Convincing Leah (Surrender Book 9)

by Becca Jameson

  I’m going to have to broach his subject later. She’s exhausted right now. She’s in subdrop. I’m going to hold her for a while and then help her get dressed and get her home. My home. I won’t take no for an answer.

  Chapter 5

  Leah

  I groan as I slowly come awake. Why do I feel hungover? I know I wasn’t drinking last night. I was at the club. I did an intense scene with Craig. We had sex.

  Oh, God… We did more than have sex.

  The intimate memory floods my mind a moment before I inhale and realize the scent filling my nose is not from my own pillow. It’s too soft; so are the sheets. I bolt to sitting at the same time my eyes pop open wide.

  I gasp as I take in my surroundings, wincing as my ass shifts against the bed. There’s no need to panic. I remember now. I’m at Craig’s house. I’m in his bed. I glance down and see that I’m wearing one of his T-shirts. It’s huge on me.

  Another sharp inhale as the door to the room opens, and Craig strolls in. He smiles as he comes toward me and then perches on the edge of the bed.

  I’m still panting from the confusion.

  He sets a hand on my thigh on top of the covers, his brow furrowing. “You okay?”

  I rub a hand down my face. “I don’t remember much,” I murmur.

  His hand comes to my cheek. “You were in deep subdrop, sweetheart. Or maybe you were just so tired that you couldn’t wake up. We left your car at Surrender, and I brought you home with me.”

  I clear my throat. “You changed my clothes.”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve seen you naked before. I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in your street clothes. Eve helped you change back into your jeans, but you were so out of it still. You slept curled up in the back seat of my SUV all the way home. I carried you in here like dead weight. I have to admit I was kind of scared. Has this ever happened before?”

  I shake my head. “Never.” But I’ve never participated in any scene that was as intense as the one we did last night. I’m not sure why I would pass out like that though. I remember him fucking me on the bench after the best spanking of my life. I remember being held in his arms afterward…

  I glance at Craig, wincing.

  He’s still frowning. I’ve made him nervous.

  There was more. I was so aroused that I couldn’t shake the need, so I reached between my legs, intent on easing the ache, but Craig held my hands away and got me off himself. And then… Lord, I slid between his legs and gave him a blowjob.

  Why should any of that embarrass me? It doesn’t. Not really. What’s disconcerting is that the rest is hazy.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone spiked your drink, but I was with you the entire time. No one could have drugged you. I even shared the same bottle of water as you.”

  “Weird.” Very.

  “Roman looked you over too. So did Colton. Finally, we agreed I would bring you home with me. Please don’t be mad. Nothing happened. I put you in my shirt and tucked you into my bed. I slept on top of the covers next to you just in case you woke up scared. You never moved.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Eleven.” He still looks concerned.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” It’s stressing me out though.

  “No reason to be sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mind bringing you home with me.” He shrugs. “In fact, I was trying to figure out a way to talk you into it before the option was out of your hands.”

  I drop down onto my back and roll to my side, curling up under the covers. “I seriously feel hungover.”

  He sets his hand on my forehead. “Do you have a headache?”

  “No. I’m just exhausted.” I close my eyes and slide deeper under the blankets. I’m more embarrassed than anything. Why would I have such a strange subdrop?

  “You need to eat something, Leah. More importantly, you need to get some fluids in you. Do you like orange juice?”

  “Yeah,” I tell the covers.

  He pats my thigh. “Let’s start with that. Be right back.”

  Good grief. I can’t have the man waiting on me hand and foot. I’m not an invalid. As soon as he leaves the room, I force myself to sit up. Since the room doesn’t spin and I don’t feel dizzy, I slide out of bed. Wincing slightly with the added pressure on my sore ass, I head for his bathroom.

  I have no recollection of the rest of his house, but his master bedroom and bathroom are very masculine and attractive. Mahogany dresser, bedside tables, and king-sized bed. Navy sheets and comforter. Plenty of pillows.

