Surrender (Seaside Pictures Book 4)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Her eyes brightened, and then she leaned in and pressed the softest kiss I’d ever received to the corner of my mouth and then the other, and just when I thought I was going to die on the spot from want, she pressed that pouty mouth full-on against my lips.

  I could write a hundred love songs based on that kiss.

  On this moment.

  I could break a million hearts over and over again talking about how her soft breath fanned my face, how her lips slid against mine, how her tongue darted out as if she was worried about deepening it, but then took the chance anyway and was rewarded over and over again as I dug my hands into her hair and kept her prisoner.

  I never imagined a single kiss could alter the way you saw the world, but somehow, she’d just done that.

  She’d made me want to sing.

  And I’d never in my life had a kiss that inspired me to the point of breaking.

  She pulled away too soon.

  My hand dropped from her hair and cupped her face. “We’re going to do that again.”

  Swollen pink lips tempted me beyond all reason as she ducked her head and laid it against my chest.

  I held her there, wondering what the hell I could say that would convince her that this was so much more than a few fun days together, but I didn’t want to ruin anything. I didn’t want to scare her away, and I sure as hell didn’t want to ask for more of what I knew she might not be able to give.

  “What makes you so sure?” she asked as I thumbed her lower lip; it was still wet from our kiss.

  I brought my thumb to my mouth and gave it a slow lick. “Damn,” I said softly, “I can still taste you.”

  “Fries and a margarita?” she teased, a bit breathless.

  “Nah, what I taste is all you.” I sighed and then leaned back. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that little gift you just gave me. Don’t suppose you’ll tell me so I can make sure to do it again.”

  Bronte smiled and crossed her legs. “That’s easy… you were just being you.”

  My chest tightened.

  If she knew…

  Really knew the guy I used to be.

  The guy I was trying like hell to forgive.

  She’d probably run in the other direction.

  “And then…” She tilted her head. “…you go and give me this pained expression as if being yourself isn’t enough.”

  I sighed. “Sometimes, I’m afraid it’s not. Not when being myself means carrying at least two tons of baggage I can’t seem to get rid of.”

  “Hmm, seems like you need to just stop long enough to toss it to the ground, realize it’s slowing you down, and move on.”

  “That—” I suddenly wanted to change the subject, but something about her made me want to confess. “—that’s the hard part, Bronte. People talk about baggage all the time, how heavy it is, how hard it is. It’s not the heaviness that gets me. It’s not even the annoying fact that those things are all still there because those are what made me the man I am today. The hard part is stopping. The hard part is knowing you don’t deserve to toss the bags to the ground. No, your punishment is that the minute you toss them to the ground, you realize the reason you picked them up in the first place wasn’t out of pain but from so much guilt that the heaviness is deserved. Why the fuck should I have a reward for my own shittiness?”

  Her eyes locked on mine, and she didn’t even blink. “Do you truly believe that you deserve to be punished?”

  “Yeah,” I croaked, “I do.” I stood and pulled out my wallet, tossing a few bills on the table. “And if you knew me, you would too.”

  “Don’t insult me,” she snapped. “What if that’s my thing?”

  “What?”

  “Like singing’s your thing. What if that’s mine.”

  “What?” I asked again. “What do you mean?”

  “What if my thing is that I’m really good at helping unpack.” She stood with me and reached for my hand.

  The guilt made me want to pull away.

  But her understanding smile made me cling to her in a way that was almost embarrassingly needy.

  And then I was tugging her against my chest and kissing her again, gently, thoroughly.

  “What was that for?” she whispered against my lips.

  “That was for you… being you.”

  I felt her smile across my lips.

  “All right, I was about to tell you my plans before all the kissing. Anyway, your favorite childhood memory, you remember it?”

  “Hmm, one of your concerts, Mr. Arrogant?”

