Page 28 of Surrender
“You’re giving me a mess of mixed signals.” He slices his hands through his dark hair, mussing it up so beautifully, I itch to touch it. “You’re saying you don’t regret it, but you’re over there twitching. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I’m freaking mortified!” I bellow.
His face falls. “Whatever for?”
I blink rapidly. “What for? You want the list?”
“Top five at least,” he volleys back.
“Well, I’m ashamed of how I treated you,” I answer honestly. If he wants to hear the list, I’ll give it to him. “I yelled at you, and clawed you, and threatened you.”
“So, does that mean you didn’t like it?” he asks.
“No, I loved it! I loved it so much I’m humiliated.” God, what’s wrong with me that I liked making him kneel in front of me? I know this lifestyle exists, but I’m a mother and business owner. I’m a people pleaser! This isn’t me.
“If you loved it, what is there to be ashamed of? I wanted you to do it. I…loved it, too.” He hesitates when he says the last part, seemingly a bit uneasy as well. He’s been so calm and collected thus far. Seeing him falter is comforting on some weird level. “Look, Sloan. We are two consenting adults. What’s the harm in any of this?”
“I don’t understand why you liked it.” I look at him in question, wanting to know why a strong, sexy, hugely famous athlete would let a woman take control over him.
Having the attention turned on him brings him pause. He shifts uncomfortably before steeling himself to reply, “I maintain control in so many aspects of my life. I liked giving it up to you.”
I nearly snort. “Do you do this with all your women?”
“Women?” he repeats, rubbing the back of his neck in irritation. “You say it like there are loads. First of all, there aren’t. Second of all, I’ve never done anything like that with any other woman. Only you.”
Only you.
I repeat his words in my head and they feel good. Comforting. A small smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. I can’t help it. There’s something incredibly empowering about this information.Only me.
Gareth is smirking now. He’s smirking, and he’s so dang handsome it’s difficult to focus. “Did you like being in control?” he asks, his body language coaxing me to open up.
I nod woodenly. Nervously. Cautiously.
“Then why don’t we do it again?”
“Right now?” I bark, horribly unladylike.
The low chuckle that vibrates in his chest is thigh-clenching. “Not necessarily. I just mean, perhaps we can make this a thing between us.”
“I have so much going on, Gareth. I seriously don’t think I’m ready for this.”
“Ready for what?” he asks.
“A relationship with Manchester’s most popular soccer player for starters!” I run my hands through my hair, trying hard to stop the trembling that’s happening in my body.
“Footballer,” he murmurs under his breath and leans across the table to clasp my hands. “And I already told you last week, I’m not suggesting a relationship, Sloan.”
My spine straightens. “What exactly are you asking for then?”
“You just got out of a crap marriage. I’m not interested in being committed.” His hands freeze on mine as he looks down at our embrace and searches for the right word. “So let’s just call thisfreedom.”
He rolls my hand in his and runs his finger down a line on my palm. My skin is so pale and soft against his battered, weathered grip, but his touch is warm and comforting. And it’s doing things to me. Naughty things and enticing things.
I release a shaky breath and whisper, “What kind of freedom?”
He half smiles at me, a look of hope brightening his dark eyes. “The kind where we both get to explore these newfound feelings…together.”
“What kind of feelings are you referring to exactly?” I ask, my pulse thumping so hard he can probably feel it in my finger.
