PrideandSurrender

by Julia Devlin

  He pressed his lips to the inside of my ankle, his tongue flickering along the bone. It was exquisite and intimate. A rush of greediness shook me.

  He lifted his head and our gazes locked together. “Thank you.”

  He slipped the shoe off and repeated the same gesture with the other foot, tucking them both underneath me when he was done. Desire hummed inside me, making me forget all about the fight, the struggle. For this moment in time, I wanted to be free. Free to touch him, free to relax, to let down my guard.

  “Red or white?”

  Dazed, my muscles already loose, I blinked back at him, at a complete loss for what he was talking about.

  “Wine, Juliet.” The corners of his mouth twitched as he waved the goblet he held in his hand.

  Least he get too comfortable, I raised one brow. “You’re pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged one big shoulder, not even bothering to look chagrined. “Everything about you pleases me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You must be a glutton for punishment.”

  “You’re not as scary as you’d like to be.” He leaned forward, running a hand along my thigh as if he’d been doing it for years. “I see past all your defenses.”

  My throat dried up like a mirage in the middle of a desert. I licked my lips. The need to know what he saw beat in my chest. Was I brave enough? I nodded. Today, I was. I propped my head into my open palm and asked tentatively, “And what do you see?”

  His hand smoothed over my leg. “First, red or white?”

  I looked at the delicate spread stretched out on the table before me. “Normally, I prefer red, but this seems like a meal made for white.”

  He nodded, leaning forward he picked up a bottle and uncorked it. “Red it is.” He poured the deep, smoky liquid into the glass and handed it to me. “You should always go with what you really want.”

  I took the glass with trembling hands and raised it to my lips, taking a sip. The smooth, dry flavor of pinot noir slid down my throat, warming my nervous stomach. I’d never been wooed before, never encouraged it from men, but Christos made it work.

  He poured himself a glass and leaned back on the couch, his hand never moved from my leg. He glanced around my office, taking in the exposed brick and duct work, the high ceilings that made up the loft space. “I like this, it fits you.”

  “Katherine found it. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. She might have found the space, but this office is all you.”

  I frowned. Somehow irrationally irritated by his assertion. The space was all warm and cozy with dark cherry woods, deep reds and rich browns.

  Couldn’t he see how cold I was? If I’d picked something that reflected me, I’d have gone with gun-metal industrial. “Katherine decorated.” My tone took on the distinctive bite I reserved just for him.

  He cocked one brow. “She obviously knows you well.”

  I opened my mouth to protest then snapped it shut. What was I doing? Did I really want to ruin this decadent mood between us over decorating? I shrugged and took another sip of the wine.

  He pointed at a framed photograph. “That picture, it’s beautiful and haunting. Who’s the artist?”

  I stared at the black-and-white photo, a long stretch of deserted highway with an abandoned farmhouse on the side, storm clouds filling the vast sky. My heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t the first person to ask the question, and I’d never told anyone who’d done the piece. But I wanted him to know. I took a deep breath and dove in. “I am.”

  His fingers tightened on my leg and there was a moment of silence, the air still. “You’re very talented.”

  “It was a fluke,” I said, matter-of-fact. I wasn’t being modest. I’d never been able to capture anything quite like it ever again, although I’d tried countless times.

  “Maybe.” His head rested along the back of the couch and he turned to me. “Or maybe you’re just too scared at what you felt to journey back.”

  Again his own personal brand of truth hit me as if I’d been jackknifed in the stomach. It was the reason I’d never told anyone I’d done the picture. The expectation of a follow up that was far too desolate for me to explore.

  I licked my lips. Words filled my mouth, desperate to escape. I’d never been a talker, never wanted to confess. I loved the safety of everything being locked up inside me. Trapped in a tight cocoon of my own making, spinning around me in layer after layer, protecting the fragile insides no one but Christos had ever suspected.

