Forbidden Surrender (8 page)

I had to force my gaze to meet his. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

We waded into the ocean, the shallow waves leaving rivulets of water trickling down Vincent’s bare chest. When we were waist deep he dropped our surfboards by his side and turned to me.

“The most important thing to understand is you have to control your board, you don’t want to find yourself overwhelmed by the force of the wave,” he began. “So lay down on your stomach and put your hands here.”

I did as I was told, sliding my stomach across the board’s waxy surface.

“Now press your hips into it.” Without warning he gripped the soft curve of my hips and pushed against them, the callouses of his fingers working against my skin. The way he effortlessly maneuvered my body until it was in the correct position made me think I wasn’t the first woman he’d taught how to surf.

I tried to bite my tongue but I was determined not to be just another one of Vincent Sorenson’s conquests. “How many surfing lessons have you given?”

“A few.”

“Mostly female clientele?” I shot, the words coming out before I even had a chance to consider them.

He pulled his hands from my hips, the heat of his skin lingering where his fingers had been, and I instantly regretted my presumptuousness.

“Are you trying to ask me how many girls I’ve brought here?”

I sat up on the board, straddling it to keep from falling over. His eyes wandered to the water lapping over my clenched thighs. “I just want to know what this is.”

“This is a date, Kristen. Not a ploy. The only lessons I’ve ever given were just that—lessons.”

I averted my gaze. “It’s not your conventional first date, that’s all.”

As my board began to drift, he pulled it closer, his fingers brushing the flesh of my inner thigh. I shivered at the contact and considered maybe it wasn’t anger I was feeling but jealousy. If Vincent’s touch could send me into a fit of desire then I could only imagine what he’d made other women feel, ones who didn’t demand first dates.

“What are you used to?” he asked.

“What most people are used to—dinner, movie. I guess I haven’t gone out with enough CEOs.”

“Who have you gone out with?”

I shifted away from his touch, growing uneasy at the one question I refused to breach. “No one serious,” I said as I leaned forward on the board so I was laying on my stomach again. “Am I doing this right?” I asked, determined to change the subject.

“Move further down the board and keep pressing your hips into it.”

I wiggled down the board and awkwardly extended my abdomen but I was too flustered by the thought of my messy dating history to focus on my form. Suddenly Vincent was behind me, his hands settled into the groove of my hips as he pulled my body toward him. I wished desperately I was wearing a t-shirt, a wetsuit, anything to lessen the direct contact between us. I couldn’t distinguish between the water and the dampness that had been growing between my legs since I first caught sight of him on the beach.

“I can’t—” I began to protest, too overwhelmed by a foreign desire to think about surfing technique.

“You can. I’m right here.” He slid his hand to the small of my back and pressed. My pelvis pushed into the board, the vague contact with my clit sending a heat into my belly. I chided myself for my desperate arousal—I wanted to take things slow, especially with Vincent, a man who was too busy continent hopping to commit.

I pushed myself up again, distraught. “I have no idea why you like this sport so much,” I said, trying to blame my agitation on the lesson. I teetered on the board as I tried to gain my balance and he clutched the top of my thighs to keep me steady.

“Haven’t you ever had an adrenaline rush?” he asked, moving his hands further up my thighs until they were dangerously close to the heated space between my legs. I looked at him, his eyes wild with anticipation, the tendons of his neck taut as he clenched his jaw. “Your body becomes attuned to every sensation, your energy peaks—”

“It’s addicting,” I breathed.

“Don’t you want to feel that way?” he asked as he drew his face closer to mine, our lips brushing briefly. I could taste the salt that had caked to his mouth.

“And if I fall?”

“It won’t hurt.”

I pulled away from him, afraid if I let him any closer I’d lose my bikini, and paddled toward the shallow waves in the distance.

We practiced surfing well into the afternoon but Vincent proved more of a distraction than a help—the pent up sexual energy I had felt during our lesson still lingered within me. When my arms were too weak to keep paddling, we left the water for the beach. As I set my surfboard in the sand, Vincent reached out and gently grabbed my left hand, pulling it close as if to inspect it.

“How did you injure your pinky?” he asked, sitting down next to me. Being so close to him on the sand made me pine for the cooling effects of the water. “You’ve been holding it out all afternoon.”

I pulled my hand away, instinctively clutching my finger. “I’m a little accident prone, tripped and fell a few years ago and sprained it.”

“Accident prone? You were pretty good on the water.”

I practically scoffed, I’d been falling off my surfboard all afternoon. “I don’t think surfing is my true calling. It’s a little too rough for me out there.”

