Sweet Surrendering

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “I’m good for now.” Crap.

  I decided that I wasn’t going to watch. Nope.

  But then the bastard started singing, “Sooner Surrender” by Matt Nathanson and my head snapped around at the sound of his voice.

  Oh, fuck me. Again.

  His eyes were half closed, his hair falling in front of them. And his voice. Oh, his voice touched me in places that a voice shouldn’t have access to.

  His voice crawled down my body and under my clothes and teased me, taunted me, pleasured me. Like he was making love with music.

  Alcohol. It had to be the alcohol causing me to be more turned on by a song than I’d ever been before. Everything else faded into the background as my entire being focused on him on that stage.

  The song ended, and the spell was broken, almost with a snap, and I was back to reality.

  And everyone was staring at me as my face flamed up.

  “You, um,” Sloane said, taking a sip of her drink, “you didn’t tell us he could sing.”

  “I . . . I didn’t know.” He sure didn’t put that on his résumé. Not that it would have made a difference.

  My throat was dry, but I was out of drinks. I should have gotten a glass of water.

  “I’m, I’m going to get another drink,” I said, getting up and hurrying to the bar without asking if anyone else wanted anything. I just needed to get away for a minute. Try to clear my head.

  “What did you think?” a voice said behind me as a warm hand lightly touched my back to tell me that he was here.

  I froze and didn’t answer, instead concentrating on trying to get one of the bartenders’ attention.

  “You seemed to, ah, like it,” he said, removing his hand, but he was still close. The fact that the bar was so packed could have been responsible, but I didn’t think it was.

  The bartender was completely ignoring me, and I had to get away from Lucas Blaine if it was the last thing I did, so I whirled around so fast, I nearly knocked him completely off balance and announced, “I have to pee.”

  There were worse things I could have said, I suppose, but the way he smiled in response to my declaration morphed his irresistible face into something that was somehow even more irresistible.

  Abort, Abort! I needed to bail, so I shoved him aside and headed for the ladies’ room. I swore I heard him chuckling behind me.

  Of course there was a line at the ladies’, so I was stuck standing behind two girls that were trying to prop each other up and doing that whisper-yell thing that drunk people do.

  I really didn’t want to break the seal and be peeing all night, but I had no choice. Once I was done, I snuck a peek back at the bar before I walked back to my table. No sign of Lucas Blaine. My eyes did a quick sweep of the rest of the room and found him in a worse place than at the bar.

  He was standing next to the table I had vacated a few moments ago, smiling and clearly flirting with all of my friends.

  They were all smiling and laughing at some joke he’d probably made and it was all I could do not to grab a pitcher of beer from the next table and pour it on his head. He probably would have loved that.

  “There you are! I thought you’d fallen in,” Marisol said when I finally made my way back to the table. I had no choice.

  Lucas’ eyes swept up and down my body, as if he’d just seen me for the first time instead of staring at me for hours.

  “Nope,” I said and moved to get back in my chair, which Lucas just happened to be standing next to. I went to pull the chair out, but he did it for me.

  “Need a boost?” He was making fun of me, the jerk.

  “No, I’m fine,” I said as I used the bar attached to the legs of the stool to vault myself into it. Doing so was none too graceful, but I had short legs and I was not accepting help from him.

  “So Lucas was just telling us all the reasons you should hire him. I swear, if you don’t want him, I could use an assistant,” Sloane said, looking at Lucas like she was going to lick him up and down. I gave her a death glare that he couldn’t see, standing on my other side, and she kicked me under the table.

  “You have an assistant,” I said, because it was true. She had plenty of college students that would work for nothing just for the chance at making it in the fashion world.

  “Mmm, but my assistants are usually female or gay and don’t look like him.” Lucas seemed to be swelling with the praise.

  “My God, if you make his head any bigger he’s going to fall over, and that wouldn’t be very attractive,” I said.

