s a raving lunatic I get turned on.

“Robyn,” he whispers against my lips. “I want you so bad.”

I gasp at the intensity of sensations spiraling through me.

“I need you naked,
now,
” he growls.

We’re not quite beyond the part of this sexual relationship where Garrick needs to establish his dominance yet, and he flips me onto my back, gently, but with every intention of showing me what he wants. My cotton button-up blouse is off in two seconds. My lace bra is no match for his persistent fingers or mouth. He tongues my nipples hard, tickling and sucking through the delicate material. I’m completely engulfed in the scorching heat of his body.

His shaft is perfectly centered between my legs. I’m panting, pawing at his shirt, wanting it off—
now.
Every inch of me is alive to his touch.

Suddenly his tongue is traveling down my body. Between my breasts, over my belly button . . . He pauses and sucks my diamond. A strange sensation hits me between the legs as he does that; then he dips lower, sucking on the soft skin of my inner thighs. Then he sits up, placing his hands on either side of my hips.

His face is strained as he looks down at me. I’m completely vulnerable—my snatch aches to be stretched and filled by him. Is that equivalent to blue balls? He cups my hand and guides it between his legs. I fist his fully erect shaft. It’s so smooth, with a perfectly shaped head I love to touch. I groan as he runs our hands up and down his length. I feel his rapid pulse at the base of his cock. My hips jerk. He squeezes my hand tighter and I stroke him more aggressively. I close my eyes.

“Open your eyes, Robyn,” he demands.

I do.

“I want you to
see
what you do to me.”

Garrick is beyond well endowed. “I don’t want to
see
it—I want to
feel
it.” I’m close to begging. I squirm, fisting him with both hands. “Please . . . I want you inside me.” He leans down and takes my mouth, swallowing my last words, destroying any lingering thoughts. “Garrick . . .”

My heart is thundering as my legs open wide. He enters me, fingering my clit as he thrusts in and out. I cling to his neck—consumed by everything Garrick.

I’ll never think of the living room in the same way again. I want to do Robyn in the kitchen, laundry room, dining room, garage, and every spare bedroom in the house. Hell, I want to fuck her in the front yard, too. I’m guardedly happy that she accepted a key to the house. Not so sure she intends to use it without prompting.

We’re in the kitchen—dressed. Robyn sits at the table while I scramble some eggs. I don’t like how thin she is. My mother suffered from chronic anemia and I know women who don’t eat red meat often have it, too. I spoon a small serving onto a plate and hand it to her. She devours her food before I get done cooking my own.

“Hungry?” I ask.

“Starving.”

I smile. “Ready to finish our conversation?” I hope she’s prepared to answer
all
my questions.

“I’m at your mercy,” she teases.

Not quite, little bird.
I smile inwardly.
After we’ve established more trust, I’ll show you little mercy.
So many things to teach her—if I can get past the blasted adolescent excitement I feel every time she gets naked. “I need to know what happened at the club the other night.”

She instantly stares at the floor. More negative body language. “I told you,” she says. “Some guy misbehaved during a table dance. Craig made him leave.”

“And because of that he ends up on your couch?”

She’s blushing bright red. “I didn’t ask him to spend the night, if that’s what you’re worried about. He apologized for being an ass.”

I scoff. “I’d call it more than worried.” I try to maintain control.
Relax.
“I can’t figure out why he came over or why you let him stay.”

She clears her throat. Nervous. Fidgety. “I guess I felt relieved to have a man around with Marisela showing up and all.”

If it were anyone else but Craig, I’d accept her logic. But Craig Hanson isn’t just anyone. He’s competition. I hate him. I cup the back of my neck with my hand. “We need to establish a few ground rules, baby, ones we can both live with. Ones that will help us succeed as a couple.”

She smiles faintly. “I’m not a child.” At least she doesn’t object to my idea.

But I wince anyway. I’m not trying to bully her. She’s young—flighty—and beautiful. Too beautiful for her own good. My parents were devout southern Baptists. Before they married, they made a list of expectations and rules they swore to honor as long as they lived together. I keep the signed list in my dresser. Call me old-fashioned; I want what my parents had. Robyn might be
the one.
“I know you’re not,” I assure her. “Rules are beneficial.”