Surrender to You (17 page)

Everything about him was responsive, from the way he nibbled along my neck and then ventured back to my mouth. I reached under his shirt and ran my hands along the hard muscles underneath. When I rubbed over his nipples, he twitched and I grinned. Tomas always had a thing for me touching him there. I jerked my hips, but he kept kissing me. So I grabbed a nipple between my fingertips and pressed hard. He hissed in response, his gaze darkening.

“Are we making out or fucking?” I finally asked.

“Do you want to be fucked?” His smile was devilish.

“Again and again.”

He pulled off my shirt first. The cool air in the room hit my back. Next came my pants. When I reached for him, he pushed my hands away.

“Not yet,
Coração.
”

He kissed my inner thigh and came up to capture my lips again. Every place he sucked sparked heat inside of me until I was writhing for more.

He was teasing me; it was quite apparent by the time he tugged off my soaked panties. He turned me over onto my back as Manchester scored a goal.

“Damn it—” My grunt turned into a moan as he slid a finger inside of me.

His tongue slid up my back. “I love this phoenix tattoo. I remember when you got it.”

“It hurt like a motherfu—” He added a second finger, stretching me wonderfully.

“How many hours?” He was casual about his conversation as his lips worked over me and his fingers drove me toward a hard orgasm.

“Three days,” I panted. “Each of them a four-hour session.” I couldn't stop the moan rising from the back of my throat. The sweet feeling I couldn't contain as he filled me again and again. The wet sounds of him filling my sex echoed along the walls.

The tension in my limbs grew harsh and I cried out his name.

But he wasn't done with me yet. He kissed lower along my back. “And how about this tattoo?”

I was wet with perspiration now. I was still lying on my stomach and I leaned my head against the cushion, barely able to move.

“Which one?” I murmured.

He recited the Latin on my back:
“Faber est suae quisque fortunae.”
He pushed into me hard and deep. I shuddered from the sweet pleasure.

“Ah, that one. It means everyone is the creator of their own fate.” I sucked in a breath. “It's inked under my skin so I don't forget.”

He intertwined our fingers. “Is that your motto, Gingerbread?”

I expected him to pound into me, but his strokes were agonizingly slow against my ass.

Does he really want me to talk right now?

“Fuck, baby, you're so tight.” Apparently, he was having trouble speaking, too.

Again and again, he pulsed inside of me, marking me as his in a gentle manner we had hardly explored before. I thought I wouldn't feel the rising pleasure that I felt now, but I couldn't contain the long moan that was wrenched from my mouth.

Not far from us, the TV continued to blare with the closing minutes of the game. I could barely hear anything about the penalty kick as his stroke deepened and my climax was coming again.

“Carlie,” he moaned.

I loved hearing him call my name. “Say it again,” I whispered.

“Carlie, I can't get enough of you.”

He pressed me against the couch now and his grip on my hands tightened. He was pressing me into the cushions and I could barely breathe, but I was almost there again. He was almost there too, our bodies moving together as one. Him downward, me upward. We met in the middle, folding into each other as our bodies reached a blissful peak.

Once he finished, he sagged against me. I welcomed his weight. Especially the kisses along my damp brow.

“Your team won,” he whispered in my ear.

“Maybe you should sell the stock you own.”

He rose off me and looked at the television with distaste. “Good point.”

I watched him walk off and enjoyed staring at his tight ass. He rarely worked out like he used to when we were younger, but he still had a body carved in steel.

I was practically exhausted, but somehow I managed to get up and get dressed again.

We watched another movie. After that, I drifted off into the best sleep ever.

There was something wonderful about sleeping in his arms back home. I didn't need to run away, I was back where I wanted to be.

Without a doubt, in the morning, I knew he'd be there.

Waking up late—without my army of clocks—gave me joy. Of course, Tomas was here for business, but since he controlled his own schedule, we toured a potential construction site in Abbots Manor after lunch.

I could get spoiled living like this.

