The Right to Surrender

by H M Thomas

  “I’ve heard Mr. Carlisle and his associates talk fondly of you.” Gretchen extended a hand toward Ronnie.

  The other woman ignored Gretchen’s hand, forcing her to drop it without acknowledgement. “I’m sure you have.” She smiled condescendingly.

  Ronnie glanced at the door, her patronizing smile turning genuine. Gretchen’s stomach dropped and she followed her gaze. Jay Finley strode through the doorway in a black suit and black shirt, left unbuttoned at the neck, looking entirely too lethal and sexy for anyone’s good.

  Moving closer to Carlisle, Gretchen told herself whatever happened next was all part of the game, all part of the roles she and Finn had to play when they were here. Though that didn’t make it any easier to escape the same doubt about which version of Finn was real.

  “Jay.” Ronnie slid from the booth and met him in the aisle. She threw her arms around his neck and pushed her body against his, before she took his lips possessively.

  The sudden need to vomit hit Gretchen, but she managed to stare back stone-faced. Leaning against Carlisle’s chair, she picked at a cuticle as if the scene across from her didn’t claw at her insides. Finn slid his hands from the other woman’s back down to her hips before he pulled away. Gretchen faked a yawn.

  Carlisle chuckled against her side. “Is the show boring you, my dear?” He turned from Finn and Ronnie to look up at her.

  “I’ve certainly seen better.” She shrugged with a bright smile.

  He nodded. “You remind me of her. You could be more than a dancer one day, you know?”

  “You mean I could be a hooker?” Gretchen ventured sarcastically, feigning shock.

  Carlisle chuckled again. “I mean you could be your own boss, Lilah. You could be running things for yourself.”

  She bent so the two of them spoke only a breath from each other. “What makes you think I want that?”

  “I know brains when I see them.” His smile faded, and his eyes turned dark. “You won’t be able to hide behind those tits forever.”

  Gretchen straightened. Sometimes she felt guilty for ruining Raymond Carlisle’s life. If she could look past the drug running and prostitution, he really was a sweet old man.

  “Speaking of my tits.” They were safer territory than her brain. “I’ll be back on stage soon. Do you mind if I grab a drink first?”

  “Of course. Why don’t you see if Jay needs anything?” He winked. The old man wanted a confrontation. She wouldn’t give him one.

  She approached Finn with a smile on her face. “Mr. Finley, is there anything I can get you from the bar?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Finn looked up and his eyes met Gretchen’s. For once he was glad she wore a wig and contacts. It made it easier to pretend he didn’t love her, that he hadn’t missed her voice and her touch like an addict would miss his drug of choice. But then her plump lips turned up and he could no longer pretend.

  Despite the ways Gretchen may have changed over the years from girl to woman, her smile had always made him feel as if he were capable of being better. Now, as she moved near, without touching, even his dick responded immediately to her closeness.

  “Mr. Finley,” she started again when he didn’t answer.

  “A Coke.” He gave a swift nod.

  “Yes sir.”

  Those two words sent a punch of lust straight to his balls. Before he could recover, she walked past, close enough he could smell the familiar scent of her soap under the cheap perfume she wore to the club.

  “Come sit with me.” Ronnie pulled him to the booth. Before Finn could sit, Grant came forward, lifting his chin as he approached.

  Finn held back as Ronnie slid in beside Carlisle. “Something wrong?”

  Grant sighed. “Lilah and I had a small confrontation tonight.”

  The corner of Finn’s mouth turned up and he shook his head. “I’m sure that’s an understatement. I’ve never known her to half-ass anything.”

  Grant’s eyes narrowed at the sudden affection that warmed Finn’s voice. Finn cleared his throat and waited for the security guard to continue.

  “She danced with a guy,” Grant pushed forward.

  “Jay,” Ronnie beckoned, interrupting Grant while simultaneously shooting daggers at him.

  The bouncer’s lip curled in disgust.

  “Okay. Thanks.” Finn gave the other man a quick bump on the shoulder to dismiss him. Across the club, Gretchen stood at the bar. She waited on the drinks and snuck glances at the table in the back corner. He didn’t like the idea of her dancing with anyone, but she hadn’t been hurt. He’d talk to her later and make sure she didn’t make it a habit.

  Ronnie grabbed Finn’s arm, refusing to be deterred. He shrugged her off. Why couldn’t she have stayed in Miami where she belonged? He didn’t need her here complicating everything. It had been eight months since he’d last slept with her. Still, she’d stake her claim as she always did, and he had to play it out, as he would’ve before he’d fallen in love with the enemy. Hopefully, Gretchen wouldn’t do anything stupid before Ronnie left, and he could explain everything to her.

  Gretchen walked away from the bar with his drink in her small hand. Men watched her as she made her way through the crowd, their eyes dark with desire. She kept her head up and maneuvered through them as if they didn’t exist. Stopping in front of him, she held out his glass. When he took it from her, he brushed his fingers lightly against hers. Without so much as a glance at him, she pulled away and sipped from her own glass.

  “Grant tells me you had an admirer tonight.” He studied her over the rim of his glass.

