Seven Nights To Surrender

by Jeanette Grey

She couldn’t go through with this.

  He must have seen her decision slide across her face, because the questions around his eyes smoothed away. He pulled her down for another kiss. “It’s fine.” The words washed warm against her lips. He grinned. “I may die a little, but it’s fine.”

  And she couldn’t help it. She laughed. “I wouldn’t want that.”

  “A little death never hurt anybody.”

  She chuckled at the pun, unsure if it had been intentional or not, but then it didn’t matter anymore, because his mouth was warm and soft, the kisses tasting of heat, and of a fire barely banked. His hands traversed her spine and sides, slowly coming to rest on her hips. A shiver moved through her. Her body hummed with satisfaction, but want still pulsed through her veins.

  She wanted to give him something.

  With her eyes closed, she parted from his mouth to kiss down the line of his throat, rasping her teeth against the stubble on his jaw. It was rough, his skin salty and male, and the little spot of boldness in her grew.

  “Kate . . .” He threaded his fingers through her hair, neither pushing her up nor down so much as holding on.

  There was something more than want or need or even boldness going on here. Something like power.

  Her reservations slid away as she undid one button of his shirt and then the next. There was still the cotton layer of his undershirt beneath it, but she kissed her way along the center of his chest regardless. When she reached the bottom of his rib cage, she shoved the fabric up. His abdomen was firm and smooth. She nosed the lines of muscle, flicked out the tip of her tongue to taste the flesh beside his navel.

  With a deep breath, she pushed aside the open denim of his jeans.

  His fingers tightened against her scalp. “You don’t have to.”

  She looked up the length of his body, and God, his eyes. The sensation of power in her hands swelled. “Do you want me to?”

  He threw his head back, exposing the line of his throat, huffing out a sigh of laughter that sounded pained. “Fuck. More than anything.” He looked at her again, lifting his other hand to draw a fingertip along the edges of her lips. “Your mouth would look so good around my cock.”

  Her heart felt like it skipped a beat, and even sated as she was, her sex throbbed. She lowered her head, resting her brow against his hip.

  Then, before she could stop herself, she tugged the waistband of his boxers down.

  She’d seen him before. Touched him and let him come against her, but being so close was another thing entirely. He smelled like sex, and he felt like silk beneath her fingertips, searing hot and wet at the tip. When she skimmed her thumb down the length of him, the foreskin shifted, uncovering more of the dusky flesh beneath.

  Sated as she was, a tickle of arousal moved through her, and she was tempted to dive right in. To find out what noises he made when she was the one bringing him to the edge. But he’d been so patient with her, had taken the time to find out exactly what drove her mad.

  She barely recognized her own voice, deepened by lust, as she asked, “What about you? What do you like?”

  “Your hands on me.” His breath cut off when she curled her fingers around his base. “Fuck.” As she took a slow stroke up the shaft, his eyes slipped closed, his head tipping back. “Everything you’re doing feels good.”

  He looked amazing like this, the tendons in his neck straining, abdominals tensing.

  Heat spread through her. And suddenly she got it. Why he looked at her the way he did, why he seemed so desperate to touch her and make her come.

  A hot spark of understanding lighting off inside her, she tightened her grip, and fluid beaded up at his tip.

  “Everything you’re doing feels really good,” he revised, biting back a groan.

  Triumph echoed behind her ribs, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

  She let him go, drifting a hand over his thigh. She felt too hot all over, while at the same time prickles of cold dotted her skin.

  She dropped off the bed and sank to her knees between his legs.

  His moan was loud this time as she took him in the circle of her fist. “Whatever you want to do,” he said, sounding earnest, and like it was killing him not to tug her down and guide himself between her lips.

  So she turned it on him. “What do you want me to do?”

  He cursed aloud, fisting his hands into the bedspread beneath him. “I wanna fuck your mouth.”

  Lightning blazed through her abdomen and up her ribs. How would that feel? Part of her remembered exactly how it felt to be used that way, but this was different. Rylan was different.

  Rylan would make sure it was good.

  Still, she shook her head. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Lick it.” There was no hesitation. “Right at the head—yeah.” A noise punched from his lungs when she did just that. “Fuck, that’s perfect. Get your tongue all over me. Nice and wet.”

  He tasted like salt, marred by a hint of bitterness, but the warm feeling in her sex and in her chest more than made up for it. He put one hand on her shoulder, light and stabilizing. Just heavy enough to ground her to the earth.

  His thumb stroked over her collarbone. “Now open up. Let it slide inside. That’s it. Oh.”

  She knew this part. But it had never felt so good to her before. The way his hips flexed and the noises he made all fed the fire deep inside. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her lips around the solid flesh, taking him in.

  “Jesus. Looks better than I thought it would.” His other hand came up, fingertips soft against her lips where they were stretched around him. He stuttered out a long breath as she took him farther. “Fuck looking good. You feel . . . oh shit . . . wet and warm . . .”

  She remembered this—the weird shame of his praise and how it turned her on in spite of herself. She squirmed, pressing her thighs together.

  “You like sucking me?” he asked.

  Desire burned through her as she popped off long enough to nod.

