Page 45 of Surrender to Me
“Won’t?”
“Fine line,” she counters.
“Share the burden.”
“Stryker—”
But I don’t let her finish. I pull her closer and kiss her, pouring all my want and need and stubborn determination into the contact. She melts into me immediately, her hands fisting in my shirt, and I taste desperation on her tongue. Desperation and chai and vulnerable femininity.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Come back to bed with me,” I say against her lips.
“We shouldn’t?—”
“We should. We absolutely should.” I stand up, pulling her with me, the blanket falling away. “We’ve got tonight.”
She looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes, and I see the exact moment she makes her choice. The moment she decides to stop running. For now.
And I’m thinking of the first of a million ways to make her shatter…
Chapter Thirteen
Stryker
The way she looks at me in the moonlight—eyes wide with want and wariness, lips parted like she’s already breathless.
Once more, a primal beast roars in my chest.
Mine.
I’ve never wanted to own someone the way I want to own her. Never felt this driving need to strip away every wall, every defense, until there’s nothing left but raw, honest surrender.
“I want you inside.” There’s command in my voice, rougher than I intend. “Now.”
She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t hesitate. Just lets me guide her back through the sliding door, the blanket trailing behind us like a cape.
The warmth of the cabin hits us, and I watch her shiver—not from cold this time but from anticipation. From the promise in my voice and the heat in my eyes.
I lock the door behind us and reset the alarm with quick, practiced movements. But my attention never leaves her. The way she stands in the middle of the living room, uncertain for maybe the first time since I’ve known her. The way her fingers toy with the hem of her shirt, nervous energy crackling around her like electricity.
“I’ve got to have you in the bedroom.” Her eyes darken, but when she starts to move, I catch her wrist. “Wait.”
She freezes, pulse hammering against my thumb where I’m holding her.
“Look at me, Allie.”
Her blue eyes meet mine, and I see everything she’s trying to hide—the hunger, the fear, the desperate need to let someone else be in control for once in her carefully guarded life.
“I’m going to take you apart, piece by piece”—I trace my thumb over her pulse point, feeling how it jumps at my words—“until you forget why you’re running.”
Passion blazes in her eyes.
“Forget everything except my name and how good I make you feel.”
Her breath catches.
“But I need to know you want this. Really want this. Not just the sex—anyone can give you that. I’m talking about giving me control. Letting me decide how and when and where I touch you. Trusting me to know what you need better than you do.”