  She shrugged absently, drawing his eyes to the breasts that pushed at the top of her dress. “Is that all he told you?”

  He clenched his jaw. “What else is there?”

  She gave her head a quick shake. “If he didn’t report anything, there must not have been anything.”

  “I told you I didn’t want anyone else to touch you.” He stepped closer.

  “Of course, you’re the only one who gets to play wherever you want.”

  He’d been slightly disappointed when he’d pushed Ronnie away earlier only to find Gretchen laughing with Carlisle as if she didn’t care. He’d been wrong, she was seething inside. He hadn’t given her acting skills enough credit.

  He opened his mouth to try to explain things to her, but she looked away and nodded to the DJ who motioned for her to get backstage.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” She brushed him off, finishing her glass of whiskey and placing it on the table beside her. “I’m up next.”

  Every hair on the back of his neck raised in warning as she sashayed away, before he took the seat beside Ronnie.

  ~ ~ ~

  The floor beneath Gretchen swayed slightly as she climbed the steps behind the stage. Usually she watered down or swapped out the drinks the bartenders slid her. Not tonight. Tonight she’d drank the whiskey in a futile attempt to quiet her jealousy, so she could focus on her job, a problem she’d never had before.

  Normally she’d dance to something with an upbeat tempo. A song by Britney Spears or the Pussycat Dolls, something to get her body moving enough to have libidos rising, but nothing overly sensual. Tonight, she’d blame the alcohol for the fact that this time the low, sultry beat of The Weeknd’s “Wicked Games” greeted her instead. She easily found Finn where he sat in the booth with Ronnie, the other woman’s enhanced breasts pressed into his arm as she leaned up to speak into his ear.

  Gretchen moved her hips slowly side to side. Running her hands up her stomach and over her breasts, she turned and gave a slow shake of her ass, sliding her hands down her legs as she bent over. She faced the crowd again as she made her way around the pole and rolled her body. Her sex inched closer to the pole with each gyration before she wrapped a leg around it and
spun, sliding her body against the cool metal.

  Finn was only a distant thought as she blocked out everything but the routine she’d choreographed and the music that pounded in her veins like a lover.

  When the song ended, the crowd sat silently for a moment before someone wolf-whistled and began to applaud. Gretchen stood and soaked it in as she caught her breath. When her gaze clashed with Finn’s fiery glare, she narrowed her eyes, giving him a fuck you grin before strutting off the stage.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Damn, she’s good.” Ronnie’s breath crawled across Finn’s neck, causing him to recoil. “I didn’t pay her enough attention earlier. What’s her name again?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he watched Gretchen emerge from behind the stage. In the back, a table of guys erupted in applause and whistles. Even in the dim light, Finn could see a blush work its way up her chest, before she disappeared down the hall to her private room.

  He pushed away from the table and headed toward the back of the club.

  Grant stepped in front of him. “Don’t,” the other man warned.

  “They’re harassing her.” Finn gave him his best fuck off glare.

  Grant only raised a brow and shook his head. “The one in the hat.” He nodded toward the table.

  Finn looked at the table more closely. Two of the three men laughed and guzzled beers while the third scowled in Finn’s direction.

  “Who is he?” He hadn’t seen the tall, dark-haired man before, but he didn’t like the set of his broad shoulders or the way he gripped his glass until his knuckles went white.

  “That’s the one she danced with,” Grant explained.

  Finn studied him more closely. He didn’t look like the men who usually came to the club to pick up dancers or waitresses. Those men tended to either try too hard with their designer clothes and slicked back hair, or not enough, looking as if they’d come straight from job sites or the street. This guy wore a gray T-shirt stretched over lean, taut muscles, and a black ball-cap, pulled low over his eyes. He lifted his glass to his lips, every movement controlled and efficient. Looked like Gretchen had found herself a fighter, and the thought made Finn’s own fists clench.

  Grant cleared his throat. “She took him back to her room.”

  Finn’s head snapped around as Grant’s words hit him like a punch to his stomach. “She what?”

  He had to have heard wrong. There was only one reason for Gretchen to take someone to her private room, and that was ridiculous. She wouldn’t have sex with someone else when the two of them . . . He stopped. She really had no reason not to sleep with someone else.

  “She said you could go fuck yourself.” Grant ducked his head as he spoke.

  “She what?” Finn repeated.

  He pulled his glare away from the man still watching him. As if the way Gretchen had all but fucked the pole moments before hadn’t been enough to get his blood churning, now she’s said he could fuck him . . . self?

  “I believe she thinks you and Ronnie—”

  “I don’t give a damn what she thinks.” Only he did, more than he wanted to admit.

  He pushed past Grant and marched down the hall to Gretchen’s room. Once there, he threw open the door and barged in. “What the hell was that?”

  Gretchen turned as the door slapped the brick wall and bounced back. When her eyes met his, they were filled with molten fury.

  “My job.” She turned back to the mirror and continued to button her shirt.

  “The fuck it is.” He reached out, grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. “You can dance without fucking the pole, Gre—” He stopped himself and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Lilah.”