I had to admit, the site was perfect and I could get used to having Tomas here with me. The Thames was a few blocks away and tourists could walk to Big Ben if they wanted. For someone of Tomas's standing, the place was ideal. As I watched Tomas look over plans and discuss construction details with his team, I inevitably asked myself:
What do you want to do?

Was I happy to finally be with Tomas the way we were meant to be?
Undeniably, yes.

I could even jump back into my concierge business and live the fast-paced life I had before. I was sure I could make a comeback, even after I'd hired someone else at such great expense.

But the idea didn't excite me as quickly as I'd wanted it to. My happiest moment not too long ago had been when I was with my mom in that tiny cottage of hers and seeing Tomas. I smiled. That tiny, messy house and my mother had me questioning what I wanted to do.

Now that was unexpected.

The week stretched along and we spent less time alone as Tomas continued to have meetings with his planning team. Instead of letting me sneak away to connect with old business partners, Tomas dragged me along.

“Now that you're with me, I'm not letting you go,” he'd say every morning.

I learned so much that week. So many things went into selecting a site for a new hotel and that didn't even include the particulars for the interior. As much as I tried to be a bystander, Tomas pulled me in whenever he could.

On Friday morning he seemed pensive as he drank a cup of black coffee. “What's on your mind, Goodfellow?”

“It's you.”

“After what I did to you last night, I'd be on my mind, too.”

He rolled his eyes. “I'm meeting with a few companies on Monday. I'd like for you to talk more about those ideas we discussed a week ago.”

“What ideas?” I knew very well what he was talking about.

“Running a concierge business is nice and all, but you have the potential to do so much more.” He looked dead serious. “Your concierge business should be a
subdivision
of a guest services company.”

Me, start up a guest services company?
The very idea seemed too big for me to grasp. It wasn't as if I didn't know about business licenses, or rules and regulations in the U.K., but the very idea of creating a company, or even an empire like Tomas had, scared the shit out of me.

“You look like I asked you to cross the Atlantic in a paper boat.” He stroked my cheek. “All I'm asking you to do is come up with a presentation. Not save the world.”

Reluctantly, I agreed to finish one by Monday. As I worked on the presentation though, I wondered if Tomas had found an underhanded way to keep me distracted, but by the time I really sat down and thought about what I could do, everything clicked.

And boy, did I get excited.

Until I had to speak in front of ten people who looked like they were ready to swallow me whole. Even the state-of-the-art offices where the meeting was held didn't seem to tamp down my fear. Somehow, I shoved the apprehensive Carlie into the corner and began the speech I'd prepared.

“Having a qualified concierge team is pivotal, but the human touch isn't always necessary.” I held up a standard guidebook that came with any hotel. It wasn't hard to find one in piss-poor shape. “Imagine that you're visiting a hotel somewhere in a major city and you see this.” I had Tomas's assistant, Wendy, pass out additional copies to the planning team.

“It's full of places to eat and things to do. That's great, but frequently our customers still go to the concierge desk and ask what's good. There's also the inherent printing costs of these booklets. If you want to go upscale, I'm thinking terminals in the rooms.” I brought up my presentation on the overhead screen and Tomas smiled.

This is just the beginning, babe.

“With a system in place, not only can you easily update the content, but you can work with local companies to advertise and share potential revenue.” Once I said the money word, I had everyone's attention.

I even had tablets with sample layouts. All weekend, I let myself go nuts planning out this venture and I felt like I'd only touched the potential of what could be done. If I could secure contracts with major hotels, this software could go from the corkboard to real life.

After the meeting was over, Tomas and I ate lunch at a high-end French restaurant downtown off Portland Place. I refused to ask him about how his team took my presentation, but I was curious about what they thought of the London site.

“So what was the final consensus?” I asked him.

“We won't be making any decisions until we evaluate Seoul.”

I nodded. Which meant he'd be leaving again for who knew how long.

“You're coming with me, right?” he asked.

“To be honest, I'm rather excited about this consulting firm idea you've tossed in my lap.” I took a sip of my martini as I tried to find a way to say the obvious. “And my old clients have found me.”

