Win by Submission

by Melynda Price

  Jumping up on wobbly legs, Katie ran back to the bedroom and abruptly stopped in the doorway, grasping the frame to steady herself. Just as she feared, the curtains hung open. A wave of revulsion swept over her and she pressed her hand to her stomach, fighting back the urge to vomit. Turning, she fled to the front door and wrenched it open. Unmindful of the bitter cold, she ran out the door, ignoring Cole as he shouted after her.

  She barely felt winter’s bite as she ran into the yard, her bare feet sinking into the snow past her ankles. The house lights provided just enough glow for her to see the trail of footprints leading around the house. Her heart rioted in her chest, her throat tightening with dread, making it nearly impossible to draw the frigid air into her lungs. Forcing one frozen foot in front of the other, she followed the tracks, already knowing where they would lead.

  “Katie!” Cole’s voice echoed into the night.

  As she rounded the corner of the house, she stopped, and so did the footprints—directly below Cole’s bedroom window.

  “Katie, get back inside the house!”

  Oh God, she was going to be sick! Turning back, she ran toward the house and burst through the front door where Cole stood, looking both worried and pissed as hell. Reaching out, he caught her in the doorway, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to stop.

  “What the hell was that about?” he demanded.

  “He saw us!” she wheezed, her lungs burning from the frozen air. “The curtains are cracked and there are footprints leading around the side of the house that stop below your window!”

  Cole snarled a curse that would have blistered her ears if she wasn’t busy trying not to throw up on his feet. The feeling of violation mixed with frostbite made her skin crawl with the burn of a thousand fire ants. Her stomach rebelled—really, this time—and she shoved past him, tearing out of his grasp as she ran for the bathroom. Slamming the door behind her, she dropped to her knees before the porcelain throne.

  Who knew it was possible to cry and puke at the same time? A wholly unpleasant experience, that. Thankfully, Cole gave her a few minutes to pull herself together before knocking on the bathroom door, though she’d need a hell of a lot longer than that.

  “Hey, Kat, can I come in?”

  Self-preservation had taken a strong hold of her now, the urge to shut down and draw into herself was instinctive. She knew she was pushing Cole away, but it didn’t matter. This was never going to work, anyway. As much as she wanted to get over her past, it would forever haunt her.

  “Kat, you’re scaring me. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  “I . . . can’t . . . do . . . this,” she hiccupped between sobs. “Please, Cole . . . just leave . . . me alone.”

  A soft thud echoed from the other side of the door. The sound one made when resting his forehead against it. A deep sigh resonated through the barrier and settled heavy on her heart. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out, Kat. I want to help you. We’re going to get through this.”

  She wanted to believe him. She really did. But he had no idea what they were up against. Carter was toying with her, and he wasn’t going to stop until she was dead.

  Cole wasn’t sure how long he sat outside that bathroom door, but it felt like fucking forever. He’d never been one to cater to a woman’s histrionic behavior, but something told him if he moved away from this door, he’d lose Katie forever. She was pushing him away. He could feel her withdrawing, shutting down, and in truth, it scared the hell out of him. They’d come so far, so close to breaking through her barriers and getting past her fears, and with the knock of a door, it’d all been undone.

  He swore to God the next time he saw Carter Owens, he’d fucking kill him. The thought that he’d watched them through the bedroom window, seen Cole and Katie together, didn’t bother him nearly as much as it did her. One man to another, it was the ultimate fuck you. He hoped that son of a bitch got a good long look at what he’d never have again—hoped the scream of her release would echo in that bastard’s ears until Cole put him out of Katie’s misery.

  Damn, she’d been hot—so sweet—so responsive to his touch. The tentative trust she’d given him was a humbling gift Cole had been honored to receive. Never had a woman felt so good, tasted so amazing . . . never before had he experienced the soul-deep connection he felt when Katie was in his arms. Which made her rejection now sting that much sharper.

  His ass was numb, having taken post on the floor some time ago. His legs ached, which was nothing new. He’d been abusing his body and pushing it past its limit for weeks—of course it was going to bitch at him, but he refused to move from this spot and seek the comfort of the couch. He needed her to know she could depend on him, that he wasn’t going to let her push him away. He meant it when he said she could trust him, and not with just her body, though he wanted that, too. He cared for her, more than he was willing to consider at present, because that would just open up a whole other mess of problems.

  How much longer could she stay in that shower? He posed the question in his mind for the tenth time when the water finally shut off. His imagination filled in the blanks as he heard the glass door rasp open. The cupboard door opened and shut. She’d be retrieving a towel to turban her wet hair, then grabbing a larger one from the bottom shelf to dry her body before wrapping it beneath her arms and tucking the corner near her breast. The soft pad of her bare feet against the tile drew closer. She was finally coming out. Thank God.

  Cole went to rise, but before he could get to his feet, the door swung open and Katie nearly tripped over him. She let out a startled yelp and stepped one leg over his waist, quickly regaining her balance. He looked up at her, but was having a hard time meeting her surprised stare. She’d grabbed the short towel. It barely covered her ass, and from this position, he got a spread eagle view of those gorgeous thighs he’d been buried between just a few short hours ago, and that hot little cunny he’d been moments from sinking his co—

  “What are you doing down there?” Katie demanded, reaching between her legs and grasping the ends of her towel closed.

