Give In To Me

by Lacey Alexander

  “Because no one depends on you, you feel like . . . ?” She wasn’t quite getting it.

  “If something happened to me, it wouldn’t be the end of the world—that’s all.”

  A light gasp escaped her, though she hoped he couldn’t tell. She didn’t know what to say. She could try to insist that surely he had people in his life who loved him and would miss him if he was suddenly gone, that surely someone in the world depended on him for something—but the truth was, she didn’t know. Maybe he really was that alone.

  They stayed quiet for a long, sad moment that she was sorry she’d created. Her heart beat too hard in her chest.

  God, why do I care so much? It’s not like he’s Prince Charming or anything.

  No, in fact, he was the polar opposite—the big bad wolf himself, as she’d thought of him so many times.

  And yet she did care. Somehow being so startlingly intimate with someone, and having shared such personal parts of herself with him, had made her care more than she’d known up to this moment, and it was a little jarring.

  “Rain’s stopping,” he said then, and she glanced out in time to see the last drops fall as the hard, steady patter on the sail above her ended in a freshly washed silence. Florida rains were often like that—ending as quickly as they began.

  They stayed mostly quiet as they backed down the small ladder they’d climbed to reach the platform; then April scurried to get dressed, thankful her clothes had been shed well beneath the sail’s shelter and had remained dry.

  “I’ll walk you back to your car,” he said, adding, “Not really safe for you to walk alone this late at night on the beach, Ginger.”

  “Okay,” she said quietly. “Thanks.”

  Their silence persisted on the walk, but when he took her hand, she let him. In one sense, the simple gesture surprised her, but in another, it felt . . . right. And it somehow made her feel better about the awkward moments she’d created with her questions—like maybe this was his way of saying he forgave her for asking about things he clearly didn’t want to discuss. And she didn’t feel bad for having asked—but at the same time, she didn’t want him to be mad at her, either.

  She’d found a rare evening parking spot right on Ocean Drive, so it was in the neon reflection of the old art deco hotels that lined the strip that they soon stood next to her car, Rogan leaning in to gently kiss her forehead. It was the most tender move he’d ever made toward her—they were usually all fire and heat—and she wasn’t sure if he was being more sweet than she was accustomed to or if this was just his way of keeping that mental wall up between them, at least a little.

  But either way, as he started to walk away from her, she said, “Rogan.”

  He turned to look.

  And she spoke from her heart. “If something happened to you on the job, it would matter to me. Just so you know.”

  His response? The tiniest hint of what struck her as a sad sort of smile. “Thanks, Ginger,” he said, then tossed her a wink and headed back toward the beach, soon disappearing among the shadowy, dark sea grass and dunes.

  Chapter 13

  Three days had passed since they’d fucked in the beachside park, and mostly, since then, Rogan had tried to keep his mind off her.

  After all, he had stuff to do. He’d worked a couple of long shifts when another officer had called in sick. He’d gotten together with Colt one night for a beer at a dance club on Lincoln Road. And he’d spent another night hanging out at the Café Tropico—but according to Dennis, Martinez and his thugs had been surprisingly absent lately. And while Rogan was a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten to bring them down, he was glad the problem had faded away and pleased that the place was no longer being overrun by troublemakers.

  And besides having stuff to do, well . . . Ginger was starting to get a little nosy. And deep. He wasn’t much of a sharer. And what they had going between them wasn’t supposed to be about that kind of sharing anyway.

  Hell, maybe that was why he liked it so much. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her—he knew that he was starting to care, at least a little—but a relationship about sex, and not sharing much else, just worked for him. Maybe especially after Mira. For now, he felt better—safer—just keeping things simpler. And for him, sex was pretty simple.

  Only now it was Saturday morning—just past ten—and it was the first day he had nothing in particular on his schedule. He was thinking he might hit the beach. And Ginger was back on his mind.

  But if you get her to come to the beach with you, you’re just inviting more of her questions, more of her wanting “to get to know you.”