  His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “So good . . .”

  He trailed off, letting silence fill in around them, pierced only by the soft, slick sounds of her mouth on his flesh. By his breathing and by how much she liked this. How much she loved it.

  “Move your hand,” he urged.

  And she loved that even more. The motion was easy, a wet glide as she followed her mouth with the tight curl of her hand, up and down. His hips rocked up into it, not enough to choke her. She followed his pace, and she was lost in it. Wanted so much for him to—

  “Baby—” he started. The muscles of his legs were coiled, his abdomen tight, and the way he sounded . . . “I’m gonna—” His fingers threaded through her hair, a light tug of warning as his voice cut off, the desperation in it making her burn.

  She stayed right on him. Let the first hot pulses coat her tongue, swallowing what she could. When he twitched and pushed her off, she swiped her wrist across her mouth and he growled.

  “Holy hell, Kate.” He hauled her up bodily, sitting up as he got her on his lap. He kissed his own release from her mouth, practically devouring her as he slid his hand back under her skirt.

  No easing in this time, thank God. His thumb pulsed over her clit, and she was too sensitive—he’d just made her come with his mouth, but when his fingers pushed inside, she all but sobbed against his lips.

  “Beautiful.” He broke their kiss to stare right into her eyes, his lips parted, gaze fiery as he worked her faster, pressed deeper.

  Her climax shocked her with how suddenly it came over her. Hot liquid boiled inside, and when it burst, she dug her nails into his skin. Buried her face in his neck and screamed.

  All she could think, as he held her, was that she’d never known.

  Twenty-two years old, and two partners under her belt, and how, how, how had she never known?

  chapter FOURTEEN

  Sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains over their window. They must’ve forgotten to pull the h
eavier shades the night before.

  Just as well.

  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Rylan turned over in the bed. Kate was still asleep, her hair mussed. She’d insisted on wearing a tank top and some pretty, lacy panties to bed, but the way the sheets were tangled around her, he could almost imagine she was naked.

  God, her skin was so smooth and soft. His morning arousal gave a little twitch, and he reached down to adjust himself inside the boxers he’d resigned himself to keeping on for her. All she’d had to do was give him that look as he’d been undressing.

  All she ever seemed to have to do was give him a look, and he was doing a whole host of things he normally never would.

  That should probably be bothering him more.

  She made a little sound in her sleep, snuffling and burrowing her face against the pillow. She was resting on her side, twisted away from him, the sheets tucked under her arm and rucked up across the middle of her thigh, leaving her long, bare calf exposed.

  He didn’t want to wake her, but he couldn’t resist. Propping himself up on one elbow, he reached his other hand out, skimming it along her shoulder and pushing her hair aside. A huff of a sigh escaped her lips, but she barely stirred, so he shifted closer.

  His chest fit to her spine like they’d been made to lock together that way, and he set his lips to the side of her throat. Trailing a line of soft, sucking kisses along that sleep-warm skin, he let his erection graze her rear and swallowed the groan the contact pulled from him. If they were fucking already, he could pull the panel of her panties to the side. Be buried in all that nice, slick warmth. Take her nice and slow, rocking them to a sweet morning peak.

  If they were fucking.

  He breathed his want into her skin and grazed the backs of his knuckles down her arm. She hummed, finally showing signs of life as she let him entwine their hands.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Early.” He had no idea, honestly. All he knew was that she was beautiful, and she felt so good against him. He could stay there all day, kissing her and trailing his hands across her skin.

  But Kate had other things in mind. Lifting her head, she glanced around. “Ugh, it’s after eight,” she said, flopping back down and covering her eyes with her arm.

  That had him looking for the clock, too. He never slept so late. Sure enough, though, the bright red numbers read 8:17.

  Huh.

  He shrugged, then resituated himself on his stomach, his hard-on pressing into the mattress as he held himself over her, dipping to kiss her cheek and her ear and her chin. “Day’s a-wasting?” He peeled her hand away from her eyes.

  But what waited for him wasn’t the easy flirtiness he’d been hoping for. Instead, there was actual anxiety. “Yeah, actually. It kind of is.”

  “Nothing opens until nine anyway. So we grab croissants to go. No harm done.” He leaned in to kiss her mouth.

  She let him, for a minute, but all too soon she was pulling back. “We should get up.”

  “I like getting down better.”

  “Ugh, do you ever stop?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  She was a mess of mixed signals, body melting beneath his kisses even as she was pushing him back. She half sat up. “Do you want first shower or should I?”

  “We could share.”

  He’d love that. She was always putting her damn clothes back on. Even when she let him get her naked, it was never for long. In the shower, he could touch her all over. Wash her back. Maybe warm her up enough to let him get his hand or his mouth between her thighs.

  Or maybe not, considering the look she was giving him.

  “What?” he asked. “I hate to waste water, is all.”

  “You hate to waste an opportunity to get me undressed.”

  “Waste is a sin in all its forms.”

  Rolling her eyes, she put her hand right in his face and shoved him away. Apparently, she really meant it this time. She got her legs under her and clambered off the bed, heading toward the bathroom.

