Surrender To Me (Surrender Trilogy Book 2) Page 11
I shake my head.
“What do you need?” she asks softly. Oh, that’s a dangerous question to ask right now. The finality of her question amazes me, like there’s no boundary, whatever I might ask of her.
She came back to me.
I park the Mercedes in the garage, and Penelope follows me into the elevator, a surprised gasp escaping her when she finds herself with her back against the wall, my mouth on hers, my hands all over her. I hardly remember the time between the elevator doors opening, and being in the master suite, lost in the sensations of her skin under my hands and lips, her appreciative sounds.
The darkness is fading.
I pull her dress over her head, and I reach into the drawer for the restraints. Penelope’s eyes snap open, but there’s no objection, just a hint of speculation. “This is what I need tonight,” I say. “Please?”
Without a moment of hesitation, she nods, and I continue until she has very little room to move. I have to admit that part of me was comfortable keeping her behind locked doors, as it’s almost inconceivable that she’d want to be with me otherwise. Smart, a kind soul, Penelope isn’t that much interested in my wealth, and sometimes that makes me fear that I have nothing much to hold her…but I do. Her eagerness, her will to lose herself in this shared dream, to yield, it’s everything I need, and sometimes, like today, I need to have confirmation. I finish with the blindfold, and then, for a moment, I lie beside her, content to run my fingers over her beautiful body, an instrument I’m just learning to master.
No, not that way. Neither of us cares much for the lifestyle, but we take care of each other’s needs. I love that she’s trembling underneath my touch, straining against the restraints. She remains silent though, leaving the pace to me. It’s slow, sensual, teasing…almost tickling. My fingers are glistening with her arousal. She moans, can’t stand it any longer—neither can I. I move to cover her body with mine, reach between her thighs, my lips on her neck as I open her up to me, pressing my fingers inside. It’s not slow from here, need and a deep, burning desire taking over. I gave her a ring and a job—I’m not sure if I can make her any more mine, but for the sake of my sanity, I have to try. Penelope whimpers, her body squeezing my fingers with the intensity of her reaction, and I can tell she’s almost there…
“Thank you. I love you so much.” More than she could ever imagine. The words do the trick, her hips jerk, and she’s falling into that impossible state of perfect pleasure, helpless in my hands.
I carefully remove the restraints, spooked all of a sudden, because the image of Baxter, the warehouse, flashes in my mind. The darkness is never that far away.
“What’s wrong?” Penelope asks, concerned. She sits up, wincing a bit.
“Nothing.” Denial is swift and for now, the best option, since I have no idea how to explain those damn mood swings to her. Who am I to push her around like this, take her away from her job and her friends whenever I feel like it, still? Maybe she can’t be the one to chase the darkness from my life, maybe she deserves better.
“That’s not true.”
“Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe I am worried that there will come a day when you’re tired of all of this. This is who I am, and I’m not going to change. You…you mean everything to me, but maybe that’s too much to ask of a person. It’s pretty selfish when you think about it.”
“Carter.” She wraps the sheet around her, gets to her feet. “What do you think this is? I’m married to you. I’d like to know more about every part of your life, including those undercover operations you do, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, I’ll respect that. I know the past few days haven’t been easy, but that has nothing to do with us.”
She steps behind me when I don’t answer, wrapping her arms around me. I can’t help thinking that there’s something wrong with this picture. I’m the one who’s supposed to protect her with all that money and power I own, from a nasty world that spits out individuals like Laydon or Baxter. I don’t feel like I’ve done a very good job, and sometimes, I’m not even sure which part of that world I belong to anymore. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into the shadows.
“Doesn’t it?”
“Don’t,” she says. “You have to understand—I can’t make you a better person.” In her embrace, I flinch. “That’s not how it works, and that’s okay. You do all of it yourself. You’re amazing, and you help so many people. There’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Not even when I take whatever I want from you, whenever I want it?”
She snuggles up against my back, and there’s a smile in her voice when she says, “It’s not like I’m not enjoying myself. I hope you could tell.”
“It was kind of hard to miss.”
“Good. Something else, I didn’t have the chance to finish my wine earlier. Maybe we could have a glass now, and I’ll show you later just how grateful I am to have you in my life?”
This is not the end of my questions, or hers, but I’m willing to go with her suggestion.
* * * *
The next few days pass in a quieter, more relaxed fashion. My lawyers are on the case, and after giving my statement to the local police, I don’t expect to hear from them again regarding Baxter. He’s the kind of guy who’d be mortified about being punched by a woman in a cast, so he’s probably not going to make a big deal out of it. A big deal, he’s not getting either. The only thing he now can hope for in exchange for names is to make his life in prison slightly more comfortable—Baxter doesn’t deserve that, but if it helps cleaning up Laydon’s spider web, we can all live with it.
After a few days, Colette comes down to have breakfast with us on a regular basis. I can tell she’s still wondering about my relationship with Penny, with less concern these days, maybe with a hint of jealousy.
“You know, I’m really grateful for everything,” she says, “but it’s probably time I get back to my own apartment.”