  Cole cocked his brow. “A little late for modesty, don’t you think, Kat? You might try covering up some place my face hasn’t been.” He knew he was baiting her, but he didn’t give a shit. He did it to remind her it wasn’t going to be so easy to shut him out, and given the choice, he’d rather deal with a temperamental Katie than a tearful one—those tears just shredded him—so he’d court her temper if that’s what it took to buck her up.

  By the pinch of her brows, he knew it was working. He gave her a lopsided grin that was sure to melt some of the ice she’d no doubt been walling around her heart for the last two hours. She exhaled a disgusted sigh and let go of her towel to brace her hand against the doorframe, and held out her other to help him up.

  “Come on, get up.”

  “If you’re going to keep standing here, I’d rather stay on the floor.” He slipped his hands behind her legs, sliding them up the back of her thighs, and tugged her closer.

  “Cole, what are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you.”

  “Why?” Her tone was soft with exaggerated patience.

  He met and held her emerald stare. “Because you’re worth the wait.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes, pooling on her lower lashes. One broke loose and landed on his arm. The hot moisture made his chest constrict, his heart ached with an emotion he dare not name.

  “You’re wasting your time, Cole.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. I know what you’re doing, Kat, and I’m not going to let you.” His grip on her legs tightened, his thumb skimming the inside of her thigh.

  Her breath hitched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied. “Let me do what?”

  “Push me away. Pretend that this isn’t happening.”

  “That’s because it isn’t.”

  “Oh, it’s happening.” He slid his hands up beneath her towel to cup the firm globes of her ass. She gasped in surpris
e and locked the arm braced above his head, preventing him from pulling her closer. He wouldn’t muscle her to get his way, though he could easily enough pull her to him, nor would he sit here and let her pretend she didn’t want him just as badly as he wanted her. “For weeks I’ve been avoiding it—avoiding you. Pretending this isn’t real, that I can control it. Well I’m done fighting, Kat. I can’t do it anymore, not knowing how amazing you feel in my arms, how delicious you taste on my tongue—”

  “It can’t happen.” She shook her head in denial. Was she trying to convince him or herself? “I can’t. I was stupid to think it would change anything.”

  Okay, now he was getting pissed. Letting go of her, he shoved himself to his feet and glared down at her. “What are you talking about? What happened in there”—he pointed to his bedroom—“it changes everything. You’re not a victim anymore, Kat. You need to stop seeing yourself as one, and I refuse to treat you like one.” She flinched as if he’d struck her, which landed a solid blow to his gut. He didn’t want to hurt her, but dammit, sometimes you had to reopen a wound to give it a chance to heal properly. He should know—been there, done that. “Carter has no control over you. Sure, he’s being a pain in the ass and is doing his damn best to scare you, but I won’t let him hurt you. This can’t last forever.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Cole. It’s not going to stop. He’s not going to stop!”

  “Oh, he’s going to stop. I promise you that.”

  “The police can’t do any more than they’re already doing. We have no proof it was even him who came here tonight, though we both know it was. I know how this works. I’ve been through it before.”

  Cole reached up, taking her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. Locking his eyes with hers, he vowed, “Kat, you’re safe with me. I promise Carter will never hurt you again. One way or another, this will end.”

  She wanted to believe him, but he didn’t know Carter like she did. It’d do no good to stand here and try to argue that point with him, so she acquiesced, nodding her head in abject agreement. “It’s late and I’m getting cold. I’d like to get dressed and go to bed.”

  He seemed reluctant to let her go, though he could hardly refuse her request. Tipping her head closer, Cole bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Good night, Kat. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

  Stepping out of his embrace, Katie headed for her bedroom, stopping at the doorway and turning to cast Cole a regretful glance. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned the night ending. Carter’s interruption had effectively killed any hopes she had of putting her past behind her. As much as she hated to admit it, it was probably better this way. Better that Cole not get any more involved than he already was with her fucked-up life.

  He watched her from the hall, remaining silent, though she sensed it was eating at him to do so. Cole was a fighter through and through, and when he found something he wanted, he wasn’t apt to just let it go. She could see the determination shining in his vibrant stare.

  She’d crossed the line with him tonight, changed the dynamics of their relationship the moment she’d submitted her body to this awe-inspiring man. It was just semantics that he hadn’t fully claimed it. The intention was there all the same. She’d thought she could do it—convinced herself that somehow giving herself to Cole would right the wrongs done to her—heal her brokenness, but she was wrong. She could see that now. It wasn’t fair to put that kind of responsibility on him. Unable to hold his stare another moment for fear of breaking down, Katie looked away and entered her room, murmuring, “Good night, Cole.”

