Surrender (Harris Brothers Book 4)

by Amy Daws

  She barks out a laugh. “It’s not, but we can definitely make it an annual thing.” When she realises what she just said, her face falls and she claps her hands over her mouth. “Not that we’ll be doing this every year. I just mean…Freaking hell. I’m not saying that. Of course this isn’t going to be a yearly thing. Good God, I should leave right this second.”

  Desperate for an escape, she turns on her heel and swings the door open. In a quick move, I step forward and wrap my hand around her stomach, stopping her momentum and pulling her back against my body. She’s practically heaving with embarrassment as my other hand pushes the door closed.

  “I’m such a puke,” she groans and covers her face.

  “You’re not a puke,” I chuckle, pressing my lips to her hair. “Turkey and sex sounds perfect.”

  She relaxes into my embrace and tilts her head back, revealing her bare neck. Her sweet scent rolls over my body. I have to fight the urge to turn her around, strip her naked, and fuck her against the door right this second.

  Instead, I slip one hand into my pocket, grab my keys, and hold them in front of her. “I have practice until five and I assume turkey takes a while to cook.” I slide the key off the ring and hold it out. I say against her hair, “Front door key…for your convenience.”

  “Thanks,” she husks like we just had thirty minutes of foreplay and she’s ready to come. She wraps her fingers around the key and nearly moans her next words. “I’d really love for you to kiss my neck, Gareth.”

  My body roars to life from the gentle command. I push her hair back with my nose and lightly brush my lips beneath her ear. My tongue slips out and draws a line up to her earlobe. When I pull the tender flesh between my lips, she sags against me, rolling her body in my arms and grinding her supple arse on my groin.

  Just when I think she’s going to give me round three, she pulls away and opens the door, leaving on wobbly feet. I watch her, regret and yearning stronger than I’ve ever felt coursing through my veins.

  I watch her car drive away, then close the door, realising with a nervous thud of my heart that I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

  “YOU ARE WHAT?” FREYA PEALS as she follows me to the foyer.

  I bend down to grab my brown ankle boots up off the floor. “I said I’m going to be spending the night at Gareth Harris’ house tonight, so I won’t be home until tomorrow.”

  “I need to sit down.” Freya drops down on the staircase and cradles her head in her hands. “You haven’t told me a word since we made that suit for him, and I’ve been cheated some very delicious details.”

  “Freya, you knew something was happening between us.” I slip my feet into my shoes and slide the inside zippers up, my eyes narrowing on her. “You even encouraged it!”

  “I know! But to be spending the night with him must mean it is getting serious!” She looks up at me with wide, hopeful eyes.

  “It’s not getting serious,” I correct.

  “You’ve been out every night this week,” she states like it’s a confirmation that what I’m saying isn’t true.

  “That doesn’t mean it’s getting serious,” I scoff. Yes, I’ve been back out to Gareth’s. Yes, I rode him reverse cowgirl when we fucked in his media room last night during reruns of Shameless. That doesn’t mean anything has changed. I’m just insatiable. I’m in the middle of a sexual awakening I didn’t even know I needed, and I can’t seem to stay away. And I’ll be blowing him off for another week straight when Sophia comes home, so I’m trying to get it while I can.

  “So, why are you spending the night?”

  “Because we’re having sex.”

  It’s as if I electrocuted her. “You’re finally shagging him?”

  I want to laugh at her innocence. If she knew the full truth, she’d probably pass out from shock. “Yes, Frey. You didn’t assume?”

  “Well, I don’t know. You said he held out on you that one time you wore the skimpy knickers, so I thought maybe he was impotent or something.”

  “No,” I groan. “We’re sleeping together, but it’s just a friends with benefits thing.” I shrug. The description doesn’t do it justice, but it’s the best I can do.

  Her face crumples. “Friends with benefits is something kids in Uni do. Not nearly thirty-something-year-olds with children.”

  “Gareth doesn’t have children.”

  “You do!”

