Page 60 of Surrender
“How about we eat first?” I hold my hand out to help her stand. “I have a feeling I’m going to need my strength.”
I’m overly curious about Gareth. This is just sex, but he has a heavy presence about him that makes me want to know all his deep, dark thoughts. Even when he smiles, he has sad eyes with an almost haunted look that screams mystery.
When he told me last year that his mother died, I was surprised I hadn’t guessed that sooner. I dated a guy in high school who lost his mom while we were together. Both he and Gareth have that same look in their eyes. I was with him during the funeral, and it was hell. Torturous hell. About a month later, we broke up. He was a different person than when we started our relationship. Losing a parent does that to you. It changes your personality. Not negatively. Just differently. I imagine if I would have met him after his mother died instead of before, our relationship would have been totally different.
Hearing Gareth speak about his father, I know there are so many more layers to him than I ever gave him credit for. But he was right to have his guard up. What we’re doing isn’t personal. It’s sex. That is why I’m not kissing him.
But after the phone conversation I had with Callum about Sophia not being able to come to my house for Thanksgiving, I didn’t give a shit if Gareth was uncomfortable. I wanted to pick a fight with someone, and he was the unlucky person closest to me at the time.
It’s making me crazy that I have no control over where Sophia spends her Thanksgiving holiday and that Callum can shut me down for no apparent reason. Just because he can. That is my life right now and it’s maddening.
So to Astbury I drove, like a bandit. I went to the one place where I am not shut down. The one place where I have nothing but control over my own life, my own choices, my own decisions. The one place that lets me forget. Gareth and I have only been at this for a couple of weeks, but his house is the one place that allows me to escape all the shit I have to put up with in my personal life.
Originally, I had planned to finish my day helping Freya with alterations, shower, shave, and primp myself properly for the night. But I was so worked up after Callum called, I drove straight out to his house in my damn mom jeans! My need for Gareth’s presence—his manliness, his warmth—was like I was dying of thirst and only he could quench it.
That’s why I need to turn this night around. Stat.
We put our clothes back on to eat because, well, it’s hot food and it seems dangerous to eat without shirts on. Gareth makes both of our plates up with the best linguini and Bolognese sauce I’ve ever tasted. I nearly ask for the recipe before covering my mouth and mumbling something about how it would pair nicely with a red wine. Asking for a recipe is a mom move. Super mom move. You don’t ask for recipes from the guy you’re fucking.
We end up hand-washing the dishes because his dishwasher is still drying a load. Brushing shoulders as we stand next to each other by the sink is some kind of kinky foreplay that probably only a mom would get turned on by. There’s something about his wet, veiny hands plunging in and out of the bubbly water. And maybe the fact that Gareth actually does his own damn dishes.
I dry off my hands and open the refrigerator to see what’s inside. It’s so empty, I would normally question whether anyone actually lived here. There are only a couple of Tupperware containers full of prepared foods—probably from the magical chef, Robert—some sports drinks, and a lime.
Rolling my eyes, I wrench open the freezer. The disappointment continues when all that lays inside are some gross looking protein balls. Athletes are weird.
Inspiration strikes as I close the freezer. “Can I get a glass?”
Gareth eyes me curiously and reaches up into the cupboard to grab a glass down for me. The skin that peeks out from beneath the bottom of his shirt when his arm stretches up is oh-so sexy, I can’t wait to try what I have planned.
He hands the glass over to me and watches me expectantly as I fill the cup with ice cubes all the way to the top. “I think we should have sex again soon.”
His concealed chuckle is appreciated. “Why not now?”
I shrug. “You got lucky with a quickie before because I was having a moment. Now I’m more in control. And because I have to torture you first, of course.”
This causes him to full-on belly laugh. “Well, I’m at your service, Treacle.” He winks at me, and I swear the look alone could get me off if I concentrated on it hard enough.
“Are you the type to get squeamish over unsanitary kitchens?” I ask, eyeing the large granite kitchen island that’s grey with sparkles.
“Not if you’re not,” he replies, his forearms flexing as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.
“Good because I want you naked and lying on the counter.”
His smile is sinful. “Whatever you say, Tre.”
I hurry out to the foyer to get my handbag with the items I grabbed for tonight while Gareth undresses in the kitchen. When I return, he’s standing by the island, shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned. My eyes instantly go to the trimmed trail of hair that leads to his groin.
When he grabs the band of his jeans, I stop him. “Hang on.”
He pauses, leaving his jeans hanging on the edge of his hip bones. The deepVthat angles toward his package is so sexy, I have to close my eyes and regain some composure.
“Hold your hands out together,” I state, setting my bag on the counter and rooting around for a moment.
When I pull out a yellow rope from inside my purse, his eyes fly wide. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. Is this not okay?” I frown. “I bought it online. It’s like sex rope or something. They cut to your order. It’s less harsh on your wrists than regular rope from what I understand.”
His tongue darts out to lick his lips and a heated look billows in his eyes. “It’s okay.”