  The bathroom is painted navy with navy towels and bath mats. Everything looks brand-new from the recent renovations. I know he remodeled the entire house. I use the toilet and then wash my hands and splash water on my face before noticing he’s left me a new toothbrush on the counter. How thoughtful. I find his toothpaste, and five minutes later I feel much better.

  When I open the door, Craig is coming into the room with a tray of juice and toast. He smiles at me. “Ah. You rose from the dead. Feel better?”

  “Yes. Thank you. And thanks for the toothbrush. That was thoughtful.”

  “Would you like to get back into bed and get something in you? Or we could move to the kitchen. If you’re feeling up to it, I could make you some eggs.”

  I feel awkward. I’m in strange territory here. I don’t do sleepovers. I haven’t had any kind of serious relationship for many years. I’ve had sex with men occasionally, but only at the club, and it’s been a while. I don’t go home with men. I don’t bring them home with me.

  Craig nods over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

  I glance down at myself, feeling decidedly naked. I’m not. I have on his enormous T-shirt that reaches mid-thigh, and my panties. But he’s fully clothed in jeans and a designer T-shirt. His feet are bare though, which makes me lick my lips for some reason. He has nice feet. Their bareness makes him seem casual.

  I take a breath as he leads me down the hallway and into the great room. His home is modern and fresh. The back of the house has a wall of windows. The living room and kitchen area have dark hardwood floors. He has an enormous sectional in deep brown leather that faces a fireplace and a flat-screen TV.

  I notice he doesn’t have many personal touches. Very few pictures of people. It looks like a decorator came in and set it up like a display home. “Is your house for sale?” I ask.

  His brows narrow as he sets my juice and toast on the table and pulls out a chair. “No. What makes you think that?”

  I flush as I sit, letting him push me in. “It’s pristine, as if you’re going to show it this afternoon.”

  He chuckles. “No. Not selling my house. There are a number of reasons why it’s overly tidy today.” He pads to the fridge and opens it. “How do you like your eggs?”

  “Scrambled, but you don’t have to do that. I’m fine with toast.” My stomach chooses that moment to grumble.

  “Scrambled it is,” he says, ignoring my protest. “Bacon?”

  “Sure,” I murmur, resigned.

  “Anyway,” he continues. “These were the last two rooms I remodeled. Also, my cleaning crew came yesterday. And lastly, I spent twenty-five years in the Army, so I’m a bit OCD.”

  “Ah. That makes sense.” I down the juice, realizing I was very thirsty.

  “Coffee?”

  “No thank you. I’m not a coffee drinker.”

  “Tea?”

  I watch him as he starts the burner. “That would be great if you have it.”

  “I have several kinds. Herbal or regular? You want to come pick one out?” He opens the pantry and fans his hand out in the direction of a selection of teas.

  I slide off the chair and head toward him. As I peruse the boxes of tea, he gently wraps his arms around me from behind and flattens his front to my back. His lips come to my neck, his beard tickling me. “I’m glad you’re here. Please relax.”

  I’m anything but relaxed. “I’m not used to…well, any of th
is.”

  “Be specific, sweetheart. What has your feathers ruffled?”

  “I don’t sleep over with men. I’m not wearing enough clothes. I’m not used to being waited on. And I’m concerned about what happened last night.” I tip my head back to look at him. “Did you want a list?”

  He smiles. “Yes. Thank you.”

  I choose an herbal tea, but he doesn’t release me yet. We’re halfway inside his pantry and his warm breath on my neck is bringing goosebumps to my skin. “I’m glad you don’t sleep over with many men. I think you have on plenty of clothes. I enjoy waiting on you, so get used to it. And I think you slid into a deeper subdrop because you had two intense orgasms in a row that probably rattled you.”

  “Do you have an answer for everything?”

  “Usually.”

  “Are you going to let me go?” It’s so weird having him hold me like this. Not bad exactly, just awkward.

  “Only because I need to cook for you.” He finally releases me, but then he spins me around and lifts me off the ground by the hips.

