ReclaimedSurrender

by Riley Murphy

  Reclaimed Surrender

  Riley Murphy

  Things take a sizzling turn when Rene Tanner finds himself neck-deep in marital unbliss. He’s fully prepared to do whatever it takes to reclaim his wife’s surrender. The way he sees it? He’s been putting her on a pedestal when all she really wanted—needed—was for Rene to put her on her knees.

  Alexis Tanner has felt alone and unfulfilled for quite a while. So when her marriage counselor suggests a week of “As You Wish” therapy, she’s expecting to be wooed with chocolates and flowers. Instead she winds up in leather restraints and a silver collar. Now she must surrender to her darkest desires—or be forced to let Rene go forever.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Reclaimed Surrender

  ISBN 9781419938276

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Reclaimed Surrender Copyright © 2012 Riley Murphy

  Edited by Grace Bradley

  Cover design by Kendra Egert

  Photography: istockphoto.com & CGtextures.com

  Electronic book publication February 2012

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Reclaimed Surrender

  Riley Murphy

  Dedication

  To my honey. For all those times you made me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry.

  Acknowledgments

  To Kyle and Brooke, for always being there when I needed a pep talk. Bet you thought I wasn’t listening.

  To my CP, Christine Bell, who gave me the courage to put all my words down on paper (especially the dirty ones), and to my most awesome editor, Grace Bradley, who gave me the opportunity to realize a dream.

  You guys rock!

  Chapter One

  She tipped the driver and rather than wait for his assistance, Alexis Tanner opened the car, momentarily thankful for the blistering-cold air that greeted her. The airport limo was stuffy, which did nothing to improve her mood. She got out of the cab and silently groaned. Her feet were killing her, her head ached, and now to top it all off she suspected her husband might be awake at this late hour waiting for her. The heavy bar of light shooting out of their living room window left a patch of sparkling crystals winking across the snowy lawn. The effect was a cozy greeting until the frosty temperature pierced her to the bone.

  “Damn.” Crossing her arms, she drew in her shoulders and examined the two-story brick and stone Tudor, while she waited for the driver to retrieve her bag. She loved their house. The sharply pitched roof lines, the earthy tone of the brick combined with the various shades of stone were inviting and yet austere. Welcoming and yet commanding all at the same time, like her husband. Well, the way he used to be.

  “Do you want me to help you with this?”

  Blinking, she realized she still held the car door open. The icy winds made the loose advertising stickers plastered on the glass partition flutter and snap. “I’ve got it.” She slammed the door shut. “Thanks.”

  That seemed to be her standard answer lately. Ever since she’d taken back full control of her life. With a flick, she extended the handle of her tidy Samsonite suitcase and let it bump along behind her as she carefully made her way up the walk. Despite the light drenching the outside in certain places it was still dark and treacherous, given that she was wearing three-inch stilettos and there was frost scattered across the interlocking brick, which she and Rene had installed last year. She pulled her keys from of her pocket. Yep, better to be vigilant than risk breaking an ankle. She might be at the point in her career where she could take time off from work when she wanted to. Problem was, she didn’t want to, because then she’d be stuck in the one place she dreaded being these days.

  Home.

  Turning the key in the lock and hearing the familiar clunk as the deadbolt tumbled, she automatically stiffened. Great, here came the stress. It usually landed somewhere between her shoulder blades and mid-back. How had her life become so complicated? She used to arrive at her door and breathe a sigh of relief, knowing her responsibilities to the outside world were over, but not anymore. Now she had to brace herself before she entered. It was as if everything in her life was turned upside down. Her home with Rene, which had always been her sanctuary, had become a battlefield. Worse, the only place she seemed to find any refuge these days was at work.

  How messed up was that?

  Yanking her suitcase forward, she swore under her breath when it hit the doorjamb. There was always the slim possibility that Rene was in bed. With that in mind, rather than tossing her keys into the Tiffany bowl they’d gotten as a wedding gift, she quietly placed the set on top of her husband’s, and froze. Right there beside the bowl were the aligned sticky notes she’d left for him on Thursday telling him about her impromptu business trip. She put her keys down and did the mental equivalent of a head scratch.

  Rene hadn’t called, nor had he responded to her two text messages in the three days she’d been gone.

  That fact alone was shocking enough because he always communicated. But more worrisome was that she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in touch until now. Clearly she wouldn’t be winning any wife of the year award.

  Maybe he’d left her.