“About that. I have some property not far, and there are move-in ready houses and condos.”
Colette shakes her head, laughing. “Carter, you have no idea how this would look to people who don’t know you. I admit though that I’m not eager to go back to the old apartment, so actually, yes, I’d love a change.”
“Great. We can work something out about the rent, or maybe you’d like to buy it?”
I catch Penelope’s gaze, knowing that she’s still marvelling about how easily deals like this are made. This is the easy part. I think we’ve done all we can for the moment.
Maybe it’s time to schedule the honeymoon for real, with a little detour—of course—but first, there’s Valentine’s Day.
Neither of us can really take the day off, but there’s the weekend. I plan for the evening activities, Penelope has asked me to leave the rest of the day to her. I wake up to her kissing her way down my body—so far, so good. I know it’s not easy to prepare a surprise for me since I’m such a control freak, but I can do this, let her take the lead every once in a while. Strands of soft hair are tickling my thighs, and my mind, sleep-heavy only a moment ago, snaps to attention. My body does too. I woke up wanting her, watching her is too much to bear, and it’s not long before I give in to the fireworks of sensation. Penelope looks up at me with a gentle smile.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says. “Now let’s have breakfast, okay?”
She used to be shy and self-conscious about Marlene bringing breakfast into the bedroom when our early activities are so obvious, but I realize she has planned this with my chef and trustee. I’m impressed—and hungry, so for once I indulge in the abundance, fresh fruit, crêpes and whipped cream, croissants and café au lait. Penelope told me she’s never been to Paris. I’ll have to take her someday soon.
I sense her intention, the idea to have a bit of time untouched by all the recent events, though I’m not sure that’s possible. I enjoy everything she’s prepared for us, the spa day, spending time in a warm spring and in a hammock next to a fireplace, then a cou
ple’s massage. I still think of Colette, and Baxter, and that he got off easily. We got to him though. That’s all that matters. Colette will have therapy as long as she needs, no red tape to deal with, and a new home too.
For dinner, I take Penelope to a hotel that has a restaurant on the top floor of the skyscraper. She’s wearing a red dress and heels, and a set of lingerie that I can’t wait to see again.
Life has never been better.
Chapter Thirteen
Penny
Six months of married bliss. I feel like celebrating. Judging from the roses on my desk this morning, Carter does too. I have learned so much in those months, about her, about me, where to draw the boundaries. I have resigned to the fact that she’s not going to tell me every little detail about those sideline operations—I know I’m doing my part by learning as much about the business as I can, doing my own job, being a partner.
Bit by bit, I’m beginning to adjust to my new life, and to my relief, my friends and family are too.
We take another shot at planning the honeymoon. I feel a bit apprehensive about the long flight—the luxury of a private jet doesn’t make it any shorter, just more comfortable—but this will be our first real vacation together, no business. I’m excited to see the resort I’ve looked up many times on the internet before, when I didn’t know her, when there was no chance I could afford this.
At night, I sit with my back against the headboard, surfing the net. Carter watches me with an affectionate smile when I pull up the site on my tablet again.
“Don’t worry, a couple of weeks from now you’re going to swim in that water. I promise.”
As most of the time, I can tell when there’s something else, and I look up at her. I hope it’s not something bad. I kind of enjoy the quieter time we’ve had together, no kidnappings, no sudden calls. I’ve passed tests and job evals, and life is on track.
“I have to do one more business trip,” Carter says. “It’s a conference for employers with better models for female employees. One keynote speech, and the rest of the time will be just for us. If you don’t mind all the flying, you could come with me.”
“Where is it?”
“Paris. We could come back via L.A., and go straight to Bora Bora from there.”
She laughs at my baffled expression and leaves for the bathroom as I put the tablet aside and get under the covers. There will always be surprises in my life with Carter Forbes, and fortunately, most of them are good ones. She’s more relaxed now, too, that Colette has moved into her own apartment and apparently, all the bad guys are behind bars. She believes me when I say I’m in it for good, and that’s all that counts.
* * * *
Carter is off to some sort of rehearsal for her speech. She says she doesn’t want to bore me with it, so she leaves after a champagne breakfast in our suite while I get to explore the area around our hotel a bit more. From the bedroom, we have an amazing view of the Eiffel Tower, and it’s only a few minutes’ walk to the famous landmark. I hope we can come back later, or tomorrow even. We’ll stay three days in the city before it’s back to L.A., and off to white sandy beaches and turquoise water from there.
I have another couple of hours before we meet for lunch, and I decide to browse the boutiques nearby. After all, I’m still earning my own money, even if one of her employees signs off on the pay check. I stop by a small café and order a café au lait, reminded of my old job as I’m watching the busy waiters. Next, I turn my attention to the pictures I’ve taken, realizing those of our previous trips are still on my phone. I’ve never traveled this much in my life—how would I have been able to afford it anyway?