  I squeak as he turns and sets me on the granite countertop on the island. “Craig…” The elastic of my panties pinches my sore butt, making me shift my weight.

  I must be making a face too because Craig smiles. “Is your bottom sore?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I’m sure it will be eventually, but is it sore this morning?” He gives me a no-nonsense, pointed look.

  “A little,” I admit. Lying to him doesn’t seem like it’s worth it.

  “I’ll look at it after breakfast. Put some ointment on it.”

  I cringe. “You don’t have to. I’m sure it’s fine.”

  He steps close and lifts my chin with two fingers. “It’s going to be a lot less fine if you don’t stop arguing with me, sweetheart.”

  I push at his chest. “Okay. Okay. Why exactly am I sitting on your counter?”

  He takes the box of tea from me. “I decided I want you closer. Don’t move.” He sets a hand on my thigh, hesitating as if worried I might fall.

  “I’m fine,” I repeat for the millionth time. “Whatever it was, it passed. I’m not woozy anymore.”

  “Good. Still, don’t move,” he orders.

  I shudder as he turns around and pulls a mug from the cabinet. His ass is amazing in the perfect-fitting jeans he’s wearing. His broad shoulders stretch his T-shirt.

  He’s bossy. It’s unnerving. We’re not at the club. This isn’t a scene.

  He fills my mug with hot water from a special spout in the sink and then drapes the tea bag over the edge. He doesn’t hand it to me though. He sets it aside. “It needs to cool a minute.”

  “Craig…”

  He lifts a few slices of bacon from the package and lays them in the hot pan, filling the room with the sound of sizzling before looking at me. “What?”

  “I’m not a baby. And I’m not a little,” I remind him.

  He comes to me, closing the short distance before setting his hands on the counter on both sides of me. “I know. I have Daddy tendencies that leak out. I can’t help it. I suspect you’re extremely independent, and you don’t have to be. It’s okay to let someone help you out now and then, Leah. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I’m just cooking breakfast for a guest in my home. It would be weird to just abandon you in my kitchen to fend for yourself. It would also be rude. I’m a pretty good host.”

  “Okay, but you don’t have to blow on my tea.” I smile at him, pointing out how he went overboard.

  He chuckles before surprising me with a kiss. It’s brief, but it makes my entire body pay attention. My lips tingle as he spins around to grab my mug.

  “Thank you,” I whisper as he hands me the steaming tea.

  “You’re welcome.” He returns to the pan and I watch as he makes me breakfast. While the eggs cook, he breaks off a piece of bacon and holds it to my lips.

  It’s delicious. Now I’m starving. “Are you going to feed me too?” I joke.

  He turns his head and lifts a brow. “Sweetheart, I would enjoy nothing more. If you weren’t so defensive and feisty, I would do exactly that.”

  I shiver at the thought of him lifting the fork to my mouth for each bite. I don’t remember anyone ever feeding me. Obviously, my mother must have when I was small, but by the time I could drag a chair over to the counter, I was in charge of the kitchen. I fed her. Hundreds of times.

  Craig fills a plate, piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and a fresh piece of toast. He lifts me off the counter and sets me on the floor before grabbing my plate and heading for the table. After setting the plate down, he pushes my chair in again and then dramatically lifts my fork up and hands it to me. “Since you insist on being uber independent, here’s a fork, madam. It’s even adult-sized.”

  I chuckle as I take it from him, but inside I’m thinking he was only marginally teasing. He would rather feed me himself. I consider handing it back to him and making him feed me just to be a brat.

  But I’m not a brat. Not the fetish variety or in real life. I haven’t been bratty since I was five. I didn’t have that luxury.

  Craig grabs my tea from the island and then sits next to me. “I’m glad you’re here, Leah, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.”

  I swallow my bite. “Well, I appreciate you looking after me. Apparently, I was out of it.”

  He slides closer and tucks a lock of curls behind my ear. “I was responsible for you, sweetheart. I was the Dom doing a scene with you, remember? Do you honestly think I would walk away and leave you to fend for yourself? You couldn’t have even driven your car.”