  That lit a fire under her butt. Kicking off her shoes, she was halfway up the stairs in her panic before she spotted him. His large, unmoving silhouette eclipsed the blazing fire in their living room. His back was to the entranceway while the front of him faced the flames.

  “Rene?” She came down the stairs. “Are you all right?”

  Absently she unwound her scarf and began unbuttoning her coat, waiting for him to turn around, but he didn’t move. He remained completely still, which instantly triggered a desire in her to stop fidgeting and look down at the floor. Every fiber of her being wanted to do this, yet she fought it. He didn’t deserve that kind of respect from her. Not anymore. Not after what he’d done. But crap, his huge form owned the space around him as if even the molecules in the air were his to command.

  “Yes, Alexis, I’m fine.”

  Her fingers tripped over the action of undoing the last button on her three-quarter-length navy peacoat. It wasn’t so much the words that gave her pause as the tone he used to speak them. She remembered that domineering tone of his as clearly as she’d remembered the special times he invoked it to make her comply, and fought back a
shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Take off your coat.”

  There was an implied “or else” attached to that short sentence and it caused a delicious thrill to race up her spine and tickle her neck. Closing her eyes, she savored it for a moment until she remembered how seductive and dangerous responding to that kind of assertiveness could be with him. With a mental shake, she refocused and as usual steeled herself against it.

  Shrugging out of the warm wool garment, she laid it, with her scarf, over the arm of the chintz couch. “Is something wrong? Didn’t you get my note?”

  “I waited for you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Now he turned and the dark expression on his gorgeous face spoke to her more clearly than any words uttered between them over the past year in couple’s counseling had. Was this it? Was this the moment he was going to ask for a separation? Funny, she always imagined they’d be grown up about it. Discuss it civilly, maybe over a bottle of wine in an elegant restaurant as they made the necessary arrangements.

  “I waited for you on Thursday at The Devonsleigh. You never showed up.”

  Slowly, she let out the breath she’d been holding and relaxed. Smoothing her palms down the sides of her skirt, she was drawing a blank as to why he was angry. It wasn’t as if this were the first time she’d had to cancel plans with him recently. Business was business and they both knew only too well it always came first. There was something else going on here. There was an aura around him. That lethal magnetism was back. Had he gotten a new haircut or something, because he looked hot. Really hot.

  When that possibility occurred to her, she narrowed her eyes and examined him. His thick hair was swept off his forehead and fell to his shoulders in a series of blue-black waves that deliciously framed his cheekbones. The straight line of his nose set off one of his best assets, his jaw. It was strong, squarely cut and split with the sexiest cleft imaginable. It didn’t hurt that it was shadowed at the moment, with a sooty layer of stubble. That phenomenon always got her thinking of morning and bed and not in that order. God, she didn’t want to look up into his eyes. It was too dangerous. She knew if she let her guard down she’d drown in those sherry-colored depths. Instead, she studied the generous breadth of his shoulders, thinking it was safer terrain, but where Rene was concerned, it wasn’t. His big body literally oozed testosterone and if she weren’t careful, that powerful lure of his might snag her in…again.

  Too late. It was only a matter of seconds and she vividly recalled how she used to sink her teeth into the hard muscles of his shoulders when he had her trapped between his solid weight and the mattress. Pounding into her with a force that…darn, what was she doing? Focus. Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside the erotic visuals until he held up his hand and purposely flexed it.

  Oh. My. God.

  “I forgot our anniversary dinner.”

  “You didn’t forget it, you abandoned it.”

  “No, I…” His penetrating look silenced the excuse she was going to make. With that off the table what else could she offer besides, “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, only turned away. Which was worse than if he’d yelled at her. If he’d just say what needed to be said between them. Lord knew she didn’t have the courage. She was too afraid to bring it up again. If she did, she feared she’d risk losing the little bit of him she still held on to.

  “I bet you are.” He raked a hand through his hair and the unconscious action got her heart pumping and then it skipped a beat when he added, “I wish it were different. It isn’t. The way I see it, we’re at a crossroads here.”

  She was nauseated and lightheaded all at once. Here it comes. The words you’ve been waiting for. She held on to the back of the couch for support, not saying anything, just watching him as he paced. Trying to keep herself together before she fell apart.

  Abruptly he stopped and swung around. “You have nothing to say?”

  Yes. I do. I want to be able to trust you. “No.”

  “No?” The fire popped and crackled several times until he let out a weary breath. A deep release of air, as if he’d been holding it in for a lifetime. A year that seemed a lifetime. “You’re cheating.”

