Surrender: Tales of Submission (6 page)

own issues?"

She was strong. Smart. He liked that about her. He

almost smiled.

"Look, it's not as if I never recovered. I did. That's why I had the phoenix tattooed on my back as soon as I

turned eighteen. I understood even then what it

represented."

"I want to see it."

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He turned without another word, and Skye took in

the brilliant colors, the flawless detail of a classic, Asian-style phoenix that covered his entire back. The feathered wings flowed over the muscular ripple of his shoulders; the body and the sweeping tail curved sinuously down

his back to his waist. It was beautiful, the detail exquisite.

The eyes of the mythical bird glowed like a pair of

emeralds within the fire of the red, gold and orange

plumage. She reached out to touch it, felt him shiver

beneath her fingertips.

"It's magnificent. Rising out of the ashes…" She traced her finger lower, over the scar across his ribs she'd discovered earlier.

He yanked away. "Don't, Skye." His voice held a dark edge she'd never heard from him before.

"Why not? It's a part of you."

He turned back to her, his eyes blazing. "You don't get it, do you? This is a part of me I never wanted to

expose to anyone. And you ripped it out of me."

"No, don't try to blame me, Adam. Some part of you wanted to tell me, had a need to, I think." Her heart was hammering in her chest. She had the sense something

important was happening here, and the idea that she

could lose him now scared her half to death. But she was angry, too. "I'm going home now."

He stood up, in all his naked, masculine glory. She

had to look away. He was too beautiful, and it stung.

"That's probably a good idea. Before we really hurt each other. I'll take you as soon as I'm dressed."

"I can call a cab."

"I said I'll take you."

Fire in his blue eyes. He was angry. But it was also

about the power in him, the pure energy of who he was.

She felt as though her heart was breaking. How was that possible? She'd known him less than two weeks.

She nodded, retrieved her clothes, and quietly put

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them on, holding back the tears that burned at her eyes, tightened her throat. Even dressed, she was shivering.

With a kind of shock. With a deep dread that she may

never see him again. That she shouldn't see him again.

He was dressed now, too, making him seem even

more remote. "You're cold. I'll get one of my coats for you."

When he went down the hall to his bedroom, she

unlocked the front door and fled into the night.

* * * *

heard from him. Of course, he had every right to be

angry with her after she'd run out on him like that.

Terrible of her, she knew, but she'd had to get out of

there. Curled up on her old, overstuffed velvet sofa, as she was now, she'd spent the entire week going over

their conversation, dissecting it from every angle. But she always came to the same conclusion: Adam was

incapable of real intimacy. He'd pretty much told her so himself, had even told her why. And he resented that

she'd made him do it.

What sort of transformation would he have to go

through before he could break through those old walls? If he was even willing to try.

No, he would have dumped her sooner or later, and

the longer it took, the more attached she would have

become, until his rejection would have been unbearable.

It was nearly unbearable now.

She turned to look out the living room window at

the cityscape she had always loved. But it looked bleak and lonely to her now. As empty as she felt on the inside.

She'd been drawing him all week. The table in her

tiny kitchen was littered with sketches in charcoal and pencil. She'd tried to capture the musculature of his big body, the details of his strong hands, his tattoo. Mostly she'd tried to draw his face. But she couldn't seem to get 47

SURRENDER

the eyes right.

Finally, she'd set up her easel in the living room,

close to the bay window, and painted, just a series of

strokes in burnt umber and highlighted with white. The

result wasn't very good. But it captured him a little better than the flatter sketches did. Still, his eyes refused to come alive for her.

She still had paint under her fingernails. She hadn't

bothered to give her hands a good scrub. Hadn't bathed

in a day or two. She wasn't really sure how long it had been since she'd done anything more than throw on an

old pair of paint-splattered jeans and a warm thermal

top, twisting her long hair up into a loose ponytail. She felt like a mess, inside and out. She couldn't get warm, no matter how high she turned up the furnace, no matter

how many layers of clothing she put on. The cold came

from deep inside her, like an internal stratum of ice.

So this was what a broken heart felt like. She didn't

much like it. In fact, it was fucking awful.

She hadn't cried since she'd left his house. She hadn't been able to. Hadn't known anything other than this

pervasive sense of pain that lay heavy in her chest every waking moment.

She dragged a pillow close and held it to her chest,

telling herself to pull herself together. She had a gallery show next month, and she was behind in her work. But

she was completely devoid of inspiration.

She sighed, shook her head, and jumped at the knock

at her door. Her heart leaped in her chest as she moved across the living room into the hall, and opened the door.

"Hi…um…are you Skye Ballard? I think I got your

mail." A gawky young man with dark-framed glasses

and a Charlie Brown sweater stood there, several

envelopes in his hand.

"Oh, yes, that's me." Why did her heart drop into her stomach? Had she really expected that he would come

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after her? "Uh, thanks."

She took the mail, turned, and swung the door

behind her. It didn't close.

She could smell him. She'd know his scent

anywhere. She whirled around, her legs going weak

already, and he was there. Adam. She could hardly

believe it.

The mail dropped onto the wood floor, but she

didn't care. What could he possibly want? And why did

he have to look so damn beautiful, making her head

spin?

Oh, God.

She put a hand to her hair self-consciously.

"Skye."

Even the sound of his voice made her quiver all over.

She had to get a hold of herself. "Adam. What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you, talk to you."

