Page 63 of Surrender to Me
He pulls back, adjusting his sweatpants with that casual efficiency that makes my pulse skip.
The snow is falling thicker now, fat flakes swirling in the gusts, clinging to his dark hair and my lashes. The wind picks up, howling through the pines with a ferocity that rattles the branches, sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.
Stryker moves to the firepit, dousing the flames, the hiss of dying embers mingling with the storm’s moan. Smoke curls up in lazy tendrils, quickly whipped away by the gale. He glances at me, nodding toward the cabin. “After you.”
I lead the way, the porch creaking under our boots, the air biting at my exposed skin. He ushers me inside, his hand firm on the small of my back, and the warmth of the interior hits me like an embrace, chasing away the chill as he locks the door behind us with a decisive click.
“I need to check the security feeds.” His tone shifts. As if he’s flipped a switch, he’s all business now as the protector side of his personality emerges. “Give me a minute.”
I nod, watching as he disappears into that small room off the hallway—the one he’s kept closed since we arrived, a reminder that this sanctuary is still laced with vigilance.
The door shuts with a soft thud, leaving me alone in the living room. The wind’s howl amplifies outside, snow pelting the windows like impatient fingers tapping glass.
My mind races. What’s he seeing? Has Hawkeye uncovered more? The reminder that their agents caught a partial plate twists in my gut.
To distract myself, I shrug off his coat and move to the window and peer out.
In the last few minutes, the wind has basically caused a whiteout. Gusts are driving the snow sideways, blanketing the world in relentless fury. The trees bend under the assault, branches groaning like old bones protesting the weight. It’s beautiful in a wild, unforgiving way—much like Stryker.
The door opens behind me, and he emerges, his expression unreadable, but there’s no new tension in his shoulders. Whatever he’s seen and learned, I know there’s no immediate danger.
His eyes lock onto mine, dark and feral, igniting a spark that races through my veins.
“I want to be sure you’re comfortable enough when I have you naked.”
God. What this man does to me.
He moves to the fireplace, stacking logs with practiced ease, his biceps flexing beneath the flannel, each motion a study in control.
Within seconds, the kindling catches with a spark, and flames curl upward, casting a golden glow. The warmth seeps into my skin, but it’s his gaze—hot, unyielding—that sets my nerves ablaze when he stands and turns to me.
The familiar predatory gleam is back in his eyes—the one that promises more than just warmth from the fire. “If you’re still willing…?”
His question hangs between us, heavy with intent. My heart stutters as a mix of anticipation and nerves flood me.
We’ve danced around this since last night, his hints at deeper surrender, at trust that goes beyond the physical.
I swallow, my throat dry. “Yes.” Or at least I think so.
His gaze holds mine, assessing. Then he nods once, satisfied.
He moves in, close enough that his scent—pine, sweat, raw desire—floods my senses.
“As I said outside, this is about letting go, Allie. About trusting me to lead, and you following exactly.” Gently he takes my shoulders. “Total, unfiltered trust. You mirror my every move, my every touch, exactly as I do it. No thinking. No hesitation. No hiding.”
Stryker’s voice is soft and coaxing.
“The act is sensual, intimate. Builds that connection deeper.”
His words hit like a blade, slicing through my defenses.
The silence stretches between us, with the fire’s crackle and the storm’s roar seeming to amplify my thoughts.
Trust like this, with my history of fumbling, lights-out sex, makes me feel as if I’m baring my soul under a spotlight.
His gaze continues to hold mine in a steady, unflinching way.
Total trust, at least sensually. I can give him that here, in this cabin, with the storm raging outside. It’s a bubble, separate from the lies and secrets clawing at the edges of my mind.
