Dare to Surrender Read online

  Ash could have any girl he wanted. If it wasn’t about the sculpture (and she prayed that it wasn’t), why had he called her? Was she being stupid? Was she simply an easy booty call and he was feeling horny?

  As she pushed through the front door of the bar and walked to the corner to catch a cab, she pulled the collar of her jacket tighter around her neck. Winter was on its way, and the streets still smelled like wet asphalt. The scent reminded her of driving to Palo Alto in the rain, of seeing Ash with his family.

  He was a good man. He wasn’t like the others.

  Still, as she climbed into the backseat of a taxi, she couldn’t help the little whisper of doubt at the back of her mind. What if she was wrong? And it wasn’t as if this was just any old booty call; this was different. Much different. This was new territory, involving rope and domination and submission and a whole bunch of other things she didn’t quite understand.

  All she knew was that she liked it. A lot. She knew she was starting to crave it, crave Ash. Every time she went to him, it raised the stakes, and she became a bit more vulnerable. He was in charge of so much: her job, her show, her body. Her heart. Yeah, he was slowly growing to hold so much of her life in his hands. The question was, was she ready to give him that much power?

  Chapter Twelve

  You okay?”

  Erica looked up from her beer. Kate and Scott had moved to the bar so Scott could chat up some Goth-looking guy, but Erica wasn’t in the mood to talk. With anyone, especially Blaine.

  If only he would take the hint.

  “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Blaine smiled gently, and Erica looked away from those knowing brown eyes. And she also ignored the way her heart beat just a little faster than it should. And why were her nipples getting a little tingly? Stop that! They didn’t listen.

  “Your little friend. You’ve looked ready to jump out of your skin ever since her boyfriend called.”

  Erica jerked her head up. “He’s not her boyfriend.”

  “Are you always this involved in her relationships?”

  “I told you. She’s my best friend, and I care about her. Why is that so hard for you to understand? And why do you care, anyway? Don’t you have something better to do? I bet there’s a Republican rally or something that could use all this energy of yours.”

  Blaine just held her gaze for a second before he spoke. “You have a real chip on your shoulder, you know that?”

  The alcohol loosened her tongue. “Yeah, well, I know your type, and I don’t like them.”

  He took a slow swig from his beer, and she couldn’t help but notice the perfect shape of his lips.

  “And what type is that?”

  She straightened. “Born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Never had to work a day in your life. Think you’re better than everyone because you have money.”

  “Is that so?” he said slowly. “You think you have me all figured out.”

  “Yes.” But her heart was racing. Suddenly she wasn’t sure she knew him at all.

  “And how do you know me so well?”

  “I… I just do.”

  He encircled her wrist with a firm grasp. “Is that so?”

  She couldn’t speak, so he jerked a nod.

  Scared. That was the only way to describe it when Blaine leaned forward until his face was only inches from Erica’s. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t breathe, and every nerve in her body was alive, aware.

  And she couldn’t move. She couldn’t move when she felt Blaine’s hand tighten around her wrist, and she couldn’t move when she felt his breath on her neck. She couldn’t think as Blaine leaned closer, so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck, her ear. Hot, seductive, and male—and sooo not preppy. He smelled like spices and beer, and the scent made something in Erica melt.

  “I like you, Erica. You’re an irritable, overly confident pain in the ass, but I like you. If you ever get past this hang-up of yours, I’ll be here.” Releasing her wrist, he trailed his fingers up Erica’s arm until goose bumps erupted on her skin. “But I won’t wait forever.”

  Speechless, Erica watched Blaine slide out of the booth and walk away.

  Finally, when her breathing returned to normal and her brain started functioning again, anger began manifesting itself in her chest. What did he know? Erica was the one who’d been treated like shit her entire life by the wealthy. Her mother cleaned their toilets, and Erica had served them food for fifteen years. The richer they were, the less tips they left. All the same.

  So why was she having this reaction to Preppy Boy?

  Temporary insanity. Brought on because when she watched him cook, it was beautiful. The guy could flambé like no one she’d ever seen….

  A tiny shiver raced up her back.

  I won’t wait forever. Blaine’s words ran through her mind and were still doing so that night when she got into bed, overriding her worry about Joy.

  By the time the taxi dropped Joy off in front of Ash’s place, it had started raining again. Obviously, he’d been waiting for her. He was immediately outside, ushering her into his loft under the protection of a big, heavy umbrella.

  When he closed the door behind them, she turned to face him with a bit of trepidation, not knowing what to expect. And when she saw the way he was looking at her, her heart skipped.

  He looked… serious.

  Yes, very serious. Oh, God, does he know about the sculpture? Just put me out of my misery, now!

  He was wearing low-slung jeans, a black T-shirt, and no socks or shoes. Even his feet were sexy: long and lean just like the rest of him. She pulled her gaze away from his feet to catch him running his hand through his hair, which promptly fell back into its disarrayed state. Her own hands curled with a desire to touch him, to hold his head as she kissed him.

  Unless, of course, he thought she was a thief, and then there would be no more kissing.