  “Only for fifty percent of my life!” I exclaim, my hands fisting at my sides. The notion of missing part of Sophia’s life every other week still makes me crazy. I don’t need it shoved in my face. “You are the one who wanted me to do something with my time when Sophia is with Callum.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think it meant friends with benefits and putting yourself at risk of having your heart broken. Sloan, Gareth Harris is like a steel vault. Even the media can’t get a personal detail out of him.”

  “What do you mean? I thought he is only private about the women he dates?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s so much more than that. His dad used to play for Man U, and if the media ask a question about him, Gareth shuts down the interview straight away. On top of that, he’s never seen with mates. Only his family. Now you’re telling me that you’ve been sleeping with him on a regular basis. I just think that has to mean something.” Her green eyes are intense on me.

  “It doesn’t,” I reply sharply and ignore the pit in my belly that forms over the fact that Gareth has opened up to me about his dad. Feeling anxious, I move to sit beside Freya on the steps and try to explain this in a way that won’t freak either of us out completely. “What Gareth and I are doing is so different from traditional. He even held off in the beginning to ensure that our lines didn’t get blurred. I’m totally detached and living in the moment.”

  “In the moment,” Freya tuts, clearly disbelieving.

  “It’s just sex.”

  “It’s just sex.”

  I pull one leg up to my chest and turn to face her. “Stop repeating what I’m saying and trust me when I tell you that this is the perfect arrangement. More importantly, it’s the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  Her eyes fly wide with excitement. “Well, it’s no wonder. You’re shagging England’s sexiest footballer, Sloan. Do you have any idea how many women would kill to take your place?”

  This makes me frown. “I try not to think about the fact that Gareth is an athlete. He always just felt like more of a client to me. Now he’s just…Gareth.”

  Freya erupts into laughter, holding her belly as the fit overtakes her body. “And Tom Hardy is just Tom Hardy!”

  I sigh heavily and roll my eyes at her hysterics. “I know he’s famous, but we’re different people when we’re together.”

  She wipes an errant tear from her eye and asks, “How do you mean?”

  My lips thin as I ponder her question. I know why I love our arrangement, but I’m not one hundred percent sure why Gareth loves to give up the control. He’s given me some ideas, but it seems deeper than his daddy issues. “I don’t know exactly, but it’s like we’re both working through a problem and what we do with each other helps us deal.”

  Freya leans in and cups her mouth to whisper, “Is it kinky? Does he have a sex dungeon?”

  “No,” I groan and pick at my black tights, my mind drifting off to the sense of empowerment I get when I’m with him. “It’s above all that. It’s like Gareth’s home has become my refuge from life. When I go there, it’s like shutting off the WiFi and not allowing myself to scroll Instagram. I don’t worry about what Sophia is doing or how much she’s changing. And Gareth doesn’t know me or my life, so I get to be a different person when I’m with him. Someone who is strong, and brave, and sexy, and desired.”

  Freya’s eyes are fierce on mine. “So he doesn’t know about Sophia?”

  “No,” I answer, swallowing slowly. After he opened up about his father the other night, I started feeling guilty about this significant part of my life that I’ve yet to mentio
n. “He knows I’m divorced, but that’s pretty much it. I feel like I need to keep it that way. So much of my identity the past few years has revolved around Sophia. The weeks I spend with Gareth are a chance for me to reclaim the person I lost when I stayed married to Cal for so long. I need this fourth wall to feel like I can keep doing this arrangement we have.”

  “Wow.” Freya looks forward, her head shaking back and forth in amazement. “I’m here binge-watching Netflix, and you’re out there having mind-blowing sex and really living life.”

  “I’m trying.” I shrug because that’s all I can do at this point.

  “What does he think you’re doing when you have Sophia?”

  “Well, it’s new, so I’m just going to keep telling him I’m travelling for work or too busy to drive out there. So far he hasn’t noticed because I more than make up for it when I’m free.” I shoot her a lascivious smile and she covers her mouth with a snicker.