  “Aw…” I pressed a palm to my chest. “…I’m touched, but no, you said horseback riding, so guess what we’re doing.” I clapped my hands together a few times while her eyes widened with excitement. “That expression right there is what I was going for. Let’s do this!”

  “We’re going riding?” She released a shrill whoop.

  I looped my arm in hers. “Yes, you can give me a thank-you kiss when we’re on the horse. And for the record, I’m terrified of one animal beyond all reason.”

  She winced. “Birds?”

  “No, that’s Demetri, the guy from AD2. Honest to God, saw him crawl into a trashcan one time to avoid one flying at least twenty feet away from him.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “He really shouldn’t live in Seaside.”

  “My favorite is when his wife leaves the windows open and puts bread crumbs on the windowsills. Last Christmas, I think he cried. He said his eyes were burning from cutting onions, but… there were tears.”

  Her burst of laughter made her stagger sideways for a couple of steps. Then she righted herself and captured me in a happy stare. “Okay, I give up. What are you afraid of?”

  “Take this to your grave, Bronte Connors, but…” I lowered my voice. “Horses, I’m petrified of horses.”

  She stopped walking. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “Oh, but we do, because they’re about to come around the corner in three, two, one…” I pointed just as a horse and its rider came around the corner. The owner gave us a cheerful wave.

  It took every masculine bone in my body to keep my feet rooted to the ground. I stiffened as the animal got closer.

  And then Bronte stood up on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear, “Conquer your fears, and I may just let you conquer me…”

  I groaned out a curse. “One horse, one rider.”

  “One horse, two riders…” She patted me on the shoulder. “You can do it. Just think of what you might get from me.”

  I narrowed my eyes down at her. “I’m gonna need specifics before I scream like a middle school girl at an Adrenaline concert because it’s getting closer, isn’t it? I can smell it. Shit, I can smell the horse. Do horses smell fear? DOES IT KNOW?”

  “Kissing…” She gave a gentle laugh. “Touching…”

  I relaxed a bit.

  “And…” Her cheeks pinked. “…remember that song from your last album that people compared to John Mayer’s Wonderland?”

  “It’s better and yes,” I said, and then my body swayed toward her. “You mean, I get to lick between those gorgeous thighs of yours?”

  “That wasn’t in the song,” she pointed out, but her breathing quickened ever so slightly, and her cheeks pinked.

  “Made a new verse in my head, artists do that. It’s a thing, promise. I also added a blow job, seven sexual positions of my choosing, ten minutes where I get to just stare at you naked, and seventeen orgasms throughout a twenty-four-hour period.”

  She gaped. “You’re insane!”

  “Scared. I’m scared. I babble when I’m scared.”

  She sighed. “Maybe. Just get on the damn horse.”

  “And then I can get on you?”

  “Do you always take the romance out of sex?”

  “Um… I’ve been celibate for three years. Don’t judge me.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  I sighed. “Did I forget to mention I blurt things out when I’m scared? No? Well, just fee
l free to put in some earplugs before I start confessing things like how I stroked myself in the shower thinking about your lips and—”

  “Drew Amhurst?” Dave, the guy I rented the horse from, got off it like he’d been born to play a cowboy.

  He stared at Bronte longer than I liked and seemed unfazed by my death glare in his direction. He wore tight Wranglers, and damn, he even had a nice ass.

  I had half a mind to shove Bronte behind me.

  “Yup, that’s me, so do we just…” I gulped. “…get on?”

  He chuckled. “I can give you a lift if you want.”

  “I’ll lift her.” Don’t touch her, you piece of shit! Killing him after I kill Ryan apparently. “You ready, B?” I felt my body sway a bit.

  “Yes!” She bounced up on her feet and then put a foot in one stirrup, threw her leg over, and grabbed the reins. “Whoa, boy…”

  “Kinda makes you wanna be a horse, don’t it?” Dave chuckled.

  “You have no idea,” I grumbled and handed him a hundred-dollar bill. “We’ll be back in two hours. Is everything in the pack?”