  “Well, thank you.” I need to finish eating and get out of here before things get even weirder between us.

  “Do you remember what happened last night?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Most of it until I apparently passed out on you.”

  He stares at me a moment, his lips parting as if he’s going to say something, but then he changes his mind and closes his mouth. Part of me wants to ask what he was going to say, but I’m afraid I don’t want to know, so I pretend I didn’t notice.

  “You’re two seconds from making nine excuses about why you need to go home, aren’t you?” he asks.

  I set my fork down because I’m finished eating. I feel much better now. “Yes.”

  “Spend the day with me.”

  “I have to work. I’m behind on my deadlines.”

  He sighs. “You had a crazy night. Why not take today off?”

  “I’m not really the sort of person who takes time off.”

  He chuckles. “I’m kind of the opposite lately. All my days are days off.”

  I know he retired from the Army, but I’m not sure what he’s done since then. Besides remodel his home. Maybe he’s living off his pension. He’s kind of young to be spending the rest of his life idle. I glance around his perfect home. He’d probably faint if he saw mine, especially my office. I’m not a tidy author. My desk, a side table, and half the floor are covered with notes and printouts from research.

  “Stay for a while,” he says. His voice is controlled. Not quite bossy this time. I imagine it’s hard for him to tone down his dominance.

  “Okay,” I agree before I can talk myself out of it. “But only for a few hours.”

  He smiles. “Good.” He stands, taking my plate and mug and fork.

  “You’re doing it again,” I tell him as I get up from the chair.

  He chuckles. “Seriously, Leah, I’m just being polite. Chill. I wouldn’t send any guest to load my dishwasher. Do you?”

  “Well, no, but with you, it feels overpowering.” I wander into his living room and absorb his knickknacks and artwork. What little there is. “There’s nothing personal in your home,” I point out.

  He follows me after finishing in the kitchen, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around me again. He likes this position. I can’t complain. It’s comforting. It’s like he takes some of the weight I carry off my sho
ulders. But I worry it means something more to him. Something I can’t give him.

  “I got divorced five years ago. My ex-wife took everything personal and even the things that weren’t personal. I didn’t care. I still had three more years in the Army. There wasn’t much I could do to change things.”

  “Why did she leave?” I tip my head back. “You don’t have to answer that.”

  He holds me tighter. “Nope. I don’t mind. I was never home. She was a little without a Daddy. She wanted someone to nurture her, and I couldn’t be there. I didn’t blame her.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “Yeah, it was, but looking back, we probably weren’t right for each other. She found someone who gives her exactly what she needs, and I’m happy for her.”

  “So, you’ve been retired for two years. What do you do?” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. They sounded accusatory.

  He laughs, his beard rubbing my neck again, causing me to shiver. He releases me, but then takes my hand and tugs me toward the sectional where he pulls me down next to him and then turns his body sideways so he’s facing me.

  I’m in the corner, so I curl my legs under me and tug his T-shirt over my thighs, forcing myself not to acknowledge my renewed reminder that my butt is sore. Usually, I luxuriate in the morning-after sensation, but I’m not in the mood for Craig to pay special attention to my ass. I’m not used to someone hovering like he is.

  “This house needed a lot of work, so I spent most of my time renovating it. I finally have it the way I want it. Also, my mother died right before I retired. She left me a sizable inheritance. I used some of it for the renovations. I have my pension too. If I were to budget myself well, I could live comfortably the rest of my life without working.”

  “Wow. You’re only forty-five.”

  He smiles. “I didn’t say I would do that, just that I could. I can’t stand to be idle. I need to be doing something. The renovations were time-consuming, so I didn’t look for anything else. It was a learning curve. But now, I’m getting antsy. I’ll find something I enjoy soon to fill my days. Might even buy a fixer-upper and do another round of renovations. I enjoyed it. Working with my hands. It was very satisfying.”