Terms of Surrender Read online

  But if he climbed into bed with her, if he gathered her into his arms and held her close, she’d know that solace and care were the last things on his mind.

  She definitely didn’t need him going all caveman on her.

  And yet, against all logic and thought, he followed her down the hallway, annoyed with himself, her, and the asshole gunman who’d put them into this spot in the first place.

  “Fine, okay, you can sleep in my bed.” As she turned to face him, hope and relief shining in her eyes, he ignored the rush of pleasure that pumped through his body. “I’m warning you, though, I’m not a saint. If you wake up in the middle of the night and I have my hands on your—” He made a motion of cupping her breasts with his hands, his face heating, and other more interested parts of his body hardening. “You get the point.”

  “Duly warned,” she replied, and as he turned toward the bathroom, she delayed his escape. “Do you mind if I exchange this shirt for something more comfortable?”

  He saw her scratch under the stiff collar and noticed the redness of her skin. Guilt hit him square in the solar plexus. He’d wanted a shirt that would hide her body. Instead, he’d caused her more pain. “Help yourself.”

  As he turned to go, she grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “Thank you.”

  Self-conscious now, he shrugged. “Stop saying thank you all the time. It’s unnecessary. I’d do this for anyone.”

  He escaped into the bathroom and disrobed, the semi-erection he’d had ever since she kissed him now a throbbing boner. As he caught sight of her sexy white panties hanging off the bathtub faucet, he realized that beneath his shirt, she’d been naked.

  Gage turned on the cold water and stepped into the shower.

  In the early morning hours, the air was cool, and he shivered under the cold spray.

  He forced himself to think of other things, like how the temperature outside would spike under the mid-afternoon sun, how the heat waves would shimmer off the black pavement, how the busy streets would be filled with aggravated motorists. By nightfall, tempers would be on the verge of a meltdown and the never-ending cycle of abuse would be revived.

  But not in his house.

  Not in his life.

  He’d keep his cool while everyone around him went insane.

  If only he could explain to Harley that a little bit of hurt to the heart now was far better than to risk a lifetime of pain and abuse. No matter what else he did, no matter how he felt, he’d protect her from men like Henry.

  From men like himself.

  He stayed in the shower until his erection was semi-under control.

  By the time he came out, his brain had almost shut down and his body wanted only two things. Sexual relief and sleep.

  A bead of sweat worked its way down the center of his back, while his exhausted brain grappled with thoughts of Harley in his bed, wearing nothing more than one of his shirts and pink polish on her toenails. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of her during a weak moment. Hero to zero in the blink of an eye.

  He let his eyes adjust to the early morning semi-darkness of the house and when he crossed the hallway to the bedroom doorway, he froze.

  Curled up on his bed, half in, half out of one of his t-shirts, she laid on top of the covers. The shirt he’d loaned her had been discarded on the floor, and she’d managed to get one arm into the t-shirt before she’d toppled over from sheer exhaustion.

  The hem of the cotton t-shirt rested on the top of one shoulder. Partially hidden by her arm, the curve of one breast peeked out at him.

  And the danger zone around him expanded.

  He let his gaze sweep down her half-naked body, past a bruise on her narrow rib cage, over the contoured angles of her belly, past the curve of her hipbone where the sexy white panties should have been, past the scrapes and bruises on the length of naked legs he shouldn’t admire.

  Gage gulped a deep breath of air and felt as though he’d been gut-punched.

  He stared at the round softness of her body, every part of his body tensing, including the one that shouldn’t be noticing that she lay vulnerable and nearly naked before him. Groaning, he clenched his hands into fists and stepped toward the bed.

  Okay, so she’d gone through a traumatic experience last night. He’d gone through the same traumatic experience. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t want him anywhere near her. And he couldn’t take advantage of her to soothe his own weakness.