  As much as Christos scared me, the words tumbled out anyway, at long last refusing to be contained. “Sometimes, when I need to think, I get in my car and drive. I always go somewhere remote and I always take my camera. I like photography and the unexpected things you encounter when you develop the photo.

  “The storm had been about to break when I spotted the house. I pulled over and there was no one out. I still remember the whip of the wind against my hair, the smell of danger and electricity charging the air. The contrast between all that lonely isolation and the violence of the upcoming storm…” I trailed off, taking a sip of the wine. Sitting in the car that dark afternoon with the storm raging around me, I’d felt alive and raw and so very alone.

  His strong, warm palm rubbed, taking the chill away. “You’ve never told anyone, have you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  I blinked the memory away, shifting my gaze from the photograph to him. Why? That was all I could think. I had to know. “Why, after all the time we’ve known each other, when there’s been nothing but animosity between us, are you doing this now? What’s your motive?”

  A smile curved over his lips. “There’s my Juliet.”

  Shivers raced through me, and I fought to keep the tremble from him. There was the “my” again. The possession, the claiming, I was ashamed at how much I wanted it. Craved to make it absolute truth.

  I tilted my head to the side, my eyes narrowing, but I said nothing.

  He shrugged. “Has it really been animosity between us?”

  “Yes,” I stated in a firm tone, refusing to acknowledge what he was getting at.

  “Liar.” His thumb traced circles on my thigh, right over my knee. Soft and insistent, he moved higher along the inside of my leg, and my body heated at his touch, my panties growing damp. He twisted, moving closer, sliding his arm around the back of the couch to surround me. “You can wish it was a thousand different emotions than what it is, Juliet.”

  I knew, of course, what it was, but I couldn’t even think it, let alone say it. More than anything I wanted to hear him say it, but it terrified me too much and I’d already given him more than I’d given anyone in a very long time.

  I glanced away, looking out the window, staring at the skyline in the distance. Tightness filled my throat and I willed myself not to break down.

  We stayed like that for a long time. A thick silence permeated the air as I watched the white fluffy clouds roll slowly past the Chicago skyscrapers. The clear, brilliant blue a perfect photo background. Outside, the temperature was a mild eighty degrees with low humidity. A rare day in a city where it was often too hot or too cold.

  I experienced a strange urge to go stretch out on a blanket at Oak Street beach and let the sun warm my skin. It had been forever since I’d done that. On impulse, I turned to him and found him watching me with that studied gaze. I cleared my throat. “What are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?”

  Surprise flickered in his green eyes. “I kept my calendar clear.” A smile spread over his lips. “I was feeling hopeful.”

  My gaze swept over the food. “I know you went through a lot of trouble, but the beach isn’t far from here, and it’s beautiful outside.” My tone turned hesitant, and a sudden shyness left me stammering like a sixteen-year-old asking a boy to her first turnabout dance. “Can we… Would you…like to spend the afternoon with me?” A hot flush fanned up my neck
and spilled onto my cheeks.

  He leaned in and kissed me. It was hard, fast and over much too soon. When he pulled back, I saw none of the triumph I’d expected to read in his face, instead the corners of his eyes crinkled as he gave me that heartbreaker’s smile. “I would love to, Juliet.”

  Chapter Five

  Thirty minutes later I was exactly where I wanted to be. I kicked off my shoes and abandoned them in the sand. The fine, soft grains slid over my bare toes as I wiggled and they shifted over my skin. Sinking down on the blanket next to Christos, I was surprised to see he’d discarded his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans.

  I stared at his feet, for a man they were nice, strong-boned and masculine. It felt intimate and familiar somehow to be sitting here with him, our feet bare, sharing the light blue blanket I kept in my office for just this occasion. I didn’t want to think about what was happening or where this was going or where we’d end up. For once, all I wanted was to enjoy the moment and not worry.

  I raised my face to the sun, closed my eyes and breathed in deep. The smell of the lake, the warm breeze, the waves gently lapping against the shore mixed with the sounds of the city to create a melody that had my muscles relaxing.