  And yet the simple truth was—meeting up with her at the beach sounded . . . nice. A hell of a lot better than going alone.

  So don’t overthink it. Don’t worry about anything. And besides, if she gets too pushy, just remind her who’s in charge. He hadn’t planned it this way, but turned out that was kind of his ace in the hole.

  So without weighing it any further, he pulled out his phone, found her in his contact list, and typed in a text message: WHAT ARE YOU DOING TODAY?

  She answered quickly. TAKING MY YOUNGEST SISTER SHOPPING.

  FOR WHAT? He could be nosy, too. At least when it came to things he thought April—for all her intelligence—needed a little prodding and help with.

  CLOTHES. BIG DATE WITH HER BOYFRIEND TONIGHT.

  YOU’RE BUYING, I GUESS?

  She paused before replying this time: OF COURSE. I’M PATHETIC, RIGHT?

  Well, he wouldn’t go that far, but . . . he’d just cut right to the chase here. MEET ME AT THE BEACH IN AN HOUR.

  I CAN’T. I TOLD YOU, I’M TAKING MY SISTER SHOPPING.

  The fact was, if she’d had something important to do—like if she was taking her grandmother shopping or had something work-related on her agenda—he’d let her off the hook. But the way he saw it, this just happened to be fortunate timing. So the moment had come to lay down the law. IT ISN’T A REQUEST, GINGER. MEET ME AT THE BEACH.

  When she didn’t respond right away it surprised him that his heart began to thump a little harder in anticipation. Would she defy him when they weren’t in the heat of the moment, at a time when she wasn’t necessarily in a submissive mood? He didn’t think so. But in truth, he wasn’t sure. Come on, Ginger baby, don’t let me down.

  When the text notification sounded, he glanced down, almost wild with eagerness to see her reply. I CAN’T GET THERE THAT FAST. PROBABLY CLOSER TO 90 MINUTES. BUT I’LL DO MY BEST.

  A warm glow spread through him and his cock began to harden slightly in the khaki shorts he’d thrown on a little while ago. He typed in his answer. GOOD GIRL. I’LL BE NEAR THE 5TH STREET LIFEGUARD STATION, THE BLUE AND GREEN ONE THAT SAYS MIAMI BEACH. SEE YOU SOON, BABE.

  * * *

  April stood in her living room, staring at her phone a long moment after that last text arrived. Part of her couldn’t believe she was letting him do this, letting him actually manipulate her plans. But another part of her had felt . . . almost empty not hearing from him these past days, and like she wanted to be back with him again, even if it meant being in that strange state of surrender he put her in.

  And so now she would be.

  Just then, Amber exited her bedroom looking bright-eyed and perky in shorts and a cute fitted tee. Uh-oh. She’d agreed to meet Rogan, but she hadn’t quite figured out what to do about Amber.

  “Ready?” her little sister said with a cheerful smile.

  God, she loved Amber—she really did. Even if Amber took advantage of her, she was the apple of April’s eye—and Amber’s happiness ultimately had a lot to do with April’s happiness. Still, she said, “I . . . can’t go.”

  Amber flinched, her back going ramrod straight. “What? Why not?”

  My dominant lover has ordered me to the beach. Imagining the look on her sister’s face if she said that almost made her laugh out loud, but she held it in. Then considered just flat-out lying, saying it was a work emergency—but that d
idn’t feel right, either.

  So she ultimately chose a middle road. “I . . . have a date.”

  This news appeared to surprise Amber even more, judging from her wide eyes and dropped jaw. “A date? With who?”

  April tried to act cool—without forgetting to be a bit authoritative, too, as was her usual way. “Just a guy I met. It’s no big deal—not yet anyway. And I’m really sorry to cancel on you last minute. But the truth is—you have plenty to wear without me buying you something new. And I don’t do much for myself, and since this opportunity has come up, I’m going to go.”

  Amber’s expression grew more stunned by the moment, until finally she just quietly said, “Okay.”