“Sometimes rough is good,” he said as he lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my pinky, dragging it across the full line of his bottom lip. I looked up at him, the sun catching the amber of his eyes, and I could hear the rapid beating of my heart in my ears. I still didn’t understand how one look from him could throw me so off balance. I glanced around the beach, making sure we were alone.

“You’re covered in sand,” he said, wiping the grainy pebbles from my palm. “We should rinse off.”

I did feel the need for a shower after all our time in the water so I agreed.

He stood and reached his hand out to me, pulling me up and into him. My hands grasped at his bare chest as I tried to gain my balance. His skin was warm and slick with a layer of sweat, and I couldn’t help but imagine running my tongue down the firm ridges of his abdomen. It had been two years since I’d slept with a man and I could feel my neglected need hitting me full force.

I tried to pull myself from his grasp, afraid the friction of our bodies would overwhelm the rational part of me, but he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me closer. The quick pulsing of my heart seemed to take up between my legs as he leaned forward and took my face in his hands. As he pressed his lips into mine, working my mouth open with his tongue, my knees buckled and I grabbed his bicep to keep myself steady. I could hear his heavy breathing, feel his warm exhales against my cheek as our tongues moved over one another. It was true it had been years since I’d been with a man but I’d never been so consumed by a kiss and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I let it continue.

“Where are the showers?” I asked, breaking away. I was desperate for a reason to distance myself from him—what would he think of me, better yet what would I think of myself, if I had sex with him when I’d demanded a date to avoid sex? But without a word he lifted me onto his waist, my legs wrapping instinctually around him, and walked us toward the showers.

“Put me—” I began but he cut me off with another kiss, his mouth pressed so urgently against mine that my lips tingled. I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling lightly, as the hard cut of his pelvis rocked against my clit while he walked. I clenched my thighs around his torso to keep myself from grinding shamelessly against him, wanting to feed the desire that had begun pulsing faintly between my legs.

He put me down as he turned on the shower and before I had time to get my bearings, I felt his hands running down my back and across the waist of my bikini bottom. He reached up and loosened my hair from its ponytail, the heavy, damp locks falling down my back as he rinsed the sand from my body.

“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to avoid his touch. I immediately berated myself for getting caught up in the moment—I didn’t need casual sex, especially with someone who was used to getting what he wanted from women. I had promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with another man too quickly, and here I was about to strip naked on the first date.

“I’m cleaning you.”

“I can do it myself,” I insisted.

His hands stopped their merciless roaming but lingered in the middle of my back, his fingers batting at the loose strings of my bikini top. He looked at me, the water running over the sharp bridge of his nose and down to his lips.“Why’re you so afraid to ask for help?”

“Because I don’t need your help.” I tried not to acknowledge the muscled torso, wet and glistening, just mere inches from me.

“I want to make things easier for you.” He slid his fingers beneath the strings of my bikini top and I could feel him wiping away the coarse sand stuck there, his fingers moving toward the side of my breast. I felt my nipples harden from his touch, barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of my suit.

“I just think it would be better if we take things slow,” I breathed.

“Is this slow enough?” His hands creeped toward my chest, the cool tips of his fingers sending goosebumps across my skin. Just as he was about to cup my breast, he shifted quickly, trailing his fingers lightly down my torso. I groaned in a frustrated desire, wanting him to pinch my nipples between his fingers, take them between his teeth and bite gently.

I reached out to him in spite of myself. My fingers traced the raised edges of a tattoo on his shoulder. “What does this one mean?”

“It’s sanskrit for ‘balance.’ I’m a hard worker, Kristen, but I believe in rewarding myself.” I could feel the bulge of his stirring package beneath his board shorts as he moved closer to me.

“And these?” I crooned as I fingered his nipple rings.

“Something of a souvenir from Fiji.”

“You couldn’t just get a t-shirt?” I leaned into his chest and took his nipple between my fingers, pinching the cool metal ring lightly.

“I wanted something a little more interactive,” he moaned as he grabbed a handful of my hair.

“I knew I felt something hard when I fell on you in South Africa.” The aching throb between my legs had become nearly unbearable and all I wanted to do was pull his board shorts from his hips and take him in my hands. But things were already going faster than they were supposed to and I would have no one to blame but myself if I gave into Vincent and ended up getting hurt.

“What about you, Kristen? Any piercings you’re hiding from me?” The tone of his voice and the ceaseless roaming of his hands suggested he had every intention of finding out unless I put a stop to things.

I tore away from him, mustering all of my willpower to deny my desire. It was hard to ignore just how sexy Vincent was, and I wasn’t sure I believed those surfing lessons he was giving were innocent. It seemed like a flawless plan—the minimal clothing, maximal touching and his persistent charm, any woman would succumb to the seduction. But I wasn’t looking for seduction and if that’s all Vincent was interested in doing then it was better I walked away from our date with my dignity still intact, something my last relationship had taken from me.