  Cheating? “No. No! I swear. I—”

  He cut her off. “You’re not cheating on me. You’re cheating me, period.”

  The dark look he gave her shot through her like an electric charge. Touching all her sensitive places, especially when he ordered, “Sit down, Alex.”

  He pointed to the couch and she was happy to comply, because her legs were like jelly. Relief warred with guilt and she contemplated telling him everything. She wobbled and tried to hide her nerves by shifting her feet and that’s when her toe knocked against something. Looking down, she hesitated. What were her journals doing here? The whole stack of them, not just the few she’d given him at the therapist’s suggestion.

  “Wh-what are all of these doing here?” She tapped the one closest to her with her stocking foot and boldly held his gaze.

  He didn’t blink, but his expression softened. “What happened to us, Alex? Where did the girl go who tackled me in flag-football games, beat me in bowling and cheated when we played cards? Where is she? Why isn’t she happy anymore? Where’s her laughter?” His voice dropped down husky and low as he whispered, “Where’s that submissive woman who opened up to me completely and shared all her secrets? Don’t tell me a foolish misunderstanding scared her away and closed her up. I thought she was braver than that.”

  Alexis forgot about her journals. She swallowed, her nose burned, and her eyes stung with gathering tears. He wasn’t supposed to bring this up. He was supposed to say he hated her for changing the plan. For changing her mind. Too late now. Say it.

  “We’ve grown apart. We want different things.” And with that truth her heart shattered. The upside? It made enough room in her chest so she could finally breathe. It was over.

  “Bullshit!”

  She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, feeling like a coward and then a hypocrite the moment he’d sworn, because deep down she wanted all the buried feelings to be bullshit in the worst possible way. They weren’t.

  “It’s true.”

  Something broke inside her and she burst out crying. She didn’t care how pathetic she looked or sounded. This was too big. Too awful. Too overwhelming to make logical sense.

  And then suddenly he was there, tilting her chin up and brushing her tears away with his thumb. This gentle action only made her cry harder.

  “Shh, shh.” He cupped the side of her face in his hand and leaned down to whisper, “It may be true today, Alex, but there’s always a tomorrow. Go upstairs and wait for me.”

  She took a deep and steadying breath, trying to stem the waterworks while she thought about what he’d said.

  “Go. Now.”

  His look was angry yet there was a brutal tenderness there as well. A measure of control that had nothing to do with the emotions he was feeling. At least she didn’t think so, because he seemed totally together. So much like the powerful man she’d been able to trust and had fallen in love with that her response to his command was automatic.

  “Okay.”

  The second he let go and stepped back she watched her journals topple and fan out like fallen dominoes across the carpet at their feet. She hiccupped once and sniffled. “Rene?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What were you doing with all my journals?”

  He didn’t blink or make any kind of excuse when he answered. “Research.”

  * * * * *

  There were few times in Rene Tanner’s life when he was powerless. This last year, while he watched his marriage tank, was one of those times. He’d run through the cycle and even when they started out talking, it seemed as if they always ended up yelling. Eventually, the quiet months followed and he wasn’t prepared for silence. It was crushing. All this led to counseling, but that didn’t help either. How could it when
Alexis refused to be honest with the counselor about the depths of the intimacy in their relationship?

  He thought about the latest “therapy exercise” gone awry and frowned. Even if they were an average couple, Alex’s behavior and the way she’d chosen to squander her chance to try to change things between them had to be addressed. Her opting to take on another work assignment instead of facing the problems they had at home was something that needed to be dealt with. She may be content hiding her head in the sand, but he wasn’t. They were both equally responsible for the current situation, yet it was clear there was only one of them strong enough to do anything about it. The bottom line? The thought of how close he was to losing her was tearing him up inside and he was prepared to use anything at his disposal to stop that from happening.

  Admittedly at first glance the idea of the relationship contract their therapist had presented to them and the exercise examples it encompassed seemed silly and pointless. Flowers and dinner? A romantic movie night or a greeting card for her just because might do it for a traditional couple. Since their tendencies ran more toward Marquis De Sade than the Cleavers he’d almost blown off doing it like she had, until he saw how the contract could be tweaked with the right creative spin to accommodate his and his wife’s particular tastes.

  When that had come to him, he’d figured he should have been grateful to the therapist because she’d inadvertently given him a legitimate opportunity to have total control over the situation and there wasn’t a damn thing Alexis could do about it. His wife had her turn and now it was his.

  Five minutes later he entered their room. “Alex?”

  She slammed one of the double closet doors and spun around. “Where are my clothes?”