  I opened my eyes when I could no longer ignore the man sitting next to me. Without looking at him, I said, “You’re staring.”

  “I can’t help it.” He wrapped his strong fingers around my wrist. “You’re beautiful.”

  Uncomfortable with his praise, I turned to him. “You don’t have to keep saying that.” I waved my hand in the air, taking in the scene around us. “You’re winning.”

  Instead of rising to the bait, he shrugged. “I’m winning because you want me too. I’m telling you you’re beautiful because that’s what I think.” He gave me a wicked grin. “Haven’t you heard I have impeccable taste?”

  I had actually, but I rolled my eyes instead of affirming his statement.

  Tracing a finger over the fine bones in my hand, he said, “Once you know me better, you’ll see I call it like I see it.”

  “Oh?” The day too perfect to ruin, I lost all the steam I’d been planning to build. “So what would you change about me in this moment?”

  His lips quirked and he gave me a long, slow once-over that had my toes curling in the sand. “Right now, two things.”

  Most men would have given me a “not a thing” line that would be as transparent as cellophane, but not Christos. A tiny grain of what felt a lot like trust wormed its way into my heart. He trailed a hand up my bare arm and fingered the band holding my dark-blonde hair back. “I like your hair down better.” He slipped it out before I could answer, and that luxurious sensation of the strands slipping free of its bindings to fall loose and free around my shoulders had shivers running up and down my spine.

  His long fingers tangled in my hair, combing through the locks. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes to the bright sun, and let him do what he wanted. How long had it been since I’d been touched like this? With care? And while I knew he wanted me—the sexual tension between us grew by the second—his touch, curiously, held no expectation. “Do you remember the Solutions Inc presentation?”

  “Of course.” I’d had to sit in an enclosed room with him for over an hour, with a bunch of high-powered professionals in black suits. We’d been positioned across from each other and my attention kept drifting off the men responsible for the decision making and onto the man across from me.

  That had been one job I hadn’t had to wonder why I lost.

  He swept my hair to the side and moved to kneel behind me. A soft brush of lips along the curve of my neck had me going stiff. Those large palms of his ran over my shoulders and began to knead tight muscles until I relaxed under him once again. When his thumbs pressed into a knot in my shoulder and circled, I was unable to hold back the moan.

  “Feel good?”

  “Yes.” Was that my voice? All soft and sweet?

  “Good,” he said, and increased his pressure until the knot magically loosened and released. “At the presentation, you had your hair bound into this tight twist at the nape of your neck.” His fingers brushed over the spot as though remembering. “And all I could think about was taking those pins out, one by one, until your hair looked exactly like it does right this second.”

  “A mess?”

  “Yes,” he said simply. “I like you messy.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, maybe because it makes you real.” His thumbs found another knot and began to knead. “I might have had some other impure thoughts.”

  The sun warming my skin and his hands on my back had my muscles feeling liquid, a smile tugged at my lips. “I’m not touching that one.”

  “Chicken,” he said with a chuckle. His mouth dropped down to the shell of my ear. “What if I tell you anyway?”

  “I think we’ve already proven I can’t stop you.” My breath caught in my throat as I sat perched on the edge of expectation. Wanting to know his thoughts but unwilling to ask for them.

  “The suit you had on was this dark gray number with a wide belt and sky-high black heels that made you look like you’d stepped out of the Maltese Falcon.” The seduction in his tone made my nipples puckered tight. “In my fantasy, after I took down your hair, I would strip you of your belt, that jacket, rip your blouse right off.”

  Mouth suddenly dry, I licked my lips, tasting the summer air on my skin along with desire. His hands slid down my back, working out the kinks. Anticipation flowed in my blood like fine wine. “All I could think about was pushing your skirt over your thighs and spreading you across that table. I can picture you there, arms stretched wide, your legs spread, cunt wet. I’d like to pretend I thought about lavishing your body with the attention it deserves, but that would be a lie.”