  Katie startled awake at the god-awful grinding sound coming from the kitchen. So much for I’m not much of a morning person. Who ran a blender at six a.m. on a Saturday morning? Stuffing a pillow over her face, she tried to drown out the noise. Big surprise, she hadn’t slept for shit last night. When she wasn’t jumping at every little noise, she was running a mental replay of being in Cole’s bed. Either way, it equaled one sleepless night and one cranky Katie. In the still, early morning hours, she’d allowed her imagination to finish where Cole had left off—when they’d been so rudely interrupted. It didn’t matter that she’d drawn a new boundary with him. In the privacy of her own mind, where anything goes, he’d taken her to Heaven.

  Just thinking about it now made her pulse beat a little harder, throbbing in all the sensitive places Cole had explored. Her breaths quickened. She couldn’t breathe with this pillow over her face. Snatching it off her head, she hurled it across the room. It landed against the wall with a soft thud, sending a poof of feathers puffing into the air.

  Great. She’d just ripped a hole in her grandmother’s feather pillow. Exhaling a sigh, Katie tossed back her covers and stomped around her bedroom as she got dressed, because, yeah, that was certainly going to help things. She would have preferred to stay in her pajamas, but after last night, she decided it wouldn’t be very appropriate.

  After pulling on a pair of black flare-leg yoga pants, she grabbed one of her stretched-out, ratty college sweaters and put it on over her tank top. Katie paused at the mirror above her dresser to get a quick look before heading out to face Cole, and was glad she did when she caught a glimpse of her hair. Good Lord, she looked like she’d been rode hard and put away wet—and no, the irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d gone to bed with damp hair, and it had dried in an absolute mess. Snatching her brush off the counter, she raked it through her knotted tresses and then pulled her hair back in a severe, messy bun knotted on top of her head. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but at least now she looked like controlled chaos.

  She turned her head to the side for a quick back view and gasped. Stepping closer to the mirror, she leaned forward and pulled the skin on her neck taut for a better inspection. Oh Lord, there were two bright reddish-purple hickeys on her neck. Her cheeks instantly heated at the sight of them, whether from embarrassment, because the last time she had a hickey she was sixteen years old, or from the memory of getting them, she didn’t know—probably both. But seeing Cole’s mark on her flesh felt strangely intimate and arousingly possessive. For a moment she wondered where else she might have similar marks upon her body, but refrained from searching out the answer. She was better off not knowing, she decided, tearing her gaze away from the mirror.

  The blender finally stopped. Katie opened her bedroom door and walked into the living room, intending to give Cole a piece of her mind. She made it as far as the couch when her feet suddenly refused to move, her ass-chewing lodging in her throat. Cole was standing at the kitchen sink, chugging what appeared to be a yellow smoothie. Apparently, he hadn’t given as much thought to his state of dress—or undress—as she had, because he was standing there in nothing but a white skin-tight pair of Under Armour gym shorts. The wide black waistband sat low on his waist, the stretchy neoprene hugging every inch of those solid, muscular thighs. They left no detail untouched. Even at rest Cole was a man of impressive length. The outline of his sizable asset arched to the left and pointed down his thigh.

  She might have made a noise, a gasp, or a startled squeak, she couldn’t tell over the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Cole lowered his glass and turned his head as if just now realizing she was there. The seconds it took her to drag her eyes from his crotch were precious moments lost. By the time she dragged them past his abs and chest to reach his face, he was wearing a crooked grin that hovered between boyishly handsome and cocky male arrogance. Either way, the woman in her responded to him. The moisture dampening her black lace panties made her feel like Pavlov’s dog, which did absolutely zero to improve her mood.

  “Hey, Kat, you’re up.” He sounded surprised.

  “Of course I’m up,” she crabbed, forcing one foot in front of the other to enter the kitchen. “Who can sleep with that blender roaring away out here?”

  He gave her a sheepish grin.

  “And where’s your crutch?”

  “Not using it,” he replied, sound
ing a bit like a defiant child. Turning back toward the sink, he rinsed out the remnants of his smoothie. “I’m sick of gimping around on it. The only way my leg is going to get stronger is with use.”

  Spoken like a true pig-headed athlete.

  “I made you a smoothie.” He grabbed the yellow drink off the counter, and turned to fully face her.

  Katie gasped at the up-close sight of him, more specifically at the smattering of red marks on his neck. There was one on his pec, and Lord help her, even one in that sexy indent of flesh near his hip, just above his waistband. He’d been angled away from her at the sink, but now as he faced her full-on, she was forced to acknowledge, if only to herself, what she’d done to this magnificent body standing before her.

  He said nothing about it, but she noticed his gaze briefly travel over her own neck as he handed her the glass.

  “What’s in it?” she asked, taking the glass from him, eyeing it skeptically.

  “Butternut squash, mango, protein powder.” He shrugged. “Lots of good stuff.”

  Katie lifted the glass to her nose and sniffed. “You know I don’t eat breakfast.”

  Cole gave her a roguish grin. “Well, today you do. Go on, taste it.”

  She hesitantly took a sip.

  “You’re going to need your energy for what I’ve got planned for you.”

  Katie gasped at his comment and immediately started coughing, choking on her smoothie. Cole patted her back, chuckling. The deep timbre rumbling in his chest was like sex to her ears. “Cole, I don’t think—”