He didn't miss a beat. “So I've noticed. Are you open for business again? Will I need to line up behind the rest of your customers for your attention?”

“Not exactly…” I was all grins.

We ate for a while, but the obvious conversation hung between us until I gave up and spoke. “How long would you need to evaluate the site in Seoul?”

“Five months. Much longer than here. It's a new market I haven't tapped into yet. So far I've read over the initial reports and things look promising.”

Five months.

I had trouble swallowing my food. Could I do this again? Leave behind a business to go with Tomas?

“Carlie, I feel like you're slipping away from me again.”

“I'm not.”

“You're lying to me, Gingerbread.”

“Yes, I am.” I bit my lip. “Can I have some time to think about it?”

Three days.

That was all he gave me to make the decision.

Life is all about obligations, Carlie. Someday when you're in my shoes, you'll be forced to do the same.

No shit, Sherlock. Back when I was nineteen, all I thought was that he was another golden-parachute college kid who couldn't stand up to his dad and live his own life. I was bitter back then, but now I was bitter about myself.

I was back in the office at the flat again, feeling at home with my favorite tea and a box of Barkat bars from the local store. The radio was on and snow was falling outside. And yet, I stared out that window again.

I'd fucked up. Yet again.

My phone rang for the fourth time today and I picked up.

“Oh, Miss Carlie, I finally got ahold of you.”

I smiled at hearing an old friend's voice. Lucy Hamilton was the bored housewife of a transportation-business owner, and she spent more time trying to climb the social ladder than paying attention to her delinquent children. “Miss Lucy, how are you, dear?”

We spent the next ten minutes going over niceties. “So what can I help you with?”

“Oh, the old biddy who wanted the yacht club meeting isn't happy anymore about the last party I organized for her. Do you really have pull with the Shelton Club?”

I did have pull, but I had been out of the scene for a little while. All the elbows I used to rub might've gone sour.

“I still do.” Why deny that time might've passed.

I slid into the role I used to have easily. I hustled. That was what I was good at doing.

Lucy giggled in a high pitch. “I will bring you the world on a platter if you can help me.”

“How did you know I was in town?”

“I've got sources. One of my minions saw you walking hand in hand with Tomas Goodfellow on Market Street. Are you two an item now?”

Damn, her minions were good.

She continued. “My first thought of course was, is Carlie back in town to stay again?” she said.

Maybe.

“I could get you work for the next few months if you wanted.”

The familiar thrill coursed through me. I could have what I wanted again. But then as she spouted the names of all her busy clients I remembered how overwhelmed I'd felt. The growing tension had coincided with my stomachaches.

I'd sat in this very chair eating crisps and agonizing over how the hell I could clone myself or get Sophie here so she could help me work. What the hell was I doing?

Hadn't Dr. Craft told me I needed to take better care of myself?

I looked at the cupboards where all my old food still sat. Row after row of all my old foods.

As soon as my conversation with Lucy was over, I got up and fetched a garbage bag. Ten minutes later, I'd tossed out everything I couldn't eat. Not that I had intended to give in to temptation anymore, but the point was made. It was time to do the right thing.

I looked over my contacts in my phone. Row after row of connections. I used to look at this list with pride, but now they were nothing more than names.

How does this thrill compare to when you are with Tomas?

The thrill didn't even come close. All those feelings I had for him transcended this job.

So what the hell are you going to do?

Three days later, I made my decision and ended up at the nearest pub around seven. A place called Bennington Brewery on the corner of Baker Street and Cambridge Avenue. Local factory workers came here after work to play darts and have a pint or two. On a nice cold evening like this one, I liked the atmosphere they gave it compared to most of my upper-crust customers.

I could sip my drink and listen to people talk about average lives.

I sent a text to Tomas:
Meet me in front of the Blythe Hotel.

When I got the text from Carlie, my hand stiffened around the phone.

Was this where things were going? Would I meet “Grace” again? Maybe “Patience” this time? Carlie's time was up and my flight to Seoul was leaving tonight.