  “So, what’s up?” she asked, holding her bag close to her body.

  He pried the purse out of her fingers and then slipped off her jacket. When his gaze landed on her jeans, his eyes widened. “Wow. You look…”

  She felt her face go hot. Fat? Hippy? Plump?

  “Phenomenal.” He hung her jacket and purse on the coatrack. “You should wear those jeans more often. Like every day.”

  Self-consciously, she ran her damp palms over her thighs. “Really?”

  Smiling, he tugged her hand and led her to the alcove he used as his studio. On the way, she noticed his dining table held multiple computers and other electronic instruments that hadn’t been there before. She didn’t even know what half of them were.

  She didn’t have time to ask him about that, though, because soon he had her placed in front of a camera, and he was standing behind it.

  “Ash? What are you doing?”

  “Just looking.”

  “At me? Why?”

  “Because I’ve had this idea in my head, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “But what does that have to do with me?”

  “You said you want more pictures for a show, right?”

  “Yes, but not of me! I’d planned on talking you out of that part.”

  He straightened and his green eyes were amused. He knew he had her. “Too bad. That was the deal.”

  She stared back, something inside her going a bit crazy. Between the lemon drops, her friends’ words, and Joy’s own wacky feelings, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

  “Ash, what is going on here?”

  Pausing from loading some film into his camera, he looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “This.” She waved her hand back and forth between them. “You and me. You call me up, we have sex. Am I a fuck-buddy, a friend? A business associate? My friends say you’re going to hurt me. I don’t want to believe them, but frankly this whole thing is fucking with my head, and I don’t need another Englishman, banker, or drug dealer!”

  “Drug dealer?”

&n
bsp; “Long story. Anyway, I need to know something.”

  “What?”

  “Your intentions.”

  “Intentions?”

  She straightened her back. “Yes. I’m not asking for a commitment or anything like that, but is this a booty call?”

  “What? No! I just wanted to take your picture.”

  She gave him a look. “By any chance will I be naked in this picture?”

  He had the courtesy to shift on his bare feet, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Underwear?” he asked.

  The thing was, she wanted to do it. She couldn’t help it; the way he looked at her, the way he photographed her, made her feel beautiful, made her look beautiful. Made her see herself differently.

  And yet her self-protective instincts were screaming at her to run for the hills. Well, her instincts and three of her friends.

  “Ash, did you call me over here tonight just so you could… take a picture?”

  “I guess I did. Why?”

  Anger bubbled inside her. “I thought you had some kind of emergency. I ditched my friends.”

  She went to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry, Joy. I didn’t mean for you to do that. For me.”

  She met his gaze. “Then what did you mean? You call me at nine o’clock at night and tell me you have to talk to me.” She shook off his arm and went to snatch up her jacket and bag. “And, of course, I run right over. Just like with the banker.”

  “Banker? What banker?”

  Shrugging on her jacket, she said, “Just another guy who thought I should be so thankful he showed me any attention I had to drop everything I was doing at a moment’s notice and run to him. Kind of like you just did.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up her hand, stopping him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “It’s not like that, Joy.”

  Laughing wryly, she looked around his loft, at all the black-and-white images of female forms, female forms that were tall, skinny, and so unlike her own. She returned her gaze to his. “Then what is it like?” she asked, wondering why her throat felt so tight.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just when I get an idea, I can’t get it out of my head.”

  She turned away. “So call one of your supermodels.” The words sounded bitter, even to her.

  Spinning her to face him, he grabbed her shoulders in a tight grip. “I don’t want them.”

  Her throat was now closing down, constricting her voice. “Then what do you want?”

  The silence seemed to extend forever, and Joy held her breath. His green eyes roamed over her, taking in her body in one quick glance. “I want you to pose for me.”

  She tried to jerk out of his grasp, but he held her firmly, and she couldn’t move away. “Why me?” she finally whispered.

  “Because you’re… you’re…”

  “I’m…?”

  “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but a loud giggle escaped her lips. “What bullshit.”

  He looked confused and, if she didn’t know better, hurt. “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on,” she said, her gaze darting between photographs. “I’m nothing like what you’re used to. Nothing!”

  “I know.”

  Still, he held her shoulders, held her gaze. Her giggles died down until the only sound was the rain pattering against the windows.

  He leaned down until his lips were just barely touching hers. “I want to tie you. To my bed. Now.”

  “I thought you wanted to take my picture.”

  “I did… now I want… I just want you.”

  This was not part of her plan. However, a shudder of arousal went through her, landing right between her legs.

  Goddamn motherfucker shitwad. She was weak, couldn’t say no, not when his touch was shooting through her like lightning, lighting her up, exciting her. Right then she didn’t even care if it was a booty call.

  She wanted to call his booty right back.

  Kissing her, he pushed his way into her mouth, licking her lips, gently biting her tongue. Her bones went weak, but he was there, holding her, lifting her in his arms.

  “I want to please you, Joy.”

  “I want to please you, too.” And she did. The thought of giving herself to him made her breasts heavy, made her sex hot.