  My lungs began to burn and I realized I’d stopped breathing. I sucked in air and tried to calm my pounding heart. Liquid heat pooled between my thighs, and my clit swelled with each passing word he spoke.

  “Do you want to know what I imagined?” he asked, his mouth still next to my ear while his fingers rubbed the bumps of my spine.

  “Yes.” The word was out before I could stop it, and I leaned against his chest as I’d been wanting to all day. Teeth gently scraped the line of my jaw and his arms came around my waist so his large palms slid over my stomach.

  With a few simple words he’d managed to turn me on more than most men ever had. He shifted behind me, bracketing his thighs with mine until his cock nudged my lower back. Unable to help it, I stiffened, and his fingers stroked as he murmured nonsensical sounds in my ear until I was once again limp.

  “I wanted to take you,” he said. “Fuck you. Possess you. Fill you up until my come spilled onto your thighs.”

  Legs quivering, I bit down on my bottom lip, thankful that I was sitting down. His fantasy had been my fantasy too. I wanted what he wanted. I wanted to be claimed. Filled. I too had thought of him spreading me over that glossy mahogany conference table. That day, we’d been sitting across from each other thinking the exact same thing. Although, unlike him, I could never admit it.

  Behind me, he moved, and all his heat left with him. I sat up, straightening my back until my posture was once again proper. Loss washed through me as the mood broke and I cooled in an instant. I feared I’d never be that relaxed with him again. That somehow if there was ever a time I was going to give in, it was now. Irrational anger that it had been stolen away pricked over my skin.

  A large palm stroked over my spine. “Relax, Juliet, I’m not going anywhere.”

  I hated that he saw me so clearly. Saw everything—my need for him, my fear and my hope. Vulnerable was not good, he could crush me and I was letting it happen. Before I could say anything scathing, he’d stretched out his legs and was pulling me down to his lap.

  Brows snapping together, I glared at him. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought you’d be more comfortable.” His fingers curled around my wrist. �
�You need to eat.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Obviously.” Irritation flashed in his eyes and he raked his free hand through his hair. “Christ, Juliet, a man needs the patience of a saint with you. Now get over here.”

  His disgruntled expression and commanding tone calmed me in a way that softness couldn’t have. I needed that, his humanness in the face of mine. In answer, I shifted, until I could lie on my back and put my head on his thigh.

  He brushed my hair off my cheeks. “Was that so hard?”

  “Yes.” I met his gaze. “But it was easier than it should be.”

  “Progress,” he said, reaching into the bag next to him to pull out one of the sandwiches he’d brought to my office. Green eyes flicked to my mouth, clinging for a moment before he sighed and handed it to me.

  Our fingers touched and a jolt of awareness ran up my arm. Damn chemistry. It was so strong between us, almost a live, tangible thing. It messed everything up, made him impossible to resist.

  For today, I decided, I didn’t need to think about it. The truth was I wanted to be with him. In this moment, I wanted to forget everything but him. I wanted to forget all the reasons I was sure he’d hurt me. I’d been aching for him and now he was here.

  I’d treat it like the gift it was. For now.

  I unwrapped the paper that held the lunch he’d brought me. It was a girl sandwich, stuffed full of vegetables and some sort of white spread on multi-grain bread. Suddenly my stomach growled and I realized how empty it was. I took a bite, it was delicious and I moaned with appreciation. When I swallowed, I said, “This is so good.”

  “I got it from a store by my office, the girl at the counter insisted you’d love it.” He toyed with a lock of my hair as he smiled down at me.

  “Aren’t you eating?”

  “I will later.” He chuckled. “I’m assuming you don’t want stray crumbs falling over your face.”

  “True enough, but I can get up.” I moved to sit up, but the palm of his hand flattened over my stomach, pushing me back down.

  “Don’t even think about it.” His thumb stroked the under curve of my breast and my nipple beaded as though begging to be touched. “I’ve pictured you lying like this a million times, and you’re not ruining it for me.”