  “The only praise that would make my head swell would come from you, Miss Clarke,” he whispered so low my friends couldn’t hear it. Ugh, I hated how he called me “Miss Clarke” outside of the office. What was this, 1953?

  “Secrets don’t make friends,” Sloane said, leaning in, as if he was going to share what he told me with her.

  He did lean over to her and whisper something, but I didn’t think it was what he told me, because she gave him a look and then started laughing.

  “You’re right,” she said, nodding.

  What? What was he right about? Oh, this man was infuriating.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he said after I kicked Sloane under the table. She was going to be spilling her guts later when we got home.

  “You already did that,” I said, my voice flat. Even Chloe had dragged herself out of her breakup misery to watch my interaction with Lucas. We must be entertaining.

  “I could buy you another. Just say the word.”

  “Actually,” I said, turning toward him, “I’m a little tired, so I think I’m going to go home. Sloane, why don’t you come with me?” I grabbed her arm, forcing her to get off the chair and pulling her through the crowd.

  “Hey, it was just getting good,” she whined and pulled back against me. Where strength was concerned, Sloane would win, but I could always take her out at the kneecaps.

  “Please? Can we go?” She shook her head and dug her heels in.

  “I will go after you let him buy you a drink.”

  “He already bought me one.”

  “Let him buy you another. It’s not going to kill you.”

  Oh, Jesus Christ, Mary and Joseph. I was going to murder her.

  “One. Drink.” She beamed and dragged me back to the table where Lucas was wearing a similar grin. I wanted to slap it right off his face.

  Sometimes, you say you’re going to have one drink and you have one drink. Go home and wake up refreshed and hangover-free.

  And then sometimes you say you’re going to have one drink and one drink turns into two and the guy who has been buying you drinks and touching your back and your hair and making flutters in your stomach suggests that you go back to his place, and that also seems like a good idea (because of the drinks) and then you’re in a cab, on the way to his apartment with no idea how it happened. One drink. It was just going to be one drink.

  “I’ve wanted to do this ever since you walked around that corner in those red heels,” he said and reached for me across the backseat of the cab where I’d tried to put as much distance between us as possible while I tried to come to my senses.

  One of his hands reached out and gripped my chin, and he moved his face so close that I could count the freckles on his nose and smell the faintest hint of Scotch on his breath.

  “Don’t move,” he said and then his lips met with mine in a kiss so sweet, I was twelve again and at my first dance. Feather light and brief, he pulled away and the space between us was back. He looked away from me and out the window.

  The fuck?

  That was it? One little innocent kiss? That’s all he’s got? What was with this guy?

  I was fuming. Sitting in my seat with my arms crossed and fuming. All that teasing for nothing. He had to be screwing with me, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. I leaned forward to speak to the driver and tell him there was a change of plans before I gave him my address.

  “Change your mind?” he said when he
heard me tell the driver that I wanted to go to my own place. The driver sighed and looked for a place to make a U turn. This was probably for the best. This guy was not going to get the upper hand. This time I was shutting him down.

  This was the last time I was going to see him. I would rip up his résumé. I wouldn’t even have Mrs. Andrews call him to say that he didn’t get the job. It was a bitchy move, but I needed this guy out of my life. He made me feel unstable, and I did not like feeling unstable.

  “Yes. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have even let you buy me a drink, but Sloane made me.”

  “Oh, so this is Sloane’s fault. I see.” Now he was mocking me.

  “Look, I’m going back to my apartment and you’re going back to yours and I never want to see your face again.” Especially your chin dimple. And your eyes. And your hair.

  “Fine, fine with me.”

  He shrugged and went back to looking out the window. We were nearly to my place.

  “There is something seriously, seriously wrong with you,” I said.

  “Why do you say that?” He turned to me with a little smile.

  “Are you serious? You barge your way into my office and turn my interview upside down. Then you won’t leave me alone at the bar. You buy me drinks, suggest that we go back to your place, tell me that you’ve wanted to kiss me since you first saw me, and then you do kiss me—the most tame kiss ever—and now you’re acting like this is completely normal behavior. Yes, there is something seriously wrong with you.”

