Surrender to You (9 page)

Around two
A.M.
, I'd stumbled into my minuscule apartment—with a minor stomachache. Damn cross-contamination got me again.

I wouldn't call myself drunk. More like slightly inebriated, just enough to make poor decisions. Like
not
setting my alarm clock.

As to be expected, I got to work two hours late. Not only did I wake up with my mouth open, my intestinal tract still messed up, and my legs hanging off the bed as if I had planned to sleepwalk somewhere, I didn't even have time to iron my clothes.

So I snuck in to work wearing horribly wrinkled clothes befitting a night of drunken disregard, and I hoped Mr. Butts wasn't lying in wait to question my tardiness. I hurried to cram my purse into my employee locker. My head pounded a bit, and within my fog, perhaps I could believe I was holding a balloon in my hand. Someone had stuffed balloons into my locker, along with a small bouquet of pink roses.

Another gift from my friends?

There was no way the concierge desk would leave these things in here, though. I checked the bouquet and found a small card inside: “Happy birthday from Mr. Goodfellow.”

My heart jumped into my throat.

So he remembered.

I plucked everything out of the locker and took it back to my desk. All the while, I couldn't shake the questions in my head.

None of them would be answered unless I confronted Tomas, but that couldn't be done until my break time. I hurried to Dante's Second Floor and checked the concierge desks.

The hours slowly passed, though. Headache medication lifted the fog in my brain, but I couldn't shake the need to know what was up. The moment my break came, I marched straight to his office on the third floor, ready to find out why he didn't come see me yesterday, but he wasn't there.

His secretary, Wendy, greeted me. “Mr. Goodfellow isn't available. You're Carlie, right?” Her smile was sweet for a woman I'd call very beautiful. “I hope you liked the gifts Mr. Goodfellow got for you.”

“He went out and bought them?”

Wendy chuckled a bit. “Not really, but he told me what you liked. Also, that you loved pink roses and how you always wanted to get balloons on your birthday as a kid, but no one ever got them for you.”

“Yeah.” I wasn't sure what to say about that. All these years and he'd never sent me flowers or balloons on my birthday. An ocean had separated us, but this time he'd reached out to me, even after I'd pushed him away.

“He should be back around two
P.M.
if you'd like to come back?”

“I won't be able to get away again to see him.” I took a step back to retreat.

“Why not right now then?” a deep voice said.

I turned around to see Tomas standing behind me.

I approached Sophie. “If I hadn't escaped from my lunch meeting so early, I might've never had a chance to corner you.”

The smell of her sweet perfume filled my nostrils and I wanted to draw her close to me.

“I have to get back to work,” she murmured.

I shrugged. “I could write you a note.”

She snorted and her nose lifted in that cute way I liked. “Are you a principal now?”

“Would you like for me to be?”

Her lips parted and she feigned disinterest and failed.

“Come into my office, Ms. Jason.”

She followed me into my suite and closed the double doors after us.

“I just wanted to thank you for the flowers and the balloons. That was very sweet.”

I settled onto my white leather couch and beckoned for her to sit next to me. Instead of adding space between us, she sat with her left knee mere inches from mine.

“I still remember the day when I took you to that birthday party.” She didn't say anything while I spoke. “When Andrea got those flowers and balloons, your eyes were so wide.”

“How is that spoiled brat? Is she still living off her trust fund in Europe?”

“Pretty much, but that was her fate.” I turned to look at her. She was so beautiful I could look at her all day. “Can you imagine all the freedoms you have compared to Andrea, though? All the money in the world won't buy you people who truly care about you. The only time she sees her family is when they feel like it. She has
acquaintances
. They spend time with her because of her status and not for friendship.”

We sat for a bit. “Have you eaten lunch yet?” I asked.

“I'm not hungry. I sort of ate on the run this morning.”

“What did you have?” Yep, I was digging, but I knew she wouldn't reveal anything.

“The standard fare for employees who run late: two yogurt parfaits, a Starbucks double shot energy drink, and I topped all that off with a rather large bag of mixed nuts.” She didn't look at me while she replied.

“No bagel buried in cream cheese?”

She shook her head and glanced at me. “Those tend to weigh me down.” Her eyes reflected the truth this time.

Her thick blond hair followed the curve of her cheek. I didn't stop myself from drawing my finger along her jaw to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Unlike two parfaits, a drink, and a bag of mixed nuts.”

Her voice trailed off. “Unlike two parfaits, a drink…”

She licked her lips and faced me. “I'd like to see you again.”

“No text message this time?”

“We didn't exactly plan our last encounter.”

So us having sex was an
encounter
now. At least she wanted to spend time with me.

“No, we didn't, but that made the experience much more pleasurable.”

I watched the way her chest rose and fell faster and the way her hands formed fists. When my fingertips brushed against the swell of her breast, she leaned toward my hand.

“Why meet tonight?” I breathed. “Why not right now?”

I ached for him to hold me. All morning I couldn't stop thinking about him, from the moment I got up to the moment I walked through the door to the hotel. I wanted to do anything he wanted.

“Right now?” I asked.

“Come here, Carlie.” His request was a plea and not a command. I didn't hesitate to take off my heels and stand before him.

“Take off that skirt.”

I