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Deep Surrendering: Episode Ten

Page 6

by Chelsea M. Cameron


  I couldn’t stop watching the way he moved around the kitchen. If he was trying to seduce me, it was working. The thing about Fin, though, was that everything he did was beyond sexy and designed to turn me on.

  He was a walking climax waiting to happen. Again. And again.

  “Something wrong?” he asked. I’d been caught staring.

  “You know there isn’t. I’m just appreciating the view,” I said, leaning against the counter. I wanted to make him hurt just as much as I was. So I put my elbows together and leaned forward in a way that I knew accentuated my chest. The shirt Sloane had given me was low cut in the front. She was good, that woman.

  Fin’s gaze lowered just where I wanted it and then he narrowed his eyes. The rain had made his hair curl more than normal and I longed to dig my fingers in it as he went down on me.

  “You’re being quite the tease, Mari Cherry,” he said, his voice low and in a tone that did things to me.

  “Oh, is this bothering you?” I said, standing up and stretching my arms above my head. The shirt rode up and gave him a little peek at my stomach. It also pushed my chest out again, drawing his attention to it. He took a step toward me and reached out, but I backed up.

  “No, no. I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” I was playing with him, but I’d have to put the brakes on pretty soon or else we were going to end up exactly where I thought we were going to end up.

  “You can’t be that way and expect me not to want you, Marisol. It has been a while since I’ve had you. I’ve spent hours upon hours imagining different ways to torture and pleasure your body. I may have also brought a few things back with me. Things you might like. Or you might not, but that wouldn’t bother me. I’ll make you like them.” He kept stepping closer and closer and I was powerless to back up again. Oops. I’d pushed things too far.

  It took everything inside me to put my hand up, palm out. The universal symbol for stop. Fin froze in his approach.

  “I’m sorry. I was just playing. I pushed a little too far. We shouldn’t. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. There are still a lot of things we need to discuss.” He listened to me intently, but it was hard to concentrate on his face when I could see that part of him (in his pants) wasn’t listening to me.

  Now that I’d seen that, it was even harder to concentrate on saying no. But I had to. Hopefully I could make both of us see that.

  Fin closed his eyes and stumbled back.

  “You’re right. Things are… this isn’t the right time. I never say no, but you’re right. I’m… I’m going to go back to making the… soup. Yes, soup.” He seemed scatter-brained, and I had to admit, I wasn’t all there myself. Once he wasn’t walking toward me anymore, I sagged forward on the counter again.

  “I feel like I’m melting,” I said with a sigh.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make up for this later. After we’ve talked and gotten everything out and made some decisions. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.” I quivered just thinking about it. Maybe we shouldn’t have come back here. We should have gone to a restaurant. A public place where it wasn’t as easy to say things like that. Also a place that wasn’t in such close proximity to his bedroom.

  “I think I’m going to go deal with my hair,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t want any help with the soup. Fin was as big a control freak in the kitchen as he was in the bedroom. I was more than happy to let him control both places.

  I went to the bathroom to cool off and fix my hair. There wasn’t much I could do about it, so I took it down and turned on Fin’s blow-dryer. It was way fancier than mine and dried my hair in a fraction of the usual time it took me. I half-expected Fin to follow me in and make another pass, but he didn’t and when I went back out to the kitchen, he was still cooking.

  “I’ll have you know that I nearly cut my finger off thinking about you just now,” he said with a little smile.

  “I’ll have you know that I nearly bonked myself in the head with the hair-dryer thinking about you. So we’re even. I could have given myself a concussion and it would be all your fault.” He shook his head and pointed his spoon at me.

  “You are pushing it, Miss Everly.” I loved it when he called me that. I loved all the nicknames Fin had for me. Hell, he could call me Garbage and I’d see it as a term of endearment.

  I stayed far away from him as he made the soup. He went back to talking about his trip, but they were all mundane details. He’d gone to a bunch of the overseas offices of his father’s company to collect the evidence he needed. He’d also stored some of it in various places around the world over the years, and had to collect that as well. It was quite an operation and I wanted to hear the entire story. It sounded like a novel. Something you’d see in a movie.

  The soup cooked and he spun his tale. I was absolutely fascinated by every word. And I realized that the more I listened the more I was in love with him. Every day I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my feelings for him and then I rose even higher.

  He paused for a moment and stirred the soup before testing it. He nodded as if it had passed the taste test.

  “I love you,” I said and he smiled at me.

  “And I love you.”

  “Say it again.” Sure, it was demanding, but I wanted to hear it at least a thousand times. Or maybe more. I’d probably never get tired of hearing it. He smiled wider and walked toward me. This time it was different.

  “I love you,” he said and took a step. “I love you.” Another step. He said it until he reached me. Looking down, he smoothed my newly-dried hair away from my face.

  “I. Love. You.”

  “Say it again,” I said.

  “I’ll say it as many times as you want. But first, I have one question.” I closed my eyes and inhaled his Fin smell. Yes. This was home.

  “What’s that?” I said, opening my eyes.

  “Will you, Marisol Everly, accompany me to the ball two days hence?” He was so formal that I almost laughed. “I mean, you already have a dress. I just happen to have a tux hanging around I might be able to dust off.” For a moment, I couldn’t speak. This was my dream, but the reality was even better.

  “Yes, Fin Herald. I will go to the ball with you.”

  Don’t forget to check out

  Deep Surrendering

  Episode 10

  when it comes out on January 22nd.

  The Noctalis Chronicles

  Nocturnal (Book One)

  Nightmare (Book Two)

  Neither (Book Three)

  Neverend (Book Four)

  The Whisper Trilogy

  Whisper (Book One)

  Fall and Rise

  Deeper We Fall (Book One)

  Faster We Burn (Book Two)

  Slowly We Trust (Book Three)

  My Favorite Mistake

  My Sweetest Escape

  (Available from Harlequin)

  Surrendering

  Sweet Surrendering

  Surrendering to Us

  Dark Surrendering

  For Real

  UnWritten

  As always thanks go to my editor, publicist, formatter and you for STILL reading this. It blows my mind that you’ve hung on this long. I know I was kinda mean to you with Episode Nine, so I hope this one made up for it. We’re nearing the end of this part of Fin and Marisol’s journey. I hope it’s been a good ride for you. It’s taken me to all kinds of unexpected places and I’m so happy that I decided to do this.

  Chelsea M. Cameron is a YA/NA and Adult New York Times/USA Today Best Selling author from Maine. Lover of things random and ridiculous, Jane Austen/Charlotte and Emily Bronte Fangirl, red velvet cake enthusiast, obsessive tea drinker, vegetarian, former cheerleader and world's worst video gamer. When not writing, she enjoys watching infomercials, singing in the car and tweeting. She has a degree in journalism from the University of Maine, Orono that she promptly abandoned to write about the people in her own head. More often than not, these people turn out to be just as weird as
she is.

  Find Chelsea online:

  @chel_c_cam

  chelseamcameron.com

  Chelsea M. Cameron (Official Author Page)

 

 

 


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