  “You do, baby, you do.” Once again, he carried her upstairs and gently placed her on the bed, following her down and laying his long body across hers, pushing her legs open with one strong thigh. She felt his jeans pressing against her clit, already swollen, throbbing for his touch.

  “Will you let me tie you, Joy? And then pleasure you?”

  How easily he persuaded her, how easily she melted for him. So much harder. This one is going to be so much harder when it ends. Because she’d never felt like this before—so free, so open. She’d never trusted a lover like she trusted Ash, and it made her so very vulnerable.

  Which prompted her to ask, “What can you promise me, Ash?”

  She saw the unrest in his eyes, saw the turmoil. Everything would depend on this, his answer. Whether she stayed with him, gave herself to him this night, allowed herself to be tied; it all depended on how he answered this one question.

  “I can’t promise anything, Joy, except what we have tonight. Right now.”

  She saw the regret in his eyes, and she gave him a watery smile. All she’d wanted was honesty, and that’s what he’d given her. All the others… they’d made promises, promises they never intended to keep. Now, something inside her swelled at Ash’s total honesty, even if it meant a broken heart in the end.

  Reaching up, she cupped his face. “Yes. Please, Ash. Do whatever you want. Take me.”

  Turning his head, he kissed her palm, and she felt his cock pressing between her legs, rubbing the sensitive flesh under her jeans. “Yes,” she said again. “Take me.”

  He pulled off her sweater and tossed it aside. His gaze landed on her breasts, and he leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth, his tongue wet and damp through the red lace.

  She arched underneath him as he sucked, tugged, and massaged her breast. Every nerve in her body sprang to life, and she moaned softly as he continued the blissful assault of her nipples and breasts. When he pulled her bra straps down, his gaze was intense on her body, unmistakably full of desire. For her.

  A surge of power rushed through her. Somehow, for some reason, this man wanted her. Wanted her to give herself to him, and she wanted it, too. Smiling, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra to pull it off her body. Taking her own nipples in both her hands, she teased herself, closed her eyes, and moaned. His eyes on her only made her hotter, only made the sensations on her breasts go straight through her to land in her sex. Without conscious thought, her legs opened wider, welcoming him to sink into the center of her.

  He kissed her collarbones, her upper chest, paused to suck a nipple in his mouth until she cried out. He made his way down her body, her stomach quivering when he placed a soft kiss on her belly button. She immediately tensed, but he ran a soothing hand over her hip, calming her.

  “When are you going to see how beautiful you are?”

  When I look in your eyes… But she just shook her head, ignoring the question. The last thing she wanted was to feel beautiful only because a man told her it was fact.

  He moved down to unbutton her jeans and slide them down her legs, leaving her lying before him in nothing but red panties. Normally this type of situation—lying exposed before a man’s gaze—would have made her squirm, beg to have the lights turned off. But this—-submitting, giving herself to him—felt too good to stop. It felt too good to be the center of this man’s attention.

  “Take off your clothes, Ash. I want to see you, too.”

  He knelt between her legs and tugged his T-shirt over his head. From this angle, she could just barely make out the wounded flesh of his upper shoulder, but now she saw several
more scars across his chest, as if he’d had numerous surgeries.

  Although she was curious, she didn’t ask. Not now.

  He climbed off the bed, and when he returned, he was holding four lengths of rope. Just looking at them sent a jolt of lust through her, and she felt her sex pulse.

  “Ash…”

  He stroked her hair off her forehead. “Relax, baby. Trust me.”

  Nodding, she bit her lip. She did trust him, and she wanted this, wanted it more than anything. She pictured the stolen sculpture, in her mind seeing the erotic pose, the woman’s arms bound, her head thrown back, and a shiver tickled over her. She felt like that, like a piece of stone coming alive under Ash’s touch.

  And right then, that’s all she wanted to think about. “Yes, Ash. I trust you.”

  The thing that was tearing her apart was the fact that she knew he couldn’t trust her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Joy pushed the thoughts out of her head as Ash took one of her wrists and quickly bound her in the soft nylon. Although he was fast, the pattern of the rope was still beautiful, the knots artistic. After making sure it wasn’t too tight or constricting, he gently eased her onto her back and stretched her arm above her head and to the side. A few minutes later, she felt him tie it off to the far edge of the bed.

  Leaning over her, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. “How does that feel?”

  She gave it a tug, and while the rope wasn’t uncomfortable, it definitely felt sturdy and secure. Her heart raced as a slight bite of fear energized her. “It’s fine,” she said.

  He repeated the process on each of her ankles and her other arm, and as he restrained her limbs one by one, her nerves continued to feel as if they’d been electrically charged.

  By the time he was done, she was totally bound, totally helpless. Surrendered. Trembling.

  He stood back and looked her over, his gaze consuming her nearly naked, restrained form in one all-assessing glance. “Goddamn, Joy.” He reached down and spread her hair around her shoulders. “Hang on.” She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard him rummaging around and then the familiar click of his camera.