Maya Banks - Sweet Surrender

“Over my fucking dead body,” Gray growled. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d been had.

Micah bent over laughing, looked up at Gray then dissolved into laughter again.

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

“Don’t you love it when a woman manages to twist you all up in knots?” Micah said around a bubble of laughter.

Gray briefly closed his eyes, as long as he could get away with as they zipped down the highway. This was a fucking mess. And he so wasn’t in the mood for Micah’s obnoxious joking.

Thank God it was Friday. He glanced at his watch. Or Saturday morning. He wouldn’t have to face Faith until Monday. But even then, he wasn’t sure how the hell he was supposed to look her in the eye.

“I’m so fucked,” he muttered.

Beside him Micah chuckled. Gray shot him another dirty look, but Micah regarded him innocently, a smug look on his face.

“Sure you don’t want to tell me what all went on in there?” Micah asked.

“Nosy bastard.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Micah said with a shrug. “Guess it’s too bad I didn’t choose to hang out at The House tonight.”

“Yeah, that would have gone over real well,” Gray said sourly. “I’m sure Faith would have been real happy to see you there.”

Micah grinned evilly. “No happier than I imagine she was to see you.”

“Just shut up,” Gray mumbled. “Let it die already. I’m going to have to hope Faith has no more desire to rehash everything than I do.”

What kind of twisted, weird-ass woman did it make her that when she got up the next morning, the fact that she could feel the slight ache in her ass made her all quivery inside?

Faith rolled out of bed and flexed her muscles experimentally as she stood and stretched. A warm tingle buzzed up her midsection at the memory of the night before. Gray commanding her body, making her come.

She remembered every swat to her ass, how it made her feel, the delicious balance between pain and pleasure. But more than that, and something she was starting to realize, was that her reaction wasn’t just to the stimuli, but to Gray. Otherwise, Brent would have been able to get her off just as quickly.

She yawned and trudged to her bathroom where she turned on the shower, full blast and blistering hot. Ten minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom, towel on her head and dressed in a T-shirt and gym shorts.

As she puttered around her kitchen, she gave thought to her most pressing dilemma: Gray.

If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never understand men. Women were supposed to be the enigmas, but men? Moody, brooding bastards, the lot of them. A woman with PMS had nothing on a man. Where women might get hormonal once a month, men suffered their own brand of PMS on a daily basis.

He wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, in his body language. He practically screamed possession. It made her shiver just to think about all that testosterone flowing behind those big muscles.

So what was his problem? Why did he shove her away like she was Satan’s spawn right after they went at it in the hallway of The House?

She poured herself a glass of orange juice and padded into the living room, where she flopped on the couch. She glanced at the TV remote for all of three seconds before twisting her lips and redirecting her gaze.

She wasn’t in the mood for television. What she was in the mood to do was brood and mull. Figure out this thing between her and Gray.

His directive to stay away from The House should have pissed her off, but she shrugged it off. He was right. And she had no intention of ever going back. Why should she, when she’d found exactly what she wanted, and it wasn’t anything The House offered?

No, she was pretty certain she knew precisely what it was she wanted now. It just happened to come in the form of a six-foot-plus surly male. A man she was dying to taste again. Take in her mouth. In her body.

Goose bumps prickled over her arms, and she closed her eyes to relish the memory of his hands on her body, his fingers between her legs.

Finally. Finally she’d found a man who was forceful. Strong. Unapologetic. A man who didn’t ask. Who took what he wanted.

Now she just had to figure out how to reel him in.

She started when a knock sounded at her door. She hurriedly leaned forward to set her glass down on the coffee table and lurched to her feet.

On the way to the door, she found herself holding her breath, hoping it was Gray. But when she opened it, it wasn’t Gray standing there. It was Damon. Damon from the sex club.

He smiled and held up his hand where the straps of her shoes dangled from his fingertips.

“I thought you might want these back,” he said.