  “You thought the kiss was tame? Well, if you’re such an expert, why don’t you show me how I should have kissed you.” His eyes sparkled in the light of oncoming headlights. Ah, so this was his game. Okay, two could play at that. It was time to get the upper hand, so to speak.

  “Okay, Lucas Blaine, I’ll show you a good kiss.”

  I knew it was a terrible idea, but I had something to prove to him.

  Slowly, I crawled across the space between us and he turned as I climbed into his lap. Ha. I hadn’t even done anything and he was hard. I could feel it pressing against his jeans as I straddled him, putting both hands on his shoulders and then moving them down his chest. I let one hand rest on the growing bulge in his pants, and I shifted a little, so he was pressing harder against me. I wanted to get a little something out of this, too.

  Air hissed between his teeth as I moved the hand on his jeans and ground my hips, just a little. My other hand moved back up to his face, going around and tangling in his hair, wrapping my fingers in it.

  Yes, it was soft as I thought it would be. I pulled a little, moving his head back, and he made a sound in his throat.

  Good boy.

  I was pretty sure the cabbie had already passed my place, but he was probably getting as much out of this as we were.

  I lowered my mouth, but I didn’t kiss him. Not yet. First I kissed his cheek and then inched my lips a tiny bit lower until I was at the corner of his mouth. Then I switched to the other side. I could feel his muscles tensing and quivering under me. I was playing him like a violin. I was owning him.

  I sucked on his bottom lip and it was like something in him broke. I was thrown backward on the seat until he was the one on top.

  “I swear, if you don’t come back to my place with me, right now, and let me fuck the hell out of you, I am going to lose it, and you don’t want to see me lose it.”

  Our eyes locked and he started moving his hips against me. Damn. I missed having a man pressed against me, passionate, and lusty. Sometimes Royce would come visit me at work and we’d sneak away. But it hadn’t lasted. The fire had burned out in only a few weeks, and then it was like a chore. Royce was also more conventional than I was in bed. I’d suggest all kinds of things to spice things up, but he’d looked at me like I was a deviant and so I dropped it and tried to be content with missionary.

  Something told me Lucas Blaine would be game for anything and everything.

  The driver announced my stop and I had a decision. Lucas waited for me, pressing a little harder and making his intentions even clearer.

  “I changed my mind,” I heard myself say to the cabbie.

  “Drive,” Lucas said. His head dipped down, and I put my hand up to stop him from kissing me.

  “So I’m a good kisser then?” I said innocently as he opened his mouth and I slid my finger in.

  “I’ll let you know in the morning,” he said, licking the tip of my finger and giving me a devilish smile.

  In order to get out of the cab and up to his apartment, Lucas to climb off me; our legs got a little tangled and it was hard to do with grace. Red-faced Lucas gave the cabbie a fifty and told him to keep the change. I give him a wink and I definitely heard him chuckle as I tried to walk with some sort of dignity. It was a bit easier for me, because I wasn’t the one pitching a tent in my jeans. I laughed a little and shifted so I was standing in front of him as a few people passed by. Lucas used me as a shield, which made me start laughing and then I couldn’t stop.

  I doubled over, because I just couldn’t help it.

  “Well, this is a bit of an ego blow. You’d think this was my first time,” he said behind me, and I heard a tinge of embarrassment in his voice. Trying to keep a straight face I stood, turning around. It was dark, but I swore I could see him blushing.

  He was blushing. How unexpectedly adorable.

  There was a lurch in the bottom of my stomach that I didn’t really understand, but it made me stop giggling as if I’d been dunked in a bucket of cold water.

  “Something wrong?” he said, taking a step back from me, regardless of what was going on in his pants. “Not having second thoughts?”

  Oh, hell no. The sex was happening. I’d shut the door on my common sense about three drinks ago. Even though I knew it was a bad idea.

