Surrender to Temptation

by M. S. Parker

  “We barely know each other.” I tried another excuse but knew that I was losing the fight.

  “Don't ask me to explain what I don't understand. All I know is that I want to be with you. I need to be with you.”

  The hand still on my arm moved to my waist, slid around to the small of my back.

  I felt exposed, as if he could read everything I felt for him. Everything I shouldn't feel. My hands came to rest on his chest, and through his clothes, I could feel the pounding in his chest, a quick gallop that beat parallel to mine. I wanted nothing more than to reach up and pull his face down to mine, kiss him until neither one of us could breathe.

  Fear of the unknown stopped me. Not only the unknown that came naturally with this sort of thing, but of what consequences might come from my actions. How could I possibly be sure that any relationship with Gracen Lightwood wouldn't change the course of history more than I already had?

  “Say something,” he murmured.

  I took in a deep breath, and then let it out slowly, looking away from him as I tried to think of what to say. His fingers moved to cup my chin and turned my head back to him. Without hesitation, without concern for consequences, he leaned in for another kiss.

  I knew if I told him to stop, he would, but I wasn't strong enough to do it. I gave in, melted against him, and let his touch wash away the doubts and the what-ifs. I stopped worrying and let myself simply be, feel. The hand on my back pulled me tight against him, and I shivered as my body made contact with his. Even through our layers of clothing, I could feel the electricity that flowed between us and knew that this connection between us went deeper than anything I'd imagined possible.

  I didn't know who or what had brought me here, or why, but, at least for now, I would stop questioning it. If destiny or the universe or whatever didn't want me with Gracen, then it would just have to send me back to my own time.

  Twenty

  There were moments in life that stuck with a person, some good, some bad. The good ones usually filled me with the same sort of combination of emotions. Excitement. Joy. Often some anticipation thrown in. Each one of them always had the same effect on me though: a longing for the ability to find some mystical pause button that would freeze the moment long enough for me to bask in it for as long as I could.

  This was one of those moments. Which, of course, just made it all the more surreal.

  As I followed Gracen back through the house and up the stairs, I realized where he was taking me. Okay, so I might've been a little slow on the uptake, but in my defense, I never would've thought a man during this time period would have initiated sex outside of marriage. Then again, it wouldn't have surprised me if I really thought about it. Historically, men often seduced their servants.

  I pushed the thought aside. Following it wouldn't go anywhere good. I wanted this. I needed this. As he led us into his room, I told myself not to overthink this. And when he turned toward me, the heat in his eyes burned away everything else but the desire for him.

  I could already feel my hands shaking as I held back the need to reach out and touch him. My cheeks heated up, and I thanked the dim light of the candles for hiding what would have been an obvious indicator of how badly I wanted him. I could barely understand it myself. I'd always thought I understood attraction, but I now realized that what I'd felt before was nothing compared to what I felt now.

  Gracen seemed to glide towards me, a slow movement of his body as his hands reached up to cup my face. Our eyes locked, and it was that moment that I truly wanted time to stop so I could get lost in the waves of color that shifted in the candlelight, lost in the way he looked at me. Capture this moment before real life had a chance to ruin it.

  Then again, considering the fact that I was about to sleep with a man who'd been dead for hundreds of years by the time I was born, I'd say my definition of what constituted real life had changed recently.

  Then his mouth was on mine, and that was all that mattered.

  I hadn't realized I'd expected his kisses to be different now that they were leading to sex until they weren't. There was nothing greedy about them, no desperate attempt to hurry through to get to the main event. His hands didn't even leave my face to try to cop a feel.

  My hands curled around his lapels as he broke away from me, and I actually swayed on my feet. Even with my eyes shut, I knew he was close. I could feel his breath against my lips. Every inch of me was tingling.

  “What are we doing?” I whispered, my voice cracking. I knew where this would go if we were in my time, but I didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Not with my heart on the line.

  One hand slid to the small of my back as the other went around my waist. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, his eyes almost black.

  “What I have wanted to do from the moment I realized that you were a woman,” he said softly. “But only if you wish it as well, Honor.”

  The way he said my name made my entire body shudder, and I set my hands lightly on his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt bending between my fingers as his words pierced through my mind. Only if I wanted it too. While Bruce had never forced himself on me, he'd certainly never asked if I wanted to have sex with him. It'd always just been assumed unless I specifically said I didn't want to.

  “Yes, I want–”

  His mouth came down on mine, and I instinctively knew that it came from a need to taste me rather than quiet me. I knew it because I felt the same way. I'd never understood the concept of need when it came to another person until now. I honestly felt like I'd explode if I didn't get to touch him.

  For the first time in my life, I didn't think about the consequences but allowed myself to dive into the moment headfirst. Gone were the thoughts of Bruce, the worries about Gracen’s family and fiancée, the war outside, and the lack of comprehension as to how I was here in the first place. Gone were all my fears, my insecurities, my need to make sense of the world.

  All I let myself know was him.

