Page 32 of Surrender to Me
Shaking my head, I look at him. “Too long.”
Something shifts in his expression. Not pity, exactly, but understanding. Like he recognizes the loneliness I’ve been carrying.
“Same for me.” His admission is quiet and honest.
We finish eating, and the wine has relaxed me in a way I can’t afford to be, but I can’t bring myself to care. For this moment, I’m not running. I’m not hiding. I’m just a woman having dinner with a man who makes her feel things she didn’t know she could feel.
“There’s a fire pit outside,” he says when we’ve cleared the dishes. “We could sit out there for a bit. I think I saw marshmallows in the pantry. We could make s’mores.”
The idea sounds impossibly normal. Impossibly appealing.
“If you want.”
I do want. Him. Time together.
Things I shouldn’t—don’t dare—want.
Things that threaten to tear down the walls I’ve spent a lifetime building.
“What will it be, Allie?”
Chapter Nine
Lyra
Being outside is less dangerous than remaining here, letting the tension build. And besides, that delays the inevitability of going to bed.
Beneath the same sheets.
“S’mores for the win.” Does he hear how forced my voice sounds?
Grateful I have something to do, I gather the ingredients while he heads outside.
Ten minutes later, we’re in the fire pit area. Seating is arranged in a circular fashion around the area, and there are lots of rocks snuggled up to the hole in the ground.
There are a few Adirondack chairs, a couple of thick, short tree stumps that don’t look comfortable at all. And there’s a wooden bench that seats two people.
I take a chair while he gets a fire started.
Kindling crackles. Then the logs ignite, flames casting dancing shadows across our faces. The night air is crisp and cold, and he carried out a blanket that he now wraps around my shoulders.
Once we have a nice fire, spears a marshmallow with a long, straight stick. Taking a seat, he offers it to me.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Oh? No camping trips?”
Always a balancing act so I don’t reveal too much. “That isn’t something my family was into.”
“Well, you’re about to learn one of the best things about being outside at night.”
Dad had always preferred the cover of night, when there were heavy clouds. And he hated full moons. I’d been taught that the time after sunset was our ally. It wasn’t for sitting around and having fun.
“Hold it just above the flames. Not in them.” Stryker’s not as bossy as he has been up until now. This is a softer, different side of him. “Think of it like teasing. You want steady heat, not an inferno. Keep it moving, slow circles, until the outside turns that perfect golden brown.”
I nod, lean forward, and immediately dip the marshmallow straight into the heart of the fire.
Whoosh.