  “This is properly more exciting than Zumba!” She giggles.

  I give her a huge grin and reply, “That is an understatement.”

  “Well, you’re a tart! And I’m positively green with jealousy, so don’t take it personal when I hate you for the rest of our lives.”

  I smile broadly. “I love you.”

  She nudges me with her shoulder. “Mean it.”

  My drive out to Astbury has become one of my favourite pasttimes. It’s the one hour I need every day to meditate, self-reflect, and prepare myself to let go of my stress and embrace this new, stronger version of myself. It’s also a great time to fantasise about all the things I want to do with Gareth.

  Like experimenting with hot wax!

  Along with all the groceries I bought for Thanksgiving, I included a couple of candles to help set the mood for our meal and my plans for after dinner. I am practically panting from the anticipation of drizzling hot wax over Gareth’s ridiculously amazing body. I tested it out on myself last night, and the heat it stirred inside of me made it nearly impossible to stay away for twenty-four hours.

  My how far I’ve come.

  When Gareth first proposed this control idea, I took to the internet for information and was really intimidated by what I found. True BDSM is intense and a big commitment. I knew I couldn’t do the majority of what I saw. But when we spent the night texting back and forth, he assured me that it wasn’t whips and chains he was looking for. He didn’t want me to turn him into a sex slave or have us join some underground club where people in this lifestyle go for pleasure. It was a simple power exchange that he sought. He didn’t want to be in charge of my pleasure. He wanted to be the answer for it.

  Most of our nights together thus far have simply been me directing the scene. Telling him I need to sit on his face. Or telling him he can’t touch me with his hands, only his lips. Sometimes it’s me shoving him down on the bed and climbing on top of him just to see his eyes flash wide with lust and awe. When I’m confident, he looks at me with complete reverence. It’s a glorious stamp of approval I didn’t even know I was missing in my life.

  Callum was always one to thrive on his control. On his power. His wealth. He prided himself on all the things Gareth seems to ignore in his life.

  I mean, I’m not blind. I know Gareth hasn’t surrendered all of his power. He manages to find a way to top from the bottom quite often, but it always starts with my control. My planning. My set-up. My terms. And our time together is completely at my discretion.

  There’s a whole new level of anxiety over actually spending a full night with him, though. At first, I regretted agreeing to it. What if Sophia got sick in the middle of the night and Cal called me to come? How awful would it be if I couldn’t get to her in an instant?

  Logically, I know that’s my anxiety talking. She’s not a sick baby anymore. She’s become a healthy little human before my very eyes. Just last week when I took her to the dentist, I couldn’t believe how big she looked in the exam chair. At some point, when I wasn’t noticing, she stopped being a toddler. And every time she comes back to me after a week of being with Cal, I swear she’s grown taller and more mature.

  I need to recognise that, and spending time with Gareth has helped me find some new perspective. I’m a divorced woman who is co-parenting with her ex. It isn’t a death sentence. It’s actually quite liberating. I get to live a double life, and I get to reclaim the sense of individuality that Callum siphoned from me during our marriage.

  Now I find myself in a place with Gareth where I want to be bold. I want to be surprising. Hell, I want to bring a little kink into our lives! Candle wax and all.

  I pull into Gareth’s driveway and type in the code to his gate. He’s still at practice, but he said I could come over whenever I needed to today since the turkey will take a few hours to cook.

  When I finish hauling the groceries inside, I marvel over how only a year ago I was lusting after this house and imagining what it would be like to live in it. Now I’m cooking a freaking Thanksgiving dinner in the kitchen and I’ve been naked in nearly every room. Life can really be surprising sometimes.

  When I step through the front door of my house eager to lay eyes on Sloan, my nose is instantly assaulted with the pungent scent of burnt flesh. I drop my football kit on the floor as a foggy cloud of smoke billows out the door behind me, surprised my smoke alarm isn’t going off yet. Waving my hand in front of my face, I quickly make my way to the kitchen where the source of the smoke seems to be coming from.

