Page 99 of Surrender to Me
Damn it. I want this for my future—her here, us here, building something real. The thought settles deep, unshakable. I’ve never wanted permanence with anyone, but with her, I can’t imagine anything else.
I carry the fresh logs to the hearth, stack them nearby, then join her in the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?”
She points to a bowl and asks me to fill it with the popcorn while she grabs napkins, then fills the mugs.
A couple of minutes later, we’re settled on the couch with snacks and drinks.
“Any preference in titles?”
She sits cross-legged with the blanket draped over her lap. “Suggestions?”
Grabbing the remote control, I turn on the TV and find the screen where we can watch some previews.
“How about that Christmas one?”
“Are you serious?” It’s a caper that had been on endless repeat when I’d been trapped at a safehouse with a family who had kids. Since they were missing out on their holiday celebrations, they wanted to watch the newest kid-oriented feature.
“It’s early for Christmas.” She shrugs. “But with the storm, it feels right.”
Why not? If its laughter and frivolity the lady wants, who am I to object?
She offers me the popcorn bowl, and I take a handful.
The movie opens with a bumbling thief in a Santa suit trying to rob a toy factory, all slapstick and heart.
She laughs at the first pratfall, a bright sound that cuts through the cabin’s quiet, and I watch her more than the screen. She’s fully into it, legs tucked under her, popping kernels into her mouth one by one. When the thief attempts to crack a safe using a candy cane, she snorts.
“That would never work.” She tosses a piece of popcorn at the screen.
“You don’t think?”
“You’d snap the cane before you even felt the pins.”
But her words… The first insight into what she’s hiding.
And she’s exactly right. A candy cane wouldn’t have the torque or durability to manipulate lock pins. Hollywood bullshit. But she shouldn’t know that unless she’s picked a lock herself. Or watched someone who has.
Oh my sweet Allie. You can run all you want, but you can’t hide. Not from me. Not ever.
I keep my expression neutral, tossing another kernel into my mouth as the movie rolls on.
During a chase scene, she leans into me, her shoulder against my arm, and I drape mine across the back of the couch, fingers brushing her hair.
The storm continues to pile snow against the windows, but in here, it’s warm, easy.
Eventually the credits roll, and she stretches, yawning.
“I think I’m going to bed.”
“I’ll be there in a bit. Needs to check the cameras, talk to headquarters.”
For a moment, she freezes. Then seeming to realize it, she forces a small smile as she nods. “Hurry?”
How tempting it is to sweep her off her feet and carry her down the hallway and fuck her till she drifts off.
She stands, gathering the empty bowl and mugs.
“You can leave those. I’ll wash them.”
