Seven Nights To Surrender

by Jeanette Grey

  She twisted and fucked herself back onto his cock, hand flying between her legs. It had his balls tensing, ready to shoot, but he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

  “Come for me. Squeeze me. Let go, Kate. Come all over me, make me come, give it up and—”

  She cut him off, crying out his name, and fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it felt even better than he’d thought it would. He sped his strokes, shifting his hand to hold her by the hip. Giving into the heat and tightness of her, the feel of her all against his front. The smell of sweetness and sex, and just her.

  “God, Kate—”

  His whole world went dark as he released himself into her, fucking forward with a few last strokes until the sensitivity got to be too much. Buried within her, he stilled, just trying to fill his lungs. After a long few breaths, he forced his fingers to uncurl, petting her flank and hoping he hadn’t grabbed her hard enough to bruise.

  It would be just one more thing to feel guilty about, if he’d left any marks on her skin.

  As gently as he could, he wrapped his arm around her, tucking her close. They lay there together like that in silence until he started to go soft. Wishing he didn’t have to, he drew back, slipping from her warmth and pressing his lips to the point of her jaw.

  Before he could get any farther, though, she twisted around, lifting up a hand to touch his face, tugging him down again to meet her mouth with his. It was a soft kiss, a serious one.

  He pulled back after a long moment. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He opened his mouth to ask if she were sure, but what right did he have to press? “Okay.” He leaned in for another kiss before drawing away, rolling over to the edge of the bed. Keeping his back to her, he scrubbed a hand through his hair and rose.

  The sex had been amazing, and he’d done right by her. He’d given as much as he had gotten. That was the line he had to walk, these last two precious days with her. He’d hold his tongue, and he’d be so, so good to her.

  Then at the end of them, he’d let her go.

  “So,” Rylan called from the other room. “You ready to hear my awesome plan for the day?”

  Kate’s hand tightened around the bottle of ink she’d been returning to her bag. In theory, she was out here getting dressed while Rylan shaved, but then she’d gotten distracted by her art supplies and by thoughts of where she might like to go to sketch this morning. His question stopped her cold.

  She already had plans for the day. Good plans.

  Plans designed to distract her from the twisted-up mess that had become her feelings for Rylan.

  Laying herself out for him the night before had left her feeling so much lighter. She’d let him into her body and her heart and even her mind, and it had been amazing.

  But it made the reality of letting him go even more impossible to bear.

  “What’s that?” she asked, setting the ink aside.

  Kneeling beside her suitcase, she fished out the cleaner of her two pairs of jeans. She ducked behind the bed, checking she was out of Rylan’s line of sight before sucking in her stomach and tugging them on.

  “Remember how I tried to talk you into going to Versailles yesterday?”

  Damn, she did remember that, now that he brought it up. She frowned, pausing with her hands at her waistband.

  The simple truth was, she didn’t want to go to Versailles. Sure, the history of the place was appealing, but everything she’d read said it was overpriced and overcrowded. It wasn’t the kind of history she was interested in anyway.

  “Vaguely,” she said, shaking out a shirt. She shrugged. It wasn’t too wrinkled.

  In the bathroom, the water ran, the sounds of the razor clinking against the porcelain telling her he was almost done. By the time he joined her in the main part of the room, she’d gotten the shirt on and her wet hair combed out. She tried not to stiffen when he came up behind her and put his hand on her hip.

  If he noticed the tension in her body language, he didn’t point it out. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. His body was so warm. It sent a shiver through her.

  “I’ve been thinking about it some more since then.” He rocked them gently side to side. “Imagine it. Train ride out into the country. Big old fancy rich guy castle. Dinner at a little château somewhere, away from all the traffic and noise. It’ll be romantic.”

  That was the last thing she needed. He’d swept her off her feet with the most casual of gestures. If he actually tried to woo her, she didn’t know how she’d survive it.

  She let that doubt creep into her voice. “I don’t know. I only have today and tomorrow left.”

  It hurt just thinking about it.

  “I know,” he said, more serious than she’d expected. “Which is why I want to show you the best time I can. Before you go.”

  God. Did his voice sound as wistful as she felt?

  Scolding her overeager heart, she squirmed her way out of his embrace. “Rylan . . .”

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He shrugged, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I just thought it would be nice.”

  He turned around and padded over to his bag, dropping the towel when he reached it. The view of him from behind was as good as from the front. Maybe better. She got lost for a second, staring, remembering herself only once he’d pulled his boxers up to cover his rear.

  She snapped her gaze away, taking a couple of steps backward to fall into the chair beside the bed.

  “It’s just . . .” She worried the inside of her lip between her teeth. She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t want to go to Versailles; he’d just come up with another, better plan. Admitting she was afraid to spend more time with him wasn’t really an option, either. Which left . . . “I told you all the stuff I have to figure out this week. With grad school and art and jobs and stuff.”