Not wanting to cause an argument or dredge up my relationship history I flashed him a doe-eyed look and stepped out of the shower’s stream. “Nothing worth pursuing comes without patience,” I teased.

His shoulders dropped in obvious disappointment but the toothy smile on his face left me hopeful that maybe sex wasn’t his only motive. “I guess that means you want to see me again.”

“Maybe,” I said playfully as I left the stall, “but you’ll have to let me off this island first.”

I made my way to the women’s bathroom and slowly peeled the soaking swimsuit from my body, taking my time as I tried to decompress from the shower. It was ridiculous to try and convince myself I didn’t want Vincent. But whisking a woman off to an isolated island for an afternoon had raised some red flags. Although no one had ever planned such an elaborate date for me, I was starting to think Vincent knew the rules of seduction far better than he knew the rules of dating. I didn’t want to give up on him but I couldn’t let my body get the best of me next time.

Once I had changed and fixed my hair into a loose, damp braid I left the bathroom to find Vincent leaning against the convertible, the deep tan of his skin standing out against his white t-shirt.

He leaned down and kissed me before tugging lightly on the braid. “You look beautiful,” he said.

I blushed, conscious my makeup had washed off and my hair was a mess. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “All that time in the water wore me out.” He shot me a suggestive grin and I knew he wasn’t just talking about the ocean.

“I’m starved,” I said, but I knew no amount of food could quell my appetite.

By the time we boarded Vincent’s plane, it was evening and I was physically drained. After the hours of surfing, we tried out a Caribbean barbeque place with amazing burgers then drove around the island sightseeing until the sun set. It was a romantic, memorable first date and I found myself hoping it wouldn’t be our last. I’d expected him to be his usual charming and seductive self all day, but he was surprisingly attentive and caring, showing he’d listened when I’d told him about taking things slow. He suggested we stay the night—in separate rooms of course—but I wanted to avoid the possible implications. Resisting him in the public shower was hard enough; sleeping in the same hotel with beds conveniently nearby might’ve been too much for my resistance if he decided to be seductive again. Instead, I’d fallen asleep on his shoulder on the flight back. When he dropped me off at my apartment, we exchanged a chaste goodbye kiss. He promised to text me tomorrow and I promised to tell him what I thought about a second date. I trotted to my room and plopped on my bed, exhausted from the day’s activities.

***

Monday morning felt better than it had since as long as I could remember. With everything I did with Vincent over the weekend, it seemed like forever since I got the chance to sleep in. Which is why I took full advantage of the opportunity on Sunday. Except for exchanging a few flirty texts, the day had been uneventful but relaxing. Not that being involved with Vincent Sorenson wasn’t thrilling enough, but the lazy Sunday was just what I needed to re-energize.

I’d told him I needed more time to think about seeing him again but it was more to save face than anything else. If I was honest with myself, the idea of secretly dating a gorgeous client was thrilling, but I’d been careful not to reveal that to Vincent. I also found myself wanting to know more about him. He wasn’t the surfer bum that Richard pegged him for nor was he the cold, calculating businessman typical of individuals his stature. He was something in between. Steadfast in pursuit but adaptable. Charming yet respectful. In other words, complex.

Next weekend seemed interminably far away. What would we do on a second date? Where did we stand? All I knew was I already felt safe with him, which was both comforting and unnerving. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time with anyone; I’d even begun wondering if I could trust a guy again.

I recapped my date to Riley expecting irrational excitement, but her reaction was subdued. She announced she was coming down with a cold, her throat’s scratchiness since coming back from Cape Town an advanced indicator. Before leaving for work, I told her I’d stop by a Duane Reade to pick up orange juice and cough medicine. If she needed anything else like blankets or a humidifier, she could just text me.

I arrived at work a little earlier than usual, eager to start the day. The morning passed in a blur of investment research and excel sheets. It was rare that coworkers didn’t stop by to chat but I supposed it was just one of those busy mornings. I was about to head to lunch when Richard made an unexpected appearance at my cubicle.

“Hard at work, I see.” His voice didn’t contain its usual confidence bordering on smugness.

“Just finished the ROI projection charts for the Sorenson account and about to head to lunch. Need something?”

He sighed heavily and I leaned back in my chair preparing myself for some bad news. There was no way the firm had found out about my trip with Vincent already. “I came to tell you that you’ve been promoted.”