I still did what she wanted, since I had been waiting for her answer for the past couple of days. All the distractions of looking for another site were nothing compared to the sinking feeling I'd had that she was slipping out of my hands again.

As I walked toward the Blythe Hotel, I kept seeing her face when we had been eating dinner earlier this week. The way her eyes sparkled as she talked about staying here and building up her business again. We could try to make it work long distance, but I knew us. I knew how we functioned.

We used each other as needed and spit each other back out.

She went her way and I did the same.

I turned the corner at Baker Street and there she was in trousers and a white coat that fit along her waist. She was quite beautiful with her red hair gathered up along her neck in a braid. She looked as young as she had the day I first saw her standing on the corner near Central Park.

I approached her and she smiled.

“Hi, Tomas.”

“Hey, Gingerbread.”

That made her smile wider and my heart squeezed thinking about what she'd say to me.

But then she turned away from the hotel.

“Where are you going?” I asked. I pointed toward the Blythe.

“This way. C'mon, Goodfellow. You're wasting a perfectly good evening.”

So I followed her down the street and she ventured into a pub called Bennington Brewery. We sat at the bar.

“Have you ever been here before?” she asked me.

“Never.” The bartender asked what we wanted and she ordered two pints of the house special.

“Can you drink this?” I asked her.

“Not really, but tonight is special.”

I shook my head. “Not anymore.” I pushed the drink back. “Got anything gluten-free?”

The bartender made a face. “We don't have any.”

“I'll be okay, Tomas. Just let me have a bit.” She smiled at me and the way the lights overhead hit her hair, I had to comply.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Changing. This is my last day.” She fished inside her purse and pulled out a list. “These are all my favorite things. Tomorrow, I'm making a fresh start.”

“A fresh start?”

“I've been running away for a long time. All my life I've worked myself to the bone to climb out of the gutter I thought I grew up in.”

I nodded.

“But I didn't start out in the gutter. I was born to a bass guitar player and his band manager. They traveled all over the U.S. and saw the Grand Canyon before I even got out of diapers.” She smiled again, her expression wistful. “All the time I thought I'd been abandoned, I hadn't been. My mom did what she had to because she didn't know any better. Even when I met her, she was ill-equipped to be a mom.”

“You grew up just fine, in my opinion.”

“Yeah, but I made assumptions. I assumed I'd be happy if I learned how your life was lived. I saw your life and thought you had it easy. I loved to please other people. Pleasing you gave me the most pleasure.”

The drink in my hands cooled my palms.

“At this point I'm going in circles and I can't keep doing that anymore. I can't keep running and trying to find what I thought I never had…”

“Love,” I finished.

“Exactamente, Tomas.”

I wanted to kiss her at that point. I fought the growing need to lean over and press my lips to hers.

“Love was always there waiting for me.” She looked away, her face flushed. “You were always waiting for me. I thought every time when we were together I could satisfy that itch, but scenes aren't enough.” They were never enough.

“Why?”

“I always felt like I'd cut myself when we left each other behind. The pain never changed. If I walk out that door and go back to my old life, I'll be doing the same thing to myself.”

I'd had time to contemplate the same. The moment I got on that plane to Seoul for five months, I would allow myself to fall into my job. That was what I did. Canceling everything though would be a big financial loss.

But what if I did something different and stayed with her tonight and finished this beer instead of getting on that flight?

She looked at my watch. “It's almost eight.”

“Yes, it is.” I smiled at her and she returned my smile.

“Your flight will take over eight hours to get to Seoul. And you probably have a meeting with your team in the morning.”

I took a generous drink and even grabbed some nuts from a nearby plate. “Yes, it will take that long. And yes, I do.”

She played with her drink and didn't take a sip as she'd promised.

“I'm tired of letting you go,” she admitted.

“Me, too.”

“Then don't let me go.” She pushed her drink my way and took my hand.

“How do we make this work?” I asked her.

“I've packed my bags. I was thinking if we left after you finished my drink, we could catch that flight to Seoul.” Her smile turned feline. “But since you happen to have a jet, I'm sure we could arrange another flight.”

“I believe that's something I can do.”