  My eyes instantly land on Sloan’s backside. She’s hunched over the kitchen island wearing nothing but a tiny string bikini. I have to fight the urge to ogle her body because, from the looks of her, she’s not in a good state. Her head is bowed, hands covering her face, shoulders shaking. I look to the left and see a charred turkey in a large roasting pan sitting on the counter. It’s black. Really black. The legs have fallen off the sides and the heat wafting from it looks practically toxic.

  “Hiya?” I state like a question because I’m terrified of the emotional scene I’ve just walked in to.

  Sloan’s head snaps up. She sniffs in a deep breath and wipes away tears as she turns to face me. “Oh my God, you’re home already?” she groans and awkwardly crosses her arms over her stomach.

  “Yes…Sorry,” I reply slowly, then tilt my head. “Are you crying?”

  “No!” she bellows defensively. “Yes!”

  “Tre,” I coo and move straight to her, my arms reaching out and pulling her against my body. “What’s the matter?”

  “Are you joking?” she mumbles with a garbled hiccup as she hides her face in my chest. She pulls back and gestures to the turkey. “I freaking ruined it.”

  I pull my lips into my mouth to conceal my smile. “What happened?”

  She looks up at me with wide, watery eyes. “I thought I could go for a swim while the turkey cooked because the package said it would take two hours. But I must have screwed up the temperature on the oven because as soon as I finished my swim and stepped out of the pool room, I could smell something burning.”

  “Bugger,” I murmur and hold her head against my chest. “It sucks, but it’s not a big deal.”

  “It is too!” she snaps, pulling out of my arms and swiping at her cheeks. “I had plans, Gareth! I worked so hard on a fancy herb rub I found on Pinterest. It took me an hour to dress that damn bird. Now the one thing I was most excited about for today is ruined.”

  “So we’ll go out to eat,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

  She blinks a few times, her pouty lip so damn sexy, I’m finding it really hard to be sympathetic. “But…I mean, is that okay? We don’t do dinner dates. And, I mean, can you just go out in public like that? Aren’t you famous or something?”

  I brush the comment off. “There’s a pub that does a great fish and chips, and it’s local so no one ever bothers me.”

  She nods and swallows. “I suppose that works. God, I’m such an idiot.”

  “No you’re not.” I reach out and grab her han
d. “Now, command me to take these tears away.” The playful waggle of my brows brings a small smile to her face.

  She looks through the doorway and replies, “Come swim with me. It’s the only room in the house that doesn’t stink.”

  The corners of my mouth pull back into a smile. “With pleasure, Treacle.”

  Sloan leads me into the pool room and tells me to strip down to nothing for our swim. Watching her loosen the strings of her bikini and drop the tiny slips of fabric on the concrete flooring enables me to finally learn how to enjoy my pool.

  It has been mesmerising to watch Sloan embrace this control the past couple of weeks. She’s not the most composed, but there’s always a moment when that spark ignites in her eyes. The one when I know she’s finally letting go of all the baggage and stress in her life and living in the present with me. It’s fucking captivating because I feel the same. When she tells me to shag her from behind on the pool steps and begs me to pull her hair, it’s like I’m finally fucking free. She frees me of my complicated, stressful thoughts and gives me a sense of lightness I’ve never experienced in my life.

  It’s dark out by the time we hop in my car and Gareth directs me to the Horseshoe Inn in the nearby village of Congleton. We’re both ravenous and grateful to get away from the stench of burnt turkey still wafting through the house.

  When we pull up to an extremely old looking pub nestled in the English countryside, I can’t hide the smile on my face. “This place is so British, I could die.”

  It’s an adorable white, stucco building that looks more like a house than a restaurant. It has a welcoming red front door and hanging baskets and window boxes overflowing with fall flowers. It’s exactly what any English country pub should be.

  Gareth smiles back at me and hops out of the car, quickly jogging over to my door and opening it for me. “I’ve known the owners, Charles and Mary, for years. They were some of the first friends I made when I moved out here.”