Chapter 65 Surrender
CHAPTER 65: Surrender
Silas
I felt a shock of heat and softness through the steam as the unmistakable feel of a woman's naked body pressed against me.
Vera.
I could recognise her scent and presence anywhere.
I froze.
The water beat down on my chest, but all I felt was the imprint of her soft, firm breasts, her softly curved stomach and her thighs, searing through the cascade.
For a moment, I thought I’d imagined her.
What was going on?
I removed her arms from around my waist, and turned around holding her wrists in my grip, holding her hostage.
There she was, naked and pelted with the needles of water that glistened against her smooth skin.
She was all vulnerability and trembling bravery.
“What are you doing?” My voice was raw, stripped by the steam and the war inside me.
“I don’t know.” Her eyes were huge, dark pools in the mist.
She rose on her toes, her mouth seeking mine.
My reflexes were quicker.
I caught her face, my thumbs digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, holding her still, puckering her plump rosy lips into a pout.
My body fought a serious battle with my mind.
Her skin was slick, her lips plump and inviting. At this angle, I saw everything…the faint blue veins at her temples, the water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. I felt the gentle curve of her stomach, and I saw the naked, unguarded need on her face.
I had not imagined that this morning. Just like I was not imagining this moment. It was the first time I’d seen all of her. Every tempting, forbidden inch.
“You’re naked, pressed up against me in the shower,” I rasped. “Try again.”
“I want to do this,” she whispered, the sound swallowed by the shower’s roar.
My heart skipped a bit.
“Do what?” I pressed, despite knowing what she meant. “I'm not in need of a back rub, Vera. Be specific.”
She gathered her courage. “I want you to take me.”
A bolt of current ran through me, quicker than lightning.
A sneer twisted my mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me?” She shook her head, eyes slightly wide with panic. “Trying to buy your way out of your punishment?”
“No, please—”
“So you're bartering your body now? Using it as a bargaining chip?”
She flinched, but her gaze didn’t drop. “It’s not that.”
My grip loosened on her face, but I didn't let go.
“Then what is it?”
“I just… I want to.” The trembling and vulnerability in her voice was betrayed by the boldness and need of her body, pressed flush against mine… the only truth my body recognised.
My member, already hard from the shock of her touch, throbbed against her lower belly. The proof of my own undoing.
I pulled her closer, my mouth a breath from hers.
“You start this, Vera, and I won’t stop.” Her eyes widened slightly and she swallowed heavily. “You cross this line with me, and I will have you. Whenever I want. However I want.”
I hoped she wouldn't back out at this point, because I was already at the end of my sanity.
When she nodded twice, I sighed with relief.
My voice gained a harder edge to it. “But bear in mind that this doesn't change a damn thing. You understand?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“And I’ll take care of whatever you or your sister may need.”
“Yes.”
The last thread of my control snapped.
I dove in.
My mouth crashed onto hers, hot and branding, not a kiss but a claiming. A punishment. A surrender. I had waited and imagined this for a long time… even dreamt about it.
Her lips were soft and yielding, then desperate, moving feverishly under mine.
I bit on her lower lips and a small, broken sound vibrated from her throat into my mouth, and I swallowed it greedily. I drank her in.
The taste of her was poison and oxygen, and I was starving for both.
The weight and discomfort of Chauncey’s words disappeared lost in the heat and softness of her body.
My hand left her face to tangle in her wet hair, angling her head back to deepen the kiss.
The other slid down the slick plane of her back, over the curve of her ass.
“Jump.”
She jumped and I hauled her up against me. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms locking securely around my neck.
That position was almost my undoing. I felt all of her. The solid, living weight of her…the heat of her pulsing core pressed against my stomach. The small sounds that emitted from her throat, it obliterated every thought but one,
More.
I carried her out of the shower, water sluicing from our bodies onto the marble floor. I didn’t break the kiss. I couldn’t. Her mouth was my anchor in a storm of our own making.
She grinded against me. I tasted her lips, her tongue and the salt of her skin as my lips left a trail of hot open mouthed kisses along her swan-like neck.
I walked us blindly into the bedroom, the dim light from the balcony doors painting her in silver and shadow.
I laid her on the rumpled silk sheets, and came down over her, bracing my weight on my forearms.
Her hair fanned out, spilling across the pillows like a dark watermark.
I kissed her again…slower. She responded with matching fervour, and we clung to each other for a while, almost like lovers lost in each other's arms.
I drew back and looked at her.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her nipples pebbled tight from the cool air. I took the tight pebble between my fingers, kneading and twirling, making her mouth drop open as breathless moans spilled from her lips, the intoxicating sound, sending a heady rush to my excited member.
My gaze raked down her body, the swell of her breasts, the delicate arc of her ribs, the gentle, impossible mound of her stomach.
My wife. Pregnant with another man’s child. But mine all the same. The want was a wildfire.
But the rational part of my brain managed to win a window.
“Stay put,” I growled, pushing myself off her.
She stared at me, her breath coming in ragged spurts, eyes glazed with lust.
Her hand shot out, clutching my wrist. “Silas—”
“I said stay.” The command was iron.
She released me, her hand falling back to the sheet, fingers curling into the silk.
I was close to breaking point, but this had to be done.
I snatched my phone from the nightstand and padded out to the balcony, aware of her eyes following my movements.
The night air was a slap after the steam of the bathroom and the heat of the bedroom. I was naked, dripping, muscles tensed and thrusting, my member aching and upright against my belly.
I didn’t care. I called Dr Caleb.
It rang twice. “Mr Rutherford?” he sounded like he had been roused from sleep. “Is everything okay?”
“Is it safe?” My voice was gravel as my fingers gripped the balustrade tightly.
A pause.
“Safe for what? Is your wife unwell?”
“Physical exertion. Is it safe for her to engage in physical exertion.”
A beat of silence. Then a low, understanding sigh.
“At three months? Yes. The pregnancy is out of the danger area now. She is healthy, so is the child.” I think,” he paused, searching for the right words, “—this exercise should be good for her. But you have to be careful. Gentle. No undue strain.”
I ended the call.
I stood there for one more second, the city lights blurring below.
The confirmation I needed that nothing that would happen inside that room tonight would hurt the baby had been gotten.
My blood was already roaring, a primal drumbeat in my ears.
Now, I was ready to take what she’d just offered…what I’d always wanted.
I turned and went back inside.