“What?” This was good news. I had been promoted only six months ago, which earned me the privilege of working under Richard in the first place. Now I was promoted again? Richard had been right, landing the Sorenson account did have its perks.

I beamed. “This is great! It’s just like you said. So are you going to buy that new convertible you’ve been talking about?”

“No.” He sighed again, rubbing his temples with his fingers. His jaw was working overtime. “
You
have been promoted. Not me. I also found out Vincent specifically listed you as his point of contact. Did you know about that?”

I gulped. Richard was upset with me and I had to diffuse the situation. Complete honesty wasn’t the answer. “He mentioned the possibility, saying he was impressed by my work. But I didn’t know he would go that far.”

His eyes narrowed. “What did you tell him and what did he say when he handed you the signed documents?”

“I just went through the standard follow-up pitch and he stopped me before I could finish. He said he liked my work and wanted to sign the papers. I gave them to him and didn’t really look too hard after he signed.”

He opened his mouth to say something but shut it, his mind seemingly deep in thought. He grumbled something under his breath and left before I could question the situation or offer words of consolement.

I tried to put Richard’s frustration into perspective. Despite him being ten years my senior, my promotion brought me to the same level as him. No longer a meager ‘analyst’, I was now a ‘client acquisition manager’ that would be reporting to Richard’s boss, Carl Stansworth, directly. I figured Vincent’s request for me to be his point-of-contact was the reason Carl promoted me, but I wondered why Richard wasn’t promoted. Richard certainly did his fair share of work, which meant either the company wasn’t doing well enough to promote him or Richard wasn’t on Carl’s good side. I figured it was the latter. Whatever the reason, the situation made it look like I stole his client lead. I was concerned about rubbing Richard the wrong way, but there wasn’t much I could do about the circumstances.

I skipped to lunch and returned to my desk with a newfound passion for my job. My fingers a whirlwind at the keyboard, I felt at peak productivity, churning page after page of reports and analyses.

It was approaching the end of the workday when my purse chimed with the sound of a text message. I reached inside, flutters in my stomach, figuring it was another flirty text from Vincent. I was already thinking about him so often since our date it was difficult to concentrate on anything else, and the frequent communication wasn’t helping. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to resist him if we kept this up.

I discovered the text was actually from Riley. Maybe she needed something else from the store.

Hey someone stopped by asking for you.

Not what I expected, but okay. Using my thumbs, I typed a response back to her.
Did he have dark eyes, sexy blonde hair, and abs to die for?

A moment later the chime sounded.
No. Didn’t get his name.

So it wasn’t Vincent. He probably wouldn’t have dropped by anyway knowing I would be at work. I also wasn’t expecting any packages . . . who could it have been? I was in the middle of preparing a response when I received another text. Riley must have accidentally hit send early on the last one.

But he had gorgeous blue eyes, brown hair, and rimless glasses.

Suddenly, the office spun, coming choppily like a film with missing frames. My pulse leaped and I felt an immediate tightness in my chest. I tried to breathe but couldn’t. The familiarity of the experience made me realize I was having a panic attack. I stared at the words, reading and rereading them, hoping they’d change.

Blue eyes. Brown hair. Rimless glasses.

There was no mistaking it.
He
had shown up at my doorstep. How did he find out where I lived? Why did he show up now? Should I call the police? Run? Stay at a hotel tonight? For how long? A flurry of questions and actions raced through my mind. And none of them seemed good.

In the midst of the chaos, my phone chimed again. Hands trembling, I checked the new message, fearing the worst.

The sight of Vincent’s text grounded me in reality.
I’m aching for you. When can I see you again?

I recalled how safe I felt around him. That was the one thing I desperately needed right now and only he could give it to me. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to see him tonight, be with him.

Tonight. Your place. Can you pick me up after work?

I waited anxiously for his response. A few seconds later, it came.

What happened to slow? :)

I’m not promising anything. Can’t a girl come over just for fun?

Of course. We’ll hang out.

Spotting Vincent’s car pull to the side of curb, I checked to make sure nobody I recognized was around. Once I confirmed that none of my coworkers would suspect Vincent was taking me to his place, I hopped into the passenger seat.

His peacock blue shirt showcased his trim torso and his tailored black pants matched his expensive shoes. The effect was striking, and for a moment it felt surreal that a guy like this was picking me up from work.

“Hey.” I smiled at him.

He shifted the car to ‘park’ and leaned over, kissing me as if starved for the taste of my lips. His raw hunger for me was intoxicating. Hesitant at first, I easily succumbed to the sensation, running my hands through his long blonde locks and reciprocating. I enjoyed the soft feel of his mouth and his surprisingly fresh masculine scent.

Once our lips broke contact, he spoke. “Hello, Kristen.”