  He moved closer to the bed, rested one knee on the edge, and before he even touched her, she jackknifed to a sitting position, struggled against the constriction of the t-shirt, her frightened cry slicing through his heart. He kept his voice calm and soft. “It’s me, sweetheart. Wake up.”

  As she focused on him, the panic in her gaze cleared, replaced by utter confusion. “Gage? Where am I? What are you doing here?”

  He took in the cut near her temple, the growing bruise on her chin, the vulnerability that had left her in his care. Do not take advantage of the victim. “You’re spending the night at my house. You wanted to sleep in my bed.”

  Careful not to startle her, he tugged the t-shirt down and over her naked breasts, until it covered her midriff and the sweet gem hidden at the junction of her thighs. By the time he was done, he was breathing as though he’d just returned from a morning run.

  “I remember.” She flopped back on the bed and covered her eyes with her hand, the t-shift riding up to bare her flat stomach and the tempting mound below. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess, such an intrusion.”

  He tugged the t-shirt down to her thighs, cleared the gruffness from his voice, and kept his focus above the neckline and off his ultimate fantasy—Harley in his bed, naked and willing. “Let’s get some sleep. It’ll be morning in a couple of hours.”

  Gage headed around to the other side of the bed and climbed in, aware of Harley sliding under the sheets next to him. Even though the heat of her body beckoned him closer, he diligently kept to his edge of the bed.

  In the semi-darkness of the room, her soft voice drifted over to him. “Goodnight, Gage.”

  He grunted his reply, doubting he’d be able to sleep with her so close.

  And yet, what seemed like minutes later, he woke to the warmth of the sun on his face. He pulled himself from the dark depths of his dreams to the temptation of the woman curled into him, the scent of his soap still sweet on her skin.

  Her small breast fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. Unable to resist, he smoothed his other hand down her delicate rib cage, narrow waist, and over the gentle flare of her naked hip. She stirred, her sweetly curved bottom rubbing against him, and every male cell in his body stood to attention.

  Harley. The name whispered through his thoughts.

  What had they done?

  What had he done?

  It all flashed back. The domestic crisis. A frightened Harley in his bed, begging him to let her stay the night.

  A creak of the hallway floorboards brought his sleep fogged mind to full alert and Gage pried open one eye, and stifled a groan as he pried open the other one.

  His mom, Frances Toryn, stood in the open doorway.

  Her blue-on-blue eyes swept the room and widened with surprise as she took in the extra body on his bed. Her hand fluttered to her throat and her mouth crooked up into a weak smile. “Excuse me. I didn’t realize you had an overnight guest.”

  A yawn came from the beneath the blankets. Harley rolled up on one elbow, scraped the hair back from her face, and froze.

  In a heartbeat, Gage evaluated his options.

  He could shove her back under the covers, maybe offer a suggestion or two about what she could do while she was down there.

  Or he could pull the blankets over their heads, and hope that his mom took the hint and hightailed it back home.

  Frances gasped and stepped further into the room. “Hannah?”

  Fuck, here we go again.

  Harley bolted upright, pulling up the sheet to cover her shoulde
rs as though she were naked beneath the blankets. “Oh no, I’m—Harley.”

  She glanced at Gage.

  With a sigh, he pushed up to sit beside her, crooking one knee to hide his morning hard-on. “This is Hannah’s twin, Mom. You met her at Mike’s wedding and when his girls got christened. Remember?”

  “Oh, my…oh, of course, you’re Harley. Hannah is—” She touched her fingers to her mouth and gave a sorrowful laugh. “How silly of me. We miss your sister so much and you look exactly the same.”

  “I’m sorry.” The embarrassment disappeared, replaced by a moment of sadness, until the morning flush on Harley’s cheeks deepened into full-fledged embarrassment. She glanced at Gage and as horror widened her eyes, shifted away from him. She waved one hand between them. “This isn’t what it seems, Mrs. Toryn.”

  His mom took another step into the room, her smile widening. “Please, call me Frances.”