  April gave a quick, pleased nod. “Thanks for understanding. And if I’m not back before your date tonight, have a good time.”

  * * *

  As April drove back to South Beach wearing only a pair of small black shorts over her newest bikini—which wasn’t particularly new at all, but it was a classic cut in a rich cobalt blue that looked good on her—she wondered if Rogan would be surprised by it. Amber had insisted April buy it when they’d actually been shopping for her one day a few years ago, and though it had felt a bit bold for April’s usual taste, she’d secretly liked the way she looked in it.

  Just like back at home, there remained a part of her that couldn’t believe she was rushing toward him like this, happily, glad to have her presence literally commanded by him. And yet . . . she couldn’t get him and their latest encounter off her mind.

  Yes, in all the obvious ways she relived certain raw, intense moments over and over again; for her, it was impossible not to feel viscerally connected to a man with whom she continued to share herself so intimately. But less obvious memories replayed in her head, too. Like when he’d told her she was beautiful. And then when they’d fallen into passionate kisses in the little slide tower—after the sex. Those had been . . . nice moments. They’d held . . . something that had gone beyond the game.

  Oh Lord, what are you thinking? That he’s in love with you or something? That he’s going to turn out to be some sort of well-disguised knight in shining armor?

  She gave her head a brisk shake as her car ascended onto the bridge that led to the beach. Because if she was starting to get attached to Rogan Wolfe romantically . . . well, that was crazy. Wasn’t it? Any tenderness he tossed her way was surely just to balance out the other parts, to give her what she needed. Because he seemed to know that, didn’t he? What she needed.

  Still, even as interesting as that was—to somehow magically run into a man who understood things about her that she couldn’t really understand herself—it didn’t add up to romance. So don’t go getting emotionally enmeshed here. And it wasn’t as if they had anything in common anyway, so that was another good reason not to take this for more than it was.

  In fact, maybe you should just stop thinking so much for a change. Because when she took that part out of the equation, she realized she felt . . . well, kind of happy. Happier, maybe, than she had in quite a while. Just because it sounded fun to go to the beach, to be meeting a handsome, sexy man there who wanted to be with her. And because it sounded easy, to know no big worries or responsibilities or decisions awaited her there, and if any came up, he would be glad to handle them.

  After finding a place to park, April hoisted her hastily packed beach bag onto her shoulder and trod on flip-flops across the sand, past the dunes, and onto the busiest part of South Beach. The sun shone high overhead and the beach was buzzing with locals and tourists alike.

  The first thing she caught sight of was a pair of boobs—when a young woman turned from her stomach to her back on a lounge chair—and then two small children ran past, toward the ocean, with plastic pails and shovels in hand. Although South Beach was clothing optional, April had always been surprised by the wide mix of people it drew, being nearly as popular for families as it was for singles and couples. Maybe it also surprised her that, despite there being a few topless women here and there on this busiest swath of sand, the place was hardly overrun with bare breasts, and in general, people acted relatively sedate and mature about it.

  In fact, the next sight she saw caught her off guard a great deal more—and it was Rogan Wolfe in a pair of red swim trunks. He sat stretched out on a pale blue blanket, eyes shut, head leaning back to soak up the sun, and he looked like . . . wow, some kind of amazing beach god.

  She’d just never realized . . . she’d never expected to be so very . . . affected. But affected she was. Up to now, even given the wild sex they’d indulged in, she’d just never really seen him wearing so little. His clothes were usually half-on or just undone—and there was always so much going on, so much else to be focused on at any particular moment; she’d never really experienced the simple pleasure of just looking at him. And he was a sight to behold.

  That’s when he opened his eyes.

  And she wondered if her lust was written all over her face. “Um, hi.”

  He flashed an easy, flirty smile. “Hi there, Ginger.”

  She lowered her beach bag to the blanket, then proceeded to kick off her shoes and push down her shorts.

  His glance immediately dropped to her bathing suit. “Nice, babe,” he said, and even just that, those two little words, rippled all through her.