  “And I’m sure you can do your job and keep your dick in your pants, Jay, but I doubt you do.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and sauntered to the counter, throwing back her whiskey.

  “Is this about Ronnie?”

  She placed the glass back on the counter with forced gentleness. “There is no this. I have a job to do, so I did it.”

  “So, you brought that guy back to your room tonight as part of the job?” He finally lost the small amount of control he had on his anger and slammed the side of his fist into the wall beside her. “Did you fuck him? I swear to God, if you fucked him.”

  “What if I did?” She pushed her face closer to his, bringing the scent of whiskey with her. “What if I fucked him right in this room and enjoyed every goddamn minute of it?”

  He clenched his fists against the wave of nausea the thought of her with anyone else caused. “Did you?” His voice dripped ice, a complete contradiction to the fury that burned within him.

  “I guess you’ll never know.” She turned to move past him.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her toward him. “Did. You. Fuck. Him?” he bit out.

  “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

  “Like hell you don’t.” His grip on her arm tightened and her eyes grew wide. Fear flashed across her face, a reminder of how she’d looked at him the day his mother died, the day he’d thought he could turn her away and save her from the inferno between them.

  “Answer me or I’ll find out for myself.” He no longer had control of the green-eyed beast tearing its way through his chest.

  “Find out for yourself?” The momentary flash of fear vanished, replaced by cold, raw defiance.

  He pushed her to the couch where she landed on her back, before she tried to scramble up. He came over her, pressing her back into the leather, his body on top of hers, his mouth on her lips, his hands searching under her shirt. She bucked against him even as she returned his kiss. His hand surrounded her breast and squeezed, pulling a moan from her throat. He yanked her shirt open, buttons scattering over the couch and floor before the sound of ripping lace rent the air as he tore her bra away, and his mouth descended upon her nipple. She arched her body, forcing him to take more of her into his mouth as she clawed at his shirt, as desperate as him to feel skin under her hands.

  He couldn’t explain his reaction, why he couldn’t control himself, why he couldn’t stop himself from taking her. His only clear thought was she belonged to him. If he found her wet from a night with someone else, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He pushed his hand into her pants. Anger and jealousy slapped at him when he found her naked underneath. He plunged his fingers into her, and she tightened around him as her nails dug into his back and her body arched.

  She cried out, moaning words he couldn’t make out, and her body shuddered underneath his. He dragged her pants down her hips and over her ass.

  “Now.” She tore the button of his slacks open and shoved them down his body. “All of you, inside me. Now.”

  He pushed into her, stilling for a moment as her warmth surrounded him.

  “Oh God.” Her chest fell as she exhaled.

  He sank deeper into her body, as she slipped deeper into his soul. Fisting his hand in her short wig he drove into her, searching her face for the parts of Gretchen he loved most. “Did you?” Even with the contacts, he could see the dazed pleasure in her eyes. “Tell me.”

  She shook her head, lifting her hips to meet each of his thrusts.

  “Say it,” he demanded desperately. “Gretchen, please.”

  “No. Just you.” Her head fell back. “God, there’s only you.”

  Her muscles tightened around him as she surrendered to her orgasm, even as she refused to surrender to him. He took her mouth again, suddenly afraid of what he might confess if he continued to watch her come undone as she pulled him over the edge into his own release.

  Afterward she lay beneath him, content as a cat curled in his arms, but he didn’t rest. His stomach rolled with disgust. How could she lay against him? How could she stand to touch him after the way he’d treated her? />
  He’d always known he didn’t deserve her, but he’d sworn he wouldn’t hurt her, and tonight he’d broken that promise. He loved her, he knew he did, until he physically ached when he was without her. So, why had he been so rough? Why had he treated her like any of the other women he’d screwed over the years, when he’d never been able to deny, even to himself, she was different?

  He pulled away, ignoring how her body moved with him and the slight moan of disappointment that passed her swollen lips.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Where are you going?” Gretchen sat up, watching Finn put his clothes back to rights. She had to remember that despite the pleasure he could bring her body, he could, and likely would, destroy her heart.

  Instead of answering, he buckled his belt and turned to her. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

  Tomorrow, not tonight. This would be the first night they’d leave the club separately. She nodded.

  He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve got to do some things tonight, or . . .”

  She swallowed the hurt and stood from the couch. Of course, he had things to do. “No worries.” She pulled out every skill she’d ever learned about acting while undercover and forced a smile. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  She turned away, taking a bra out of her bag to replace the one he’d torn. “He was my partner.”

  “What?” His warmth enveloped her when he came to a stop right behind her.

  She resisted the instinct to lean into him. “The guy tonight, he’s my partner. He was checking in. We didn’t do anything.”

  Finn’s body slackened, and he sighed, pushing out the tension holding his body in leash.

  She turned on him. “Tell me, did you feel anything besides pissed off?” She searched his gray eyes for any indication he’d felt even a fraction of the pain she’d felt when she saw him touch Ronnie. He stared blankly back at her. Emotionless, when she desperately needed a sign to show he cared.