She couldn't figure out what to say, so she stepped

aside and let him in. Her pulse was racing with fear, with a yearning so strong she could hardly stand it. She led him into the living room, gestured for him to sit down, but he went immediately to the painting by the window.

"It's me."

She bit her lip. "Yes."

"You're very good."

"It's awful. It's not…I can't get it right."

When he turned, his gaze was full of emotion.

Shocking, to see his face like that. "No, Skye. You had it right all along."

"What do you mean?"

Two long strides and he was right in front of her. He

took her shoulders in his hands, held on tight. Her heart hammered as though it would pound right out of her

chest. And she was going weak all over from his touch,

his scent, from the nearness of him.

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"Damn it, Skye, all the way over here, I knew exactly what I needed to say to you. But now I'm here,

and…you're so fucking beautiful, I'm speechless. And

that's never happened to me before."

Tears stung her eyes, but she had to laugh. "I look like hell."

He shook his head, his blue eyes dark, intense. "You look perfect. That's why I'm here. You are perfect, and I'm an idiot to pass that up. You are perfect for me."

"I don't understand."

"That last night…everything you said was true. I

knew it. I was just too damn stubborn to listen. And what did that get me? A fucking miserable week without you."

"It's been eight days," she said quietly.

He nodded. "Eight long days with me driving myself crazy thinking about you, needing you. I know I'm an

asshole, Skye. I'm sorry, I truly am sorry. And I know we hardly know each other. But we
do
. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes. I know exactly."

She was beginning to warm up, finally. The heat

started where his hands were planted on her shoulders,

spread down into her belly. It was the intensity of the physical chemistry between them; there was no denying

it. But it was something more, too. She could see it on his face. Felt it in every beat of her heart.

"Tell me what this means, Adam. Please."

"I don't know. This is all new to me. But I want to find out."

He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, bent down

and kissed her. His lips were the sweetest thing she'd

ever tasted. And his hands holding her face felt safe and warm.

He moved her to the sofa, laid her down, lowered

his body over hers. He was still kissing her, his tongue doing lovely things to her mouth, sending heat lancing

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through her body. Her breasts filled, ached, and when he crushed her body to his, she wanted nothing more than

to be right there, with him.

"Touch me, Adam. Be with me."

"That's all I want, Skye," he murmured, taking her clothes off, raining kisses over her shoulders, her breasts, her belly.

This was new to her, too, allowing herself to feel this way about a man, wanting him to feel the same way

about her. Even though neither of them knew exactly

where they were going, they would explore the

possibilities together.

In moments, they were both naked, and he was

poised over her body. She wrapped her arms around his

neck and opened to him. Completely. And when he

entered her, she was lost in his embrace. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to be.

Adam had been right, in their very first

conversation. She'd had to break control, to let it go.

Finally, she'd found the way. With him.

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Submissive Secrets

Eliza Gayle

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TALES OF EROTIC SUBMISSION

Also by Eliza Gayle

Taken By Tarot

"Dragon's Fate" from

Phaze Fantasies, Vol. III

Pentacles of Magick: The Bonding

Pentacles of Magick: The Burning

Pentacles of Magick: The Healing

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SURRENDER

The familiar rush of cool air enveloped Carli as she

opened her front door and walked inside. The warming

scent of fresh baked apples and the soft glow of her

dimmed kitchen lights welcomed her as usual. Kicking off her boots and hanging her jacket on a hook, she could

think of little else besides a cold beer and a long soak in her Jacuzzi tub. Rolling her shoulders, she winced as the muscles tightened painfully.

What I need is a man, someone to help release some of this
tension.

The day had not gone well. When she proved her

latest client's husband to be a lying, cheating bastard, as usual, the woman had not been grateful for the news and became hysterical. Carli had spent the last hour being

yelled at and slapped in the face, and then, to add insult to injury, she had to mop up buckets of tears.
I can't believe
she caught me off guard on that one
. She reached up and touched her still-throbbing cheek. Sometimes it sucked

being a private investigator.

When had her life taken such a dark turn? She felt a

far cry from her days as a sniper in the Marine Corps. Her time in the military had been exciting, a real thrill a minute. Traveling all over the world, she led a group of hunky soldiers who jumped at her every command. Carli

even got to play with big guns. She especially loved the big guns. Her life had been perfect. Except one thing…Aidan.

She tried everything to forget him. Work. Exercise.

Sex—lots of sex. But nothing could erase the memories of 54

TALES OF EROTIC SUBMISSION

her sweet Aidan. Her nipples tightened, as always, when thoughts of him and his long lanky frame pressed tightly against hers came to mind. While not overly muscled, his youthful body had been firm and fit. Shaking her head, she did her best to push back the memories before she ended up with either a headache or a bleeding heart once again.

Eight years had passed since she'd seen him last. Walking away from him was her biggest mistake. When would she

be able to forget?

"Uh…"

She froze in mid step.

What the hell was that? Someone's in my house.
Dammit. I
do not fucking need this right now.

Automatically she reached behind her and pulled her

Glock from the waistband of her tight jeans. Slipping the safety off, she crept down the hallway in the direction of the sound. A visual sweep of the kitchen revealed nothing.

Moving toward her bedroom, she detected someone's light breathing.

Gun at the ready, she eased into her room, looking for

her intruder. The gentle snoring became louder, and as she glanced to the bed in the corner she caught sight of a

glorious full moon shining up.

Holy shit! There's a naked man sleeping in my bed, with the
finest ass I have ever seen.