  “And I told you. You’d be crazy not to pursue what you love.” He looked at her over his shoulder as he shook a pair of jeans out, his tone all matter of fact. “And what you’re amazing at.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why not?” He stepped into the pants and tugged them up, fastening them before turning around.

  Where should she start? “It’s just . . . not. I’ll have to take out loans if I go to school, and then am I ever going to be able to pay them off? Am I just wasting my time?” Surely he had to understand that. “I have friends who did the grad school thing and ended up at ad agencies afterward anyway, but two or three years older and saddled with these massive piles of debt.”

  “They aren’t you.”

  She snorted. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Then let it be easy.” He hopped up onto the bed and stalked across it until he was on the opposite edge, right in front of her, their knees close enough to touch. He held out his hands, and she slipped hers into them. His eyes looked so sincere. “Listen. If you really think another day of working in your sketchbook will help you figure out your future—where you should be, what you should do . . .” His throat bobbed, and there was another layer of meaning, one she couldn’t quite grasp. “Then that’s fine. Do it.”

  “I just . . .”

  “But,” he interrupted her. “I think you already know what you want to do. It’s just battling with what you’re afraid you should do.” The stroking of his thumb across her knuckles paused, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. “What you think other people expect you to do. And all the time in the world spent thinking about it isn’t going to change that.” He shrugged, expression clearing. “In which case, come take a trip with me. Let me show you some pretty things and try to make out with you in inappropriate places.” Squeezing her hands, he smiled. “Choice is up to you.”

  He had no idea which choice was killing her the most right now.

  Regardless, she wasn’t ready to admit defeat quite yet. She drew her hands back and let out a long sigh. “Let me finish getting ready and think about it, okay
?”

  He didn’t seem to like that answer, but he nodded anyway. “Fine.”

  By the time she’d dried her hair and gotten her makeup on, she wasn’t feeling any better about things. She planted her hands on the counter and stared into the bathroom mirror. Raising her voice so he would hear it, she asked, “Versailles is really expensive, isn’t it?”

  He popped his head around the doorframe, fully dressed and looking infuriatingly perfect. “My idea. My treat.”

  She frowned. “How can you afford this?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.” He put his hands on his hips. “Just make a decision, Kate.”

  Putting his insistence on treating aside for a moment—she was going to have to find some way to pay him back before she left; no chance she was letting him bankrupt himself for her—she pulled her mouth into a sideways frown, regarding herself again in the mirror. Weighing her choices. In her peripheral vision, she could see his reflection, too, though.

  He looked so ready to be disappointed.

  And who was she kidding, really?

  “Oh, what the hell.” It felt like throwing caution to the wind, like ditching class. And knowing you were probably going to get caught. She pushed the sinking feeling in her stomach aside. “I can always draw from photos when I get home, right?”

  The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Yeah?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  She could think of a hundred reasons, but really . . . he was right. She knew what she wanted to do, with her life and with him. What she should do, she could worry about later.

  And for the moment, she could almost forget about the consequences, as the biggest, broadest smile spread across his face. Brilliant and handsome, and all of it raining down on her. He darted forward and picked her up by her waist, spinning her around. “You won’t regret this.”

  She tried to echo his grin.

  She really, really hoped that was true.

  chapter TWENTY-ONE

  Okay. Rylan may have overbuilt this in his head a little.

  With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he caught Kate’s eye and tipped his head toward the next room. She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. They weaved their way past the horde of Korean tourists between them and the next doorway.

  They were coming up on the most famous parts of the entire damn palace, and Kate had yet to crack a smile.

  A couple more rooms and another tour group later—Japanese, this time, he was pretty sure—they spilled out into the lushest set of quarters yet. Dimly lit but glowing all the same, the bedroom was all bright gold draperies and gleaming wallpaper, every inch of it embellished by something, be it a fleur-de-lis or a curlicue or a sun. Hell, even the fireplace was lapis lazuli.

  This was it. Louis the XIV’s fucking bedroom, the centerpiece of this whole place.

  He turned to Kate, hoping for something, anything. “So?”

  “It’s . . . cool?” The corners of her mouth twitched up, but he knew when he was being humored.

  Fuck.

  Curling his hands into fists, he tried to see the place through her eyes. It was sumptuous and lavish and dripping with wealth.

  And it was useless. Hollow. Just like him.

  Beside him, she made an impatient noise and stepped around one of the tourists in her way. He followed her, reaching out to grab her arm. She started, like she hadn’t been expecting him to touch her, and his chest hurt.

  He could fix this. He would fix this.

  “Hey,” he said, leaning in close. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

  She looked at him in confusion. “Do you?”

  “I don’t know.” He didn’t care. So long as she smiled.

  “You were the one who wanted to come here, weren’t you?”

  “I wanted you to come here. And you don’t seem to be having a very good time.”

  He paused as a little white-haired woman tried to sneak between them. He barely managed to restrain himself from yelling at her to go around—couldn’t she see they were having a moment here? Ugh. Shaking his head, he motioned toward the next room and tugged Kate along as he headed off. She didn’t put up any protest, so she couldn’t have been too invested in the stupid Sun King.