  He patted the pack strapped behind the horse. “All here.”

  “Cool. I’ve got my cell.”

  “Great.” His brown eyes twinkled.

  “So, I’ll just… hop…” I gulped. “…h-hop right on.”

  “Aw, Will’s not so bad!”

  “Will? I’m riding a Will?” Could this moment be any more embarrassing? Now my thighs were going to be clenching around a horse named Will?

  What were the odds?

  “Hi, Will.” My voice cracked.

  Honest to God, the horse looked back at me and glared.

  “Shit.” I cursed and then put my foot in the same stirrup Bronte had and threw my massive awkward body onto the horse.

  It grunted.

  Shut the hell up, Will!

  “You gonna make it?” Bronte looked over her shoulder.

  I scooted closer to her, then pulled her against me, right where I wanted her, and let out a pitiful needy groan. “I’m either gonna die from fear or lust. But the truth remains, I will die.”

  Laughter shook her shoulders. “Don’t be a baby. Let’s go!”

  “If you gallop, I’m never speaking to you again.”

  “What about trotting?”

  “That’s a no. Let’s just plan for a calm, easy cadence—” The horse took off in a slow trot. I wasn’t proud of the way I hugged Bronte or the fact that I had my eyes closed to start.

  And then as the horse moved, I realized I was going to have a bigger problem than dying of lust or fear.

  Each movement had her ass pressed against my dick.

  Yeah, I would die today.

  “Farewell, cruel world,” I grumbled under my breath.

  “What?” Bronte called.

  “If I don’t get sex out of this, I’m ending our friendship.”

  She laughed as if I was kidding.

  And my dick cried as if it was going to fall off.

  CHAPTER 14

  Bronte

  I was being punished.

  Or maybe rewarded?

  However you looked at it, I felt Drew everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. How did my life turn out like this? One day I was a lonely divorced mom, and the next I was a divorced mom with a hot-as-hell rockstar clinging to me as if his life depended on it and a very large part of him pushing into me every few seconds.

  Torture.

  I mean, I knew he was packing.

  But this?

  I squirmed on the saddle as the wind picked up and tickled my face. I squirmed again, and it only made the horse neigh as it moved along the white sand.

  Nothing was helping to ease my ache or tap down my wild imagination about how it would be with him.

  The fact he’d admitted that it had been three years actually made me want to climb him like a tree. I was barely able to restrain myself. I dug my nails into my palms to keep from reaching for him and asking him to make sweet love to me on the boardwalk with pedestrians skateboarding by.

  “Everything okay?” Drew’s lips touched my ear.

  They tickled and tempted while I white-knuckled the reins.

  “Yeah,” I croaked. “Great, just enjoying the view.”

  And the feel of him pressed against my ass.

  His muscled forearms pushed hard against my stomach as his hands splayed out across my shirt and, a few seconds later, inched up and cupped my breasts.

  I froze.

  “Sorry, I just needed something to focus on, so I don’t cry like a little girl.” He chuckled.

  “So you chose my boobs?” I didn’t hate it but didn’t want him to think it was that easy.

  Every single nerve ending in my body was on high alert as his thumbs grazed across each breast as if he was memorizing their weight, their feel.

  “They’re heavy,” he rasped. “And I’m imagining how damn good they would feel bare against my palm.”

  I squirmed again.

  “Felt that.” He chuckled. “Why don’t you find a nice, private spot for us to set up camp?”

  “Camp?” I asked, confused.

  “Picnic, actually,” he clarified. God, why did even his voice sound sexy? Was that rasp because of me, or had it always been there? “That’s a good spot over there.” One of his hands left my breast as he pointed toward a secluded area near one of the bluffs. Water crashed against the cliff next to it, giving the best view of the ocean spray as it made a continuous motion that was almost hypnotizing to watch.