  She wasn’t sure what came next, what to expect from the day, but it was a pleasant surprise when he motioned to a small cooler sitting in the sand nearby. “Don’t know if you ate lunch, but I made sandwiches. Wasn’t sure what you like—there’s turkey and ham.”

  Maybe the simple gesture shouldn’t have shocked her, but it did. It simply felt so . . . normal. And that was something this relationship just hadn’t been so far. “Um, no, I haven’t—and either is great.” Kneeling down on the blanket near him, she reached in her bag and drew out an apple and a banana—she’d tossed them in on her way out the door, her thoughts scattered but running in the same direction. “Here’s my contribution.”

  He grinned. “You eat lighter than me.” Then he said, “There’s Coke in the cooler, too. If you want something else, I can go track it down.”

  She shook her head. “No, Coke’s fine—thanks.”

  And that—unexpectedly, simply—was how the day went. They were like regular people at the beach, doing regular things. They ate. They made small talk. They applied sunscreen to each other’s backs—which was kind of a sexier part of normal, but still normal. They waded into the ocean, but it was too cold for both of them—even though Rogan promised he’d go swimming before the day was through. Then he told her a story about a day the previous summer when he’d gone waterskiing in frigid Lake Superior, nearly freezing his ass off, “but it was worth it.”

  “You like skiing that much?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows in amusement.

  He shook his head. “Sometimes ya just gotta do things that shake you up a little, remind you you’re alive—you know?”

  If he’d asked her that question a month ago, she’d have actually had no idea what he was talking about—but now, since meeting him, she felt she understood. “I think so,” she replied. “Like . . . making out with a hot stranger in an alley?” She offered a timid grin.

  One corner of his mouth quirked up in response. “Something like that,” he told her. And then, for the first time since she’d arrived, he leaned over, lifted her chin with one bent finger, and gave her a soft, firm kiss she felt all the way to her toes.

  Before long, they were walking up the beach, hand in hand, and talk turned to their work. “You love what you do, Ginger?” he asked her point blank.

  But she didn’t mind. In fact, she’d been thinking a lot about that very thing lately—maybe ever since their discussion about stress and control and why she might actually like being dominated by him. “I love practicing law, but . . . there might be other forms of it that would fulfill me more than what I’m actually doing. Maybe that’s why I squeeze in the pro bono work—it’s stressful, too, but
at least in the end I usually feel like I’ve done something worthwhile with my time.”

  “I don’t know much about being a lawyer, but any way you can make some changes?”

  She’d started thinking about that, too. “I work at a large firm with a lot of different branches and specialties, so I’m thinking I might start exploring some other options soon. I don’t think anyone I work with is going to like that idea, but . . . too bad.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said as easily as if they were a longtime couple—and just like always with him, earning his approval pleased her. “Gotta put yourself first sometimes in life, Ginger. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Do you love what you do, Rogan?” she asked then. To see if he’d give her any more than he had the last time they’d discussed this. He was the one who’d chosen to take things in this direction, after all.

  And though he didn’t go into great detail, he said, “Yeah, I do,” then expanded on a conversation they’d had once before, telling her a little about how much more interesting and action-packed it was to be a cop in Miami than in a small town in Michigan and how much better it suited him.

  “What brought you to Miami?” she asked.

  “Think I’ve made that clear. Just now and the last time we talked about it, too. Needed more action in my job,” he said.

  “It’s an awfully big move, though. I mean, there are plenty of big, perfectly exciting cities between here and Michigan.”

  “I have a friend here,” he said, not looking at her as they walked.

  “Must be a good friend,” she teased.

  But he only said, “Yeah, actually, he is a good friend.”

  And as she grew happy inside to know that he wasn’t as completely alone in the world as she’d begun to fear, he then proceeded to tell her about a group of guys he’d gone through police academy with, as well as some special hostage operations training. “We’ve always stayed in touch—and we get together at least once every summer. But I’m closer to Colt than most of them, and I’d been down here to visit him in the past, and . . . it just fit.”