  “None,” I said, grabbing his shirt and yanking his mouth onto mine. Luckily, our teeth didn’t collide, but I almost sliced his lip open.

  I wrenched my mouth away after one fast, hot kiss that had me tingling from the tips of my hair to the ends of my toes and everywhere in between. It was a fire-starting kiss.

  “Let’s go,” I said, wobbling on my feet a bit and hoping he didn’t notice. I had been a hell of a lot more confident in the cab.

  He took my hand and I stared up at the building.

  “Wow, swanky.” It was a doorman building. A really nice doorman building. What the hell was he doing applying for an assistant job if he lived here? I didn’t even have a doorman and my building was pretty nice. Dad wouldn’t allow me to go “slumming” as he said it.

  “Let’s get you upstairs and into my bed, hmm?” It was like he was singing again, the way his voice slipped and slid over and under my skin.

  “Sounds good,” I said as he tugged me toward the door where the doorman gave him a smile and a “Nice to see you, Mr. Blaine.”

  I prayed that my hand wasn’t sweaty as he yanked me toward the elevator and pushed the button.

  “Maybe we could just take the stairs?” I said as we both stared up, waiting for it to come to us.

  “I live on the fourteenth floor,” he said with a grin. Now that we were out of the cab I was feeling shy and apprehensive. I must have left the vixen who’d climbed onto his lap in the cab. I kind of needed her back.

  “Finally,” he muttered when the elevator door opened. A woman exited and was nearly run over by Lucas as he dragged me inside. She made a huffy sound, but he didn’t apologize.

  As soon as the door closed, he shoved me so hard up against the back wall that I knew I was going to have a bruise. But I really, really didn’t care as his mouth claimed mine and I was pressed and connected with every inch of him.

  His hands held onto my face, as if he was desperate not to lose me. It felt So. Damn. Good. I hadn’t had anyone who’d wanted me this much in a long time, and I burned with it.

  We drank each other in and I barely noticed when the elevator opened and we were on his floor. He broke the kiss long enoug
h to pick me up in his arms and stride with purpose toward his door.

  Of course, in his haste to get me into bed, he forgot that he had to unlock his door, so he ended up having to put me down to get his keys out, and he fumbled with them.

  It was such a sweet moment that I almost started laughing again. But as I was about to cheer when the lock clicked and he kicked the door open, I was swept up in his arms again.

  I had a brief look at an open floor plan and lots of white and black and chrome before he kicked another door open and I was tossed on a giant bed covered in silky black cotton sheets, and then he was diving on top of me.

  It was like we were horny teenagers and he was worried that any moment his mom was going to come in. He seemed sure in some ways, but his fingers fumbled a little, and it just made me kiss him harder.

  Normally, I liked being with a guy who was willing to take control, who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it, but I liked this. It was new. It was like our first time ever and that made it better somehow, instead of awkward.

  In his haste to get my top off, he ended up ripping my shirt as he tried to pull it over my head.

  “Sorry,” he said against my lips.

  “No big,” I said. Who cared about the damn shirt? I could just buy another one. I couldn’t buy the way his hands raced over my exposed skin, or how it goose bumped in response. Now he was the one who had me eating out of the palm of his hand.

  He pressed his face in between my breasts and breathed me in. Oh God, I was hot already and he’d barely done anything. He slid the straps off my shoulders and kissed my skin through the lace of my bra, sucking and biting here and there. Yup, my skin would bear the marks of his mouth tomorrow. He raised his head and went back to my mouth, his hands going to my nipples, rolling them between his fingers as they ached for more.

  His shirt was giving me an issue. Too many damn buttons. I made a sound of frustration and his lips left mine.

  “Do you need some help?” His face was a smirk.

  “No, I got it. You just have a lot of buttons, and I’m a little distracted, okay? And I’ve been drinking. And I’m not really the kind of girl who has sex with guys she’s just met.” And now I was the girl who babbles during sex. To be honest, I hadn’t been this nervous about sex in a very long time.