Hello to you too.
“Sorry to give you such short notice.”

He placed his hand on my bare knee, the warmth from his skin a welcome sensation. “Anytime you need anything, don’t be afraid to tell me. I can be accommodating.”

“Thank you.” I considered for a moment if I should tell him about my ex-boyfriend showing up at my apartment, but I didn’t want to freak him out. People typically didn’t unload their baggage onto someone else when they’ve only been on one date. I hadn’t told anyone about my ex’s dark side before, not even Riley. But then again, I hadn’t had to. “So how was your day?”

“Went from good to great.” He grinned as his hand began lightly brushing my leg below my skirt. “How about yours?”

“Not bad.”

His sharp eyes studied my features carefully. “You seem kind of tense. Is everything all right?”

I hesitated. “I got a promotion today, thanks to you.”

“Congratulations. You deserved it,” he said. “And I’m not just saying that because I like you. You’re a rare talent.”

I blushed. “And you’re quite the seducer. You sure know how to flatter a girl.”

“Not flattery. Honesty. And I’ll take that first part as a sign of affection.”

The sound of my stomach grumbling betrayed my hunger and Vincent must’ve heard it. “What do you feel like eating tonight?” he asked. “I’m planning on cooking for us.”

“No preference,” I answered. “You don’t have to go through all that trouble though, I was just thinking we’d go to a restaurant or get take out.”

He shook his head. “I’m taking you to the best restaurant in the city—my kitchen. Tonight’s an opportunity to impress you with my culinary skills.”

“Expert surfing instructor, now a master chef.” Also, billionaire and sex god, but I figured those were already obvious. “How many surprises do you have?”

Those sinful lips forming a smile made me feel a sudden ache between my legs. “Oh the things I’ll show you, Kristen.”

Just as my thoughts began to turn naughty, a mental shopping list interrupted them. “I almost forgot, I need to pick up some medicine for Riley. Do you think we could get that first?”

“Of course. We’ll stop by the grocery store,” he said, pulling away from the curb to join the flock of cars in traffic.

If picking me up from work was surreal, grocery shopping was an illusion. I was cautious at first that someone might see us, but caution turned to laughter as we roamed the aisles for items. Two weeks ago I was rebuffing Vincent’s advances, and now we were picking out food to cook for dinner like an established couple. It was a domestic experience that felt bizarre but natural. I hadn’t been looking for anything serious or Mr. Right or even much of anything, and there I was with someone who felt like all those things. I hadn’t expected Vincent to be this way but then again he’d been constantly surprising me.

By the time we left, I felt a lot better than when he had picked me up from work. With half a dozen bags loaded into his trunk, he drove while I played the role of navigator, directing him to my apartment.

When we neared my place, all humor and playfulness evaporated from my system, replaced by the anxiety from earlier. He turned to me and smiled as he stopped the car in front of my apartment building, putting the emergency lights on. “I can park. I’m curious to see your place.”

“It won’t take long, I’ll just be a minute,” I said, hopping out. I didn’t want to risk him running into my ex, if he was still around. Things would go from bad to disastrous. “Keep the car running.”

He seemed a little confused but then nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

As I scaled the wooden steps of my building’s stairwell, I couldn’t help checking over my shoulder every few steps or being wary of dark corners. I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached my door without incidence. When I entered the apartment I found Riley in a robe on the sofa watching television, a box of tissues next to her.

“Brought you some stuff,” I said, handing her the orange juice and Dayquil.

“Thanks, you’re the best.” Her voice was nasally and she blew into a tissue to clear her nose.

“Do you have the flu? Should I take you the doctor?” I put the back of my hand up to her forehead to check her temperature.

“Nah, I think it’s only a cold. I just need to keep blowing my nose every few minutes.”

“Glad to hear it’s not serious.”

She looked at my shoes which I hadn’t taken off like I normally would when I entered the apartment. “You going somewhere?”

I suddenly felt guilty for bailing on her. “Riley, I’m going to stay at Vincent’s tonight.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, congratulations! I’m glad to see you’re finally coming out of your dating shell.”

“About that . . . I need to tell you something.” I waited until she gave me her undivided attention. “Don’t open the door for anyone. Especially if it’s the guy who came by earlier. Whatever you do, don’t let him inside.”

Her brows furrowed. “Who is he? Should I be worried?”

“He was someone I dated before I moved here. Don’t worry, he only cares about me; he won’t do anything to you. I’ll tell you more about it some other time. But keep your mace handy just in case.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Her hands made shoving motions in front of her face. “You can’t just say ‘keep your mace handy’ and dash out. What’s going on? Do we need to call the cops?”