  Gage stifled a groan. “I’ll explain later, Mom. For now, could we—”

  As though he hadn’t spoken, Frances sat down on the edge of the bed near Harley’s feet and reached out to pat his raised knee. Her gaze never left his bed partner’s face. “I’m not here to judge, my dear. In fact, I’m extraordinarily pleased to find you here. His father and I were beginning to worry that for some odd reason, women might not like our son.”

  Gage felt his cheeks heat and firmed his jaw. “Some privacy, Mom?”

  The older woman’s cheeks turned rosy and she quickly jumped to her feet. “Of course. I didn’t mean to interrupt—” She waved her hand between them and a nervous laugh escaped. “—whatever you were doing.”

  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “We were sleeping, Mom. Harley is an old friend.”

  That used to make my eyes cross with lust.

  Still does.

  “Well, I popped in to let you know that your dad and I are here to water your plants.”

  “Mom, you know that’s not necessary—”

  “Tell that to your dad. He shouldn’t even be out in this heat, but he insists the flowerpots need to be moved. And, well, you know I wouldn’t bother you, except your dad isn’t well enough to do this work alone.” Her gaze slid to Harley once more. “It was nice to meet you again, dear. I hope we’ll see more of you.”

  With another Cheshire cat smile, his mom retraced her steps down the hallway and out the back door into the yard.

  Gage remained where he was, unsure what to say or do except, “Sorry. They have a key to the place.”

  Harley threw back the covers and shoved him flat on his back, using her body like an ineffective paperweight to hold him down. “Great, now your mom thinks I’m easy.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” He breathed out a frustrated breath. “Besides, if you’d been sleeping in the spare bed instead of here with me, you could have snuck out of the house without her even noticing you.”

  Gage reached for her with the intention of pushing her off.

  She grabbed his wrists and shoved his arms back onto the pillow. “Stay put. I’m not done with you yet.”

  If this was her idea of punishment, she wouldn’t get a single complaint from him.

  “What’s wrong with your dad?”

  Gage remained passive beneath her, willing his body to behave, knowing full well it was a lost battle. A morning hard-on was difficult enough to get rid of, but this Harley-induced lust would be impossible. “Angina.”

  She shifted her weight and frowned, releasing one of his wrists to reach down between them. “Did you bring your gun to bed?”

  Gage stopped breathing.

  Her eyes became saucers against the paleness of her face, but instead of pulling back as he expected, she let her hand linger at his crotch, and offered him a naughty smile. “Maybe you and I should become friends with benefits.”

  He choked back the groan of desire slipping up his throat. “Fuck, Harley.”

  She jerked her hand away from his crotch, let go of his wrist, and pushed off of him. “Yeah, exactly what I suggested.”

  Gage sat up on the edge of the bed and, dragging the blanket around his hips to cover his erection, pushed to his feet. As the blood rushed from his brain to his lower extremities, he experienced a moment of dizziness. Slowly, he faced her.

  She was kneeling on the bed, bunching the t-shirt in her hands, causing the hem to inch up her thighs, tantalizing him with the first thought he’d had upon waking.

  Harley Jane Davis had the softest skin.

  “I’m not asking for a ring, Gage. Just some sexual relief once in a while. It’s not like there’s an abundance of guys available in town and sometimes I want—ack, never mind.” She huffed out her exasperation, turned her back on him, and climbed off the bed, the t-shirt riding up to reveal the smooth curve of her buttocks. “If this is your morning-after strategy, it sucks.”

  “Makes you want to leave, doesn’t it?”

  She gave a self-depreciative laugh and bent at the waist. “Oh yeah.”

  The t-shirt rode up to her hip, revealing another inch of her buttocks, and his body responded in a wave of heat. As she straightened and wrinkled her nose at the dirty scrubs she held out between them, Gage forced air into his lungs.

  “Mind if I rummage through your closet for something to wear home. I promise I’ll return them later.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Silence.