  The way his lips moved with mine, the scent of him. The feel of his hair as I ran my fingers through his curls. His broad shoulders, the firm muscles there. My hands slid between us even as his strong fingers kneaded my back. I told him that I wanted this, but I was getting the impression that he was waiting for something from me.

  I unbuttoned his shirt even as his teeth grazed my bottom lip. I moaned into his mouth and slid my hands across his chest. His body leaned into mine as I pushed his shirt off his shoulders, his mouth harder against mine, his tongue more demanding. I could feel him hardening against my hip, and then he was taking a step back, his breathing as ragged as my own.

  “You're certain about this?” he asked.

  I turned around. “I need help with the ties.”

  His fingers were quick and sure as they moved down my back. As soon as he finished, I turned, not wanting to risk him seeing my tattoo. Just because I refused to worry about all of the other shit going on, didn't mean I'd disregard my safety. The last thing I needed was another slip up.

  “Too many damn layers,” I muttered as I struggled to get out of the dress and everything else that was under it.

  Gracen chuckled, but as the dress finally fell to the floor, the laughter faded, and by the time I looked up at him, his expression was serious again.

  “You are a beautiful woman, Honor Daviot.”

  His gaze ran the whole length of me, one long look that moved over me like a caress. As if my skin wasn't hot enough already.

  “So beautiful.”

  He stepped toward me, the expression on his face not hesitant exactly, but definitely like he was giving me the chance to stop him.

  Which wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  His eyes met mine a moment before his hand cupped my breast, and then I was stepping into him. I wrapped my arms around his neck as we fell back onto the bed. My hands moved across his back, gently scratching at him as his lips made their way down my neck, then to my collarbone and lower still. His thumb ran across
my nipple, and it hardened under his touch. I arched my back as he kissed his way between my breasts, then moving his tongue across the flesh before taking a nipple into his mouth.

  It'd been so long since I'd had any hands on me other than my own, and even then, it'd been so rare that I could already feel the tension coiling inside me. It wouldn’t take much for me to get off.

  “Gracen,” I moaned, and almost as if he could read my mind, his hand moved down between my thighs.

  His fingers caressed me, brushed over the dark curls there before slipping one finger between my folds.

  “You're wet.”

  He sounded surprised, and I wondered if the women he'd slept with before hadn't been. If not, it certainly hadn't been due to his lack of skill. His mouth and hands certainly knew what they were doing. I gasped as he slipped a finger inside me, and I opened my legs, allowed him to settle between them.

  As he worked a second finger inside me, the world around me dissipated, leaving nothing but the two of us. It was as if we were in a void, an impenetrable bubble where the two of us couldn't be disturbed. He twisted his fingers, and my entire body exploded, rocked by an intense orgasm. I bit down onto his shoulder to muffle my screams, and his body jerked against mine. I heard him mutter an oath and wondered if I'd gone too far. Maybe he wasn't used to a woman enjoying herself.

  He pushed himself up on his elbow, his fingers still inside me. He looked puzzled, but not upset. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

  I shook my head. “No, but you’re going to kill me.”

  I groaned in delight as his thumb brushed my clit, my hips now rocking against his hand as his lips traced circles on my neck.

  “Is that...pleasurable?” he asked as his thumb touched me again.

  I shuddered, hips jerking. “Yes. Oh, fu–yes.” I barely managed to catch myself. I wasn't sure if fuck was commonly used in this time period, but if it was, I was pretty sure it wasn't something ladies said.

  “I'll remember that,” he murmured.

  It wasn't until I felt the heat of his skin against the insides of my thighs that I realized he'd pushed off his pants at some point. My entire body was pulsing, throbbing, desperate to be filled. I hadn't had anything inside me in too many months to count, and I needed him.

  I slid my hand down between us, feeling his stomach muscles jump under my fingers. He drew in a sharp breath when I wrapped my hand around the thick, solid shaft of flesh between us.

  “You bewilder me, Honor,” he said, his voice low and rough.

  I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him closer, my lips locking onto his for one brilliant, hot moment before breaking away. “Is that a good thing?” I asked.

  He nodded, lust shining clearly in his eyes. “Very.”

  I pushed my hips up against him, my hand guiding him to my entrance. As the tip of him pushed against me, I had a second of clarity that told me this was the turning point, the moment that would forever change me. And then his hand was there. He adjusted himself, his eyes never leaving mine, and with one quick push, slid inside me.

  A moan escaped my lips before I could stop it, and I grabbed onto his shoulders tight as he pushed in deeper. My body stretched around him, near painful pleasure that I'd never experienced before. Bruce wasn't small, but Gracen was different, as if his body had been made specifically to fit mine.

  He rocked against me, his movements slow, tentative at first, as if feeling his way inside me before moving with more confident strokes. I knew he didn't want to hurt me, and that made me care about him even more. Then the base of him pressed against my clit and the world exploded around me, my mind bursting with ecstasy. I wrapped my legs around him, my nails digging deep into his skin, my hips grinding against his thrusts. He truly was going to kill me, and in the midst of it all, I could feel one orgasm after the other burst through me until I wasn't sure if I was coming multiple times or just one long, unending climax that I was sure would end me.