  Of course the next room wasn’t any better than the last one had been, so he kept charging past everyone. They were missing all the most well-known stuff, but he didn’t care. Finally, he hit the end. He stormed down the set of stairs, only to have her wrench her arm back.

  “Slow down,” she hissed. She was taking the steps at half the speed that he had been, and it was a reality check.

  Restraining himself from saying anything or from rushing her any further, he stayed one pace behind her until they were back in the courtyard, breathing the fresh air.

  She rounded on him. “What got into you back there?”

  He shrugged, looking at the building behind her. “You looked miserable.”

  “I told you this isn’t really my thing.”

  “I know, I know.” God, he knew. “I’m sorry, okay, this was a shitty idea.”

  “It could have been worse.”

  “How?”

  The corners of her lips flirted with a grin, and it was like a weight coming off his spine. “There could have been a Russian tour group in there, too?”

  He barked out a laugh. Swiping his hand across his brow, he shook his head. “Look, I wanted to show you a nice time.” He’d wanted that so much. “But apparently I mucked that up.”

  For the first time since they’d gone into the palace, she stepped into his space. Put her hands on his chest and waited for him to look at her. “You didn’t muck anything up. No, this hasn’t been my favorite trip we’ve taken, but no one’s perfect.”

  “This was a really long ways from perfect.”

  “Everywhere else you’ve taken me has been.”

  He didn’t want to let go of the tension he’d been holding on to—the irrational panic, because they had so little time left, and he’d wanted to make the most of it. But when she pulled him down into a kiss, he couldn’t help it. His shoulders dropped, and the rigidity of his spine melted.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after a minute. He spoke over her when she looked like she was going to interrupt. “Not just for talking you into coming here.” He grabbed her hand and held it in his. “But for pouting like a four-year-old when you looked like you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

  “Apology accepted.” Lifting up onto tiptoes, she dragged him down to kiss his nose.

  He felt so much calmer now. Letting her go, he gestured at the palace behind them. “Do you want to try to get back in there? Walk around the gardens? Anything? Or do you just want to go?”

  “Were our tickets time-stamped?”

  If there was one thing his family had taught him, it was how to talk people into letting him do what he wanted. Sometimes it took a greased palm, but that wasn’t a problem. Still, he fished out his wallet and flipped it open, thumbing through the billfold for the tickets. He examined them for a second. “I don’t see anything that says we can’t go back in.”

  He looked up from the tickets to find her brows furrowed, and her gaze was on— He snapped his wallet shut.

  The back of his neck sprung out in a cold sweat. This whole week, he’d managed to remember to pay cash wherever they went, and in small denominations, not wanting to flash around his Amex or the amount of paper money he typically carried around. He’d opened his wallet up under tables or behind the cover of his jacket or his sleeve. He’d been so damn careful about it. And now here he was, flipping the thing open in the clear light of day and right under her nose.

  His pulse raced. Play it cool. Hanging on to the tickets, he slipped his wallet into his pocket. “So? Want to brave the crowds again?”

  She just kept staring at his hands.

  “Kate?”

  She shook her head, snapping out of it. “Huh? Oh, um. Nah. Though, I guess I wouldn’t mind looking around the g
ardens? It’s such a nice day, and we came all the way out here.”

  He had to stifle a sigh of relief. He still couldn’t quite escape the feeling that she’d seen through him, but until she brought it up, he sure as hell wasn’t going to. With a smile, he held out his arm for her to take. “Lead on, my lady.”

  She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow readily enough. But there was something contemplative to the way she kept glancing at him as they walked. Like she was looking at him just a little bit too closely.

  Lots of different credit cards looked the same.

  Kate reminded herself of that on a loop, every time the niggling bit of suspicion tickled at the back of her mind. She didn’t even know what a Black Amex looked like—how would she? But if it was as literal as it sounded . . . Well, then what else could it have been?

  She snuck a peek up at him. They’d walked a decent stretch of the gardens around the palace now—hopefully enough of it to make him feel a little bit better about things. She was just starting to think about broaching the idea of heading back to the city.

  He stopped her with a hand on her arm before she could turn around. “Hey.” He pulled out his phone with his other hand. “Remember this trick?”

  With that, he tugged her in, tucking her under his arm the way he had outside the Louvre on their very first day together.

  Something nervous fluttered in her chest. “When you convinced me to take a selfie as a flimsy excuse to get your arm around me?”

  “Yup. Say cheese.”

  She smiled the best she could, but as she did, she was looking at his phone. It was a new model. Fancy. Expensive.

  She shook the thought from her head once he’d taken the shot. He let her go and flicked back to see if the picture had come out all right. When he found it, he smiled, turning the phone to show it to her. “We look good, right?”

  They did. Tense but good. She nodded.

  He twisted his phone around to get both thumbs on it, holding it as if to type. “You never did give me your email address, you know.”

  She did know that. “Oh. Right.”

  “Do you not want the pictures?” He raised an eyebrow.