  “Kate—”

  She closed the door behind herself before he could say anything further.

  Well, great.

  He lay down again on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The light on his phone was blinking, but he didn’t want to deal with any of the shit that could be waiting for him. The people from his father’s company. McConnell, with his casual updates that fulfilled his duties while making it perfectly clear he’d be happy if Rylan stayed away. Or Thomas with his even worse entreaties to return and set things right. His sister. God, Lexie was the worst. He missed her fiercely, but the only thing she could talk about these days was how much he was letting her down.

  He was letting them all down, but they could rot. He’d given them enough. Someday maybe they’d understand that. Until then, they could all wait another goddamn day—or another year. He stretched an arm out to flip the screen over so he wouldn’t have to look at the alert.

  In the other room, the water for the shower turned on, and he clunked his fist against the headboard. His morning wood had subsided a little, but it wouldn’t take much to get it going again. Just thinking about Kate standing underneath the spray, soap bubbles clinging to her curves . . .

  “You coming?”

  He startled, sitting up all at once. Somehow, he’d missed the door opening again. And there she stood, leaning against it, invitation written all over her face.

  “Hopefully I’m about to be,” he mumbled under his breath.

  He tossed the sheets off and launched himself out of bed. A handful of strides, and he was on her, picking her up and spinning her around. When he set her down, it was with one hand coming to cup the back of her neck, pulling her into a long, filthy kiss. She didn’t fight him this time, so he reached for the hem of her top and pushed it up.

  “What’s your hurry?” she asked as she let him lift it over her head.

  “Told you. Hate to waste water.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Her underwear and his followed quickly enough. His erection pressed against the soft skin of her abdomen and he groaned. “Come on,” he said, tugging her toward the shower. “Before I have to eat you out on the countertop.”

  “Is that supposed to dissuade me?”

  He didn’t even know.

  Somehow or other, they managed to get the shower curtain shoved aside. He climbed in, barely letting go of her as he dragged her in after. Around them, the water threw up little licks of steam as it beat down on their skin, and it was perfect.

  It got even better when she reached between them and got a hand around his cock.

  “Fuck.” He bit down harder on her lip than he’d meant to.

  “Okay?” she asked.

  “So okay.”

  He kissed her and kissed her, curling his hands around her tits. All slippery with water, they fit just right in the palms of his hands, and they pebbled up nice and hard when he stroked her nipples with his thumbs. She made the best little noises, too, and what had been starting to look like a letdown of a morning was positively rosy once she got a good rhythm going.

  Letting go of one of her breasts, he felt around blindly behind his back until he connected with a bar of soap. He grabbed it and lathered it up, then wrapped his hand around hers. “A little tighter,” he urged, and fuck, yeah. “That’s right.”

  He rocked his hips, fucking into their fists, and with the soap it was all easy and slick. He clutched her close, mouth open against her temple, urging her faster and faster until—

  The feeling came all the way from his toes, drawing his balls tight before exploding forward in a rush. He might have blanked out for a second, and his knees wobbled. He threw a hand out to brace himself against the tile.

  She laughed as he twitched. He was shockingly sensitive in her grip as she pumped the last of it out of him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he stilled her wrist, shuddering as she dragged her palm over the head before letting him go. He rubbed his fingers
over hers, smoothing the mess away, then caught her face in his hands.

  He kissed her, soft and grateful. “What brought that on?”

  “You seemed like you needed it.”

  Kind of an overstatement, but he wasn’t objecting.

  She turned her face away, looking down and kissing his chest. He wrapped her up in his arms and squeezed her tight.

  “Can I return the favor?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe tonight.”

  Disappointing, but not exactly a surprise. Loosening his hold, he pressed his lips to hers. “Definitely tonight.” He paused before he let her go; considering what she’d told him about her sex life before this, he wanted to make sure. “You know you didn’t have to do that, right? Guys can’t actually die of blue balls.”

  “I know.” She still wasn’t quite looking at him, but there was a sly smile spreading across her face. A new, different one from any he’d seen on her before. “I wanted to.”

  “Okay.” He kissed the top of her head and pulled away.

  He set down the bar of soap he’d somehow managed to hold on to through it all and perused the collection of little bottles lining the built-in shelf. When he found one that said shampoo, he picked it up and poured some into his palm.

  “Didn’t you bring your own?” she asked.

  “Yeah. But this isn’t for me. Turn around.”

  She leveled him with a questioning look but did as he’d asked. Her hair was wet enough from the time they’d spent messing around. With gentle hands, he started working the shampoo into it. The slowly forming suds smelled sweet. Not overpowering. Just nice.

  “I love your hair,” he said quietly.

  She shivered.

  He took his time, massaging her scalp, giving her the attention she’d given to him sexually, but in a different way. Taking care of her like this . . . it made something in his heart feel raw.

  He dropped his hands and shifted to put his back to the tile. “You can have the water.”

  She gave him another, different look, then snuck past him, tilting her head down into the spray.

  The water made the soap cascade along her curves, soft white washes of foam caressing pale skin. His body was still ringing with satisfaction, but looking at her made him want to start things all over again.