  “Okay.” I found my voice and directed the horse over to the spot. Every single second in that saddle was sweet torture. Drew’s smell, the feel of him, his very hard-to-ignore erection — everything about him was consuming me to the point of madness. I was dizzy with attraction and more afraid of drowning in him than I was of drowning in the ocean.

  “You want to get down first?” Drew asked, again in my ear, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my body. I held back the shiver it caused, but just barely. What was wrong with me? Was it because I was sitting so close to him? All these times, there had been this physical barrier I didn’t even realize I’d put there, and now that we had touched for a solid twenty minutes, it was all I could think about.

  “Bronte?” His warm chuckle interrupted my lust-filled thoughts. “Are you okay? Because I’m a minute away from launching my body toward the sand. Will keeps staring back at me, and I’m afraid he bites.”

  I jerked my head to the side, nearly colliding with his mouth. “Sorry. Yeah, I’ll get off first.”

  His smirk was deadly. “Thinking a lot of thoughts?”

  I gulped. “No… yes. I, uhhh…” My eyes lowered; I couldn’t help it.

  Damn, the man was packing. It was all I could seem to focus on.

  Slowly, he licked his lips and then palmed himself and shrugged. “It can’t be helped, and I’m probably going to imagine this moment in my life over and over again and question my own sanity at being able to actually keep my hands for the most part to myself when all I kept imagining was stripping you naked with my bare teeth and impaling you against the saddle.” He sighed.

  I gaped. “I don’t really know if I should be offended, insulted, or just straight-up turned on by what you just said.”

  His eyes lowered to my chest. “Well, at least your body knows best.”

  I instantly crossed my arms as my nipples tingled.

  “Cold?” He winked.

  I smacked him on the leg then started getting off the horse, throwing my other leg over and mourning the loss of his heat as if I would never get to experience it again.

  When my feet hit the sand, Drew started making his dismount, but apparently, Will was angry about something or just sensed Drew’s fear; he shook his head and then looked back and bared his teeth at his petrified rider.

  Drew held up his hands, his eyes wide. “Oh, shit.”

  I reached for Will’s face and started rubbing his fur. “It’s okay, boy
. He’s just scared of you because you’re bigger than him.”

  Drew snorted. “Helpful. Tell him how big he is so he can crush me!”

  I laughed while Will neighed and tapped his hoof against the sand. Adorable. How could anyone be afraid of such a sweetie?

  “Just get off slowly. You’re heavier than I am,” I instructed, still petting Will’s fur.

  Drew grumbled under his breath and moved again. “Can you touch me like that?”

  “You want me to pet your face?”

  His voice lowered. “I want you to pet something.” And then he somehow managed to half fall off the horse onto his ass in the sand.

  He bit out a curse and glared at both of us as if it was my fault he’d fallen.

  “Graceful.” I laughed.

  He jabbed a finger in my direction. “I was distracted by all the petting talk.”

  “So distracted that you couldn’t even get off Will?”

  “What can I say? You’re beautifully distracting. Hey, I have an idea. You should probably bring those hands over here along with that mouth so I can start getting my reward.”

  I gave Will one last stroke and walked over to Drew, holding my hand out to him to help him up, but instead of getting up, he pulled me down like I weighed nothing, right onto his lap. My legs wrapped around his body as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “There.” His lips touched mine. “That’s so much better.”

  I cupped his face with my hands. “What are we doing?”

  “Kissing.” His lips moved across mine briefly before pulling back. “And next, we’re going to kiss some more, and then I’m going to pour you some pre-birthday champagne, and then we’re going to talk about all the ways I’m going to taste you tonight when we’re back at the house, you know, after Not-My-Daughter’s in bed.”

  I could literally feel him throbbing against me. We were alone near the bluff — I mean, if you didn’t count Will who seemed to be ignoring us altogether.

  “And if I say no?”

  “Your words say one thing. Your eyes say something else entirely. Let me give you a present…”