My life is so different now. I’m still not sure what I have done to earn all this, but I enjoy it. I don’t ever want to go back, to the idea that this was all I could ever be. I’m only an intern in Carter’s firm, but already I can do so much more than I ever imagined. She made all that possible for me. I smile to myself, my face heating as I think there’s got to be more of a way to give back to her than fabulous sex.
I find a picture that we’ve taken during our time in Nice, a selfie it took me some time to talk her into. In the end, I succeeded, and as I look at the two of us, I can’t help smiling. It’s a rare moment, Carter being this relaxed. I know we’re happy, together, in the life we have, but I’m also aware there’s a weight on her shoulders. I’m thrilled that she can be like this, with me.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help notice you have some great photos there. You have a real talent.”
The woman is sitting at the table next to me, late thirties maybe, speaking English with an accent I have yet to identify. I didn’t notice her before. Her compliment makes me blush.
“Thank you.”
“You know, I work in a store not far from here. We happen to sell beautiful frames. Maybe you’d like to bring one of them home.”
Oh, great, so much for the praise of my skills. An instant later, the thought springs to mind. Of course, Carter can afford pretty much any painter or photographer whose art she enjoys. She has some black and white prints in her office, art at home…It’s not easy to find the woman a gift. I just might have succeeded.
“I’d like to take a look,” I tell her. “Do you know a pharmacy around here where I could print a photo?”
“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”
I’m so excited about the prospect now, I pay my beverage and follow her outside where she gives me directions. “I think I can take it from here. Thank you so much.” I am grateful—I don’t necessarily want her to know that it’s not a shot of the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame I intend to frame.
“Oh, that’s no problem, let me just show you the store, yes? The pharmacy will be on the way as well.”
I guess there’s no harm in that. Besides, would she really recognize Carter—or me? I doubt it. We walk a couple of blocks while she introduces herself and asks me how I like Paris.
“I came as a tourist, and I never wanted to leave,” she says.
Cathy, that’s her name, has no idea that this trip to Paris has a complete different meaning to me than it would have years ago. Then again, maybe that isn’t the case. Isn’t it all about love? I am with the person I love, and I’m thrilled I’ll have a little surprise for her later, something that signifies well what we are to each other without being too obvious for other people.
“I can imagine. It’s beautiful.”
She walks me to the pharmacy and goes inside with me while I quickly get the picture printed. With Cathy’s help, this goes a lot faster than I could have communicated what I want to the clerk. I have the picture within minutes—next is the frame store, located in one of those charming buildings, and we step inside. Since the photograph is on the smaller side, it doesn’t take me long to make my choice.
“Oh, Penny, I’m so sorry.” I turn from the display to find Cathy looking at her phone. “I need to go.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I just forgot about an appointment. It was nice to meet you.”
“You too, and thank you for everything.”
She smiles. “No problem. Enjoy your time in this beautiful city.”
That will be easy. Using my mediocre French, I make my purchase, and the lady behind the counter puts the picture into the frame and gift-wraps it for me.
When I return to the hotel, Carter is doing some last preparations for her speech. Wearing reading glasses, completely immersed in her reading, she’s incredibly sexy. I’m happy to sit and watch for a while, until room service arrives with lunch.
She tosses the folder aside with a sigh. “I’ll be glad when this is over and we finally have some time to ourselves only. It seems like this is the first time.”
It’s true. Back in those days we spent at the Caribbean home, she promised to spend time with me to ease the transition, but even then, with all her careful planning, we were interrupted. Paris is not out of the world, but I believe that our time starts here and now. We earned
it.
“Are you nervous?” I ask. “About the speech?”
“I get stage fright sometimes.” Carter laughs, a bit self-conscious. I wouldn’t have expected this, but of course it’s utterly human. It makes me want to stand by her even more.
“You’ll be great.”
“I don’t have to be great, just do it. It’s one of those things where you bore people with facts and statistics, and they indulge you because they get free food and drinks afterwards.”
“I know you will be,” I insist, making her laugh. “Is there anything I can do to help you relax?”
“Maybe later.” She holds my gaze, smiling. “Definitely later. Thank you for being here.”
I don’t quite get the serious tone. “Where else would I be?”
“We’ll be flying around the world in a matter of days. I’d understand if that was a bit much.”
That’s almost funny. I used to have expectations like to be able to quit the waitress job eventually, move into a nicer apartment, travel a bit—everything that happened, every day of my life is ‘a bit much,’ and I enjoy it. I’ve come to think that sometimes, people are lucky, and there’s no special requirement of what you have to do to earn that kind of luck. Act wisely. I think I do, trying to forge a career in a place where I can help others, women in particular.
“I didn’t want you to be alone in Paris,” I say, which is a big part of the truth. I didn’t want to be home alone either. It’s because it’s hard for me to be separated from her, and because things happened when I was…but all of that is behind us now.
“I have a little surprise for you,” I say. “Of which I’m proud, to be honest, because it’s not easy to surprise you. It’s also not really expensive, so I hope you like it.”
Just like I hoped, the smile lights up her face, and just like I hoped, Carter sees the significance as well.