  She rolled the scrubs into a ball, tucked them under her arm, turned on her heel, and headed across the room toward his closet, the edges of his t-shirt caressing her back end.

  Gage had enough experience in tense situations to know that sometimes it was safer to walk away. He didn’t know who was in more danger. Harley or himself.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Harley stopped in front of the closet and a shiver of desire coursed through her body.

  How long had it been since she’d allowed a man into her life? No complications. No commitments. Just sex for the sake of sex.

  She could still feel the imprint of Gage’s body, the warmth of his naked chest against her hands, the tangle of his legs with hers, the undeniably masculine reaction pressed against her lower belly.

  And even though he’d had his hands all over her, after the appearance of his mother, he’d withdrawn both physically and emotionally. If the older woman hadn’t shown up when she did, would things have turned out different?

  Probably not. Gage had more control than any other man she knew.

  “Finding anything?”

  With a shrug, she stared at the closet of clothes and thought about how he towered above her and how tiny she felt beside him. “I don’t think you’ll have anything to fit.”

  He stepped into the closet behind her, and reached around her to rifle through the contents. The warmth of his body sent another shiver up her spine and goose bumps broke out on her skin.

  Even though he didn’t touch her, she felt boxed in between his body and the wall of clothes. Every breath she took, she inhaled the combined scent of his soap and deodorant.

  Oh baby. If she didn’t squeak out a word or two pretty soon, he’d have to pick her up off the floor.

  He dragged a t-shirt and sweatpants out of the back of the closet and shoved it into her arms, his voice gruff as he said, “Here, this will have to do.”

  Harley closed her arms around the clothes, but he was still behind her so she couldn’t escape. He reached past her again, pulled out a shirt and jeans, and backed away.

  She turned around to face him and watched as he dropped the sheet, and pulled on the jeans, leaving the fly and button open.

  His chest was all hard muscle and rippling abs, and her palms itched with the desire to touch him again. But she knew that wouldn’t happen.

  Once she walked out his door, there was no way he’d let her back in. She’d go back to her life and he’d go back to his. And even though there’d been that moment in bed, by the look on his face now, he had himself back under control.

  Why couldn’t he be like
every other red-blooded male species on the planet and take advantage of her? Why did he have to play the boy next door, cautious of her reputation, careful to keep his hands above her neckline on the first date?

  She wished she could turn off her emotions so easily. God, she wanted him to wrap her in his arms, kiss the breath from her body, and make her forget everything except for him.

  Harley mentally recorded the images she saw. His hair tousled from sleep. A shadow of whiskers across his chin and cheeks. His bare chest gleaming in the morning sunlight. As he eased his arms into the sleeves of his shirt, and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, dragging them down so the top edges of his boxers showed, he sidestepped toward the door. His voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “I was going to suggest that you stay for as long as you want, but we both know it’s a bad idea. There’s no doubt in my mind that as long as you’re here, you’re not safe.”

  “Safe?”

  When had it turned from sex to concern about her safety? Harley stared up at him and he stared back until finally—finally—she detected a glimmer of something in his eyes.

  Guilt.

  What did he feel guilty about? Maybe he could tell that she was still scared to return home alone.

  It was definitely time to hightail it out. Vamoose. Disappear before the guilt overwhelmed him and he changed his mind. In which case, there’d be even more guilt for him to deal with. And she knew how guilt could tear a person apart. She had a boatload of her own. She slung the t-shirt and sweats over her forearm. “Right. I’ll get changed, grab my things, and clear out.”

  With one hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged and picked at a piece of lint on the sweat pants. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

  She felt his steady gaze on her, until finally she heard the rustle of his bare feet against the carpet. She raised her gaze in time to see his tall frame and broad shoulders disappear out the doorway and into the hallway. By the time she changed, slipped on the panties she’d washed last night, and followed him into the kitchen, he’d already escaped to the back yard.