  In the heat of the moment, with my eyes closed and the touch of his lips against mine as we moaned against each other, I could only think of one thing: how much I wanted this to last forever. I could feel the heat of my body against his, his breath against my lips as he moved, his chest pressed against my breasts as our heartbeats raced each other. Emotions rattled my mind, and my moans quickly turned into soft screams that matched his groans of pleasure.

  And then Gracen froze, his muscles flexing and his body stiffening. He pushed in deeper with his last thrust, and as he came, I pushed my hips up, reaching for that last little bit of friction. As I felt him fill every inch inside me, I came with him.

  After a long moment, he rolled off of me, and his arms went around my shoulders. He pulled me close and brushed his lips against the top of my head. I made sure I pulled the sheet up high enough to cover my tattoo and then allowed myself to relax against him. For the first time since I'd woken up here, all the chaos and tension that'd been keeping me awake was gone, and I let the darkness take me.

  As long as I was in Gracen's arms, I was safe.

  Twenty-One

  “I don’t trust him.”

  My father was frowning, his eyes narrowed. He was angry, and I tried to remember that he was just trying to protect me. It didn't make it any easier to have my father so opposed to my engagement. I wasn't sure why he hadn't seen this coming. Bruce and I had been exclusive for three years, and I'd just finished boot camp. Of course I wanted to be engaged before I reported to Fort Hood.

  “You never liked him to start with,” I said.

  “And I’ve been clear about why,” my father replied. “I know guys like him. I’ve seen what they do, and who they are. He’s not right for you.”

  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “How about giving him a chance in the first place?”

  “You think I don’t know the difference between a man who deserves a chance and a man who doesn’t?”

  “You don't know him like I do.” I gave the same protest that I'd been giving since I'd told my parents that Bruce and I were serious.

  “I know his type, and I won’t sit around here and watch you throw your life away for him.”

  “He's my fiancé, and I'm an adult.” I didn't feel much like an adult at the moment, but I needed to remind my father that I wasn't a child anymore.

  “I will not give my little girl to someone who doesn’t deserve her!”

  It was only then that I saw the tears in my father's eyes. My father who so rarely cried. It was that more than anything else that got through to me.

  “You don’t get it, Honor.” His voice calmed, quieted. “There will be moments in your life when you will jump into things based on pure emotion, and when that happens, when the moment is gone and done with, you’ll be left with nothing but regret and guilt. I just want to spare you that.”

  I opened my mouth, wanting to say that I wouldn't regret my decision to marry Bruce, that I knew exactly what I was doing, but the reality was, I couldn’t know for sure if I had made the right decision. All I had to go on was an emotional connection to the only boy I ever loved. That had to be enough.

  My father was wrong. He'd see it eventually.

  I wouldn't let myself think anything else.

  “What have we done?”

  The moving bed had woken me, but it was Gracen's anxious question that concerned me more. I sat up in bed, wrapping the sheet around my body, the gesture in equal parts to make sure my tattoo was hidden and because I suddenly felt a lot less confident about being naked in front of him. He was half-dressed, pacing about the room like a mad man.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, still dazed with sleep and a little annoyed at the manner by which I had been forced awake. Images of last night flashed through my mind, and Gracen's nervous manner was quickly dampening the sweetness of the memory.

  “This!” He gestured to the two of us. “Us. What we did last night. All of this!”

  I clenched the sheets tighter to me, instantly
self-conscious. I wondered if this was how drunk people felt when they woke up the next day and found a stranger in their bed. I knew we had a lot to work out, but I never expected to wake up to him freaking out. I forgot about how good last night had felt, my thoughts shifting to more urgent matters, like finding my clothes and escaping. I searched the floor, calculating how fast it would take me to get dressed before Gracen freaked out completely. Too long. Damn eighteenth-century dresses.

  “A mistake, that’s what this was,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “It was a mistake.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks. “A mistake?” I asked incredulously. If we'd been drunk, I could've seen that explanation, but we were stone-cold sober. We knew what we were doing and who we were doing it with. “I’m sorry, did I trip and fall naked into your bed before you accidentally rolled on top of me?”

  Gracen stopped his pacing and glared at me. “This is not a laughing matter, Honor!”

  “Do I look like I’m laughing, Gracen?” I snapped back.

  “This was wrong. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  I stared at him in utter disbelief, my mind turning with the hundreds of different comebacks I wanted to throw in his face. I couldn’t believe how incredibly naïve I'd been, believing that last night had meant something more than just sex.

  “You know what?” I finally said. “You’re absolutely right.”

  I threw off the sheet and climbed out of bed, naked, inwardly wincing as Gracen looked away. Bastard. He was obviously ashamed of what we'd done, and while I could understand the ramifications of sleeping with a person while engaged to someone else, he didn't need to be an ass about it. My hands shook as I pulled my dress on, embarrassed that I had lost control of my emotions long enough to get myself into this mess.

  “What should we do now?” Gracen glanced over his shoulder and then turned to face me.

  I gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

  “What will we tell my father?” Gracen asked. “How will we explain this?”