She blushed, and then she stammered, and finally she clapped her lips shut and prayed for a giant anvil to drop from the sky and crush him where he stood.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“No.” Horrified that she’d said it aloud, she cleared her throat. “I mean yes. Yes, of course.” She stepped back and opened the door wider.

She led him into her living room. “Would you like something to drink? Juice or water?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t have long.”

She sank onto the couch while he took an armchair diagonal to her. She waited, not knowing what the hell to say or how to instigate a normal conversation. What could she say anyway? Did you enjoy the show? Did you see me suck off Gray in the hallway after he spanked my ass?

A red-hot glow seeped into her cheeks, and she looked down.

He dropped her shoes on the floor, and the sound made her look up again.

“I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said softly.

Her gaze lifted to his eyes, and she saw genuine concern there. She relaxed slightly and gave him a hesitant smile.

“That was sweet of you, Damon, but you didn’t need to worry about me. Or come all this way to return my shoes. Though I love those shoes.” She gave them a longing glance, grateful to have them back.

Damon chuckled. “It was the least I could do. Somehow I don’t think last night went as you thought it would. It certainly didn’t go according to my plan.”

She fidgeted in her seat and twisted her fingers together in her lap. “No, I don’t suppose it did,” she agreed. Then she looked directly into his soft brown eyes. “But I’m glad it did happen that way. It showed me…it showed me a lot.” She refused to get more specific, but he seemed to understand.

He nodded. “I think I knew that. But I had to be sure.”

She looked away again, down at her fingers. “Did…did you watch last night?” She wasn’t sure why she even wanted to know, what demon prompted her to ask.

She peeked at him from the corner of her eye and saw the corners of his mouth turn slightly upward.

“Watching is what I do,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s my job to make sure no one is hurt.”

“And what did you think?” she asked, tilting her head at an angle to look more directly at him.

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “It’s obvious he wasn’t a stranger to you. He seemed to know what it was you most needed when even you were not certain. You reacted to him when Brent left you cold.”

She inhaled in surprise.

He smiled gently. “Faith, I see a lot of people in the throes of passion. You were obviously not. You were obviously frustrated and disappointed. If your mysterious man hadn’t stepped in when he did, I was prepared to stop things. It was apparent it wasn’t the experience you expected or wanted.”

She smiled ruefully. “Will it offend you if I tell you I won’t ever be back?”

He laughed. “No. If I had to guess, you’d have one very angry man to deal with if you ever set foot back at the club.”

She harrumphed under her breath, but she knew Damon was right. Gray might well blow a gasket if she ventured back into the club. On the other hand, if he reacted like he did the first time…

A delicious thrill coursed through her body at the thought.

Damon rose, smoothing hands down his neatly tailored slacks. She took in his appearance for the first time since he’d arrived so unexpectedly on her doorstep. He looked like money. He was the epitome of refinement. Apparently it wasn’t just an act he portrayed for his job at the club.

“I should be going,” he said. “I wanted to bring you your shoes and to see how you were doing after your experience last night.”

She also stood and smiled. “Thanks, Damon. I appreciate it.”

“Keep me posted, okay? Let me know how your search goes for you.”

“Uh, well, okay, sure. I’ve got your e-mail.”

He leaned over, cupped her elbow in his hand and kissed her cheek. Then he headed for the door, leaving her standing there feeling slightly confused.

She sighed as he closed the door behind him. Then she flopped back on the couch and let out her breath like a sagging balloon.

Why couldn’t she be attracted to Damon? He seemed open enough to the things she wanted. Hell, he’d even watched her suck off another man, and for some inexplicable reason, that didn’t creep her out. It titillated her in an odd way.

Who knew she was a closet sex maniac? Okay, not maniac. One instance of public acts didn’t relegate her to nympho status. What was surprising to her was her reaction to the various scenarios she’d witnessed last night.

She’d seen things that by all rights should horrify a girl like her. Instead, she’d watched with breathless wonder, a new awakening dawning inside her. But. The proverbial but cropped up. She wasn’t sure she wanted to experience them so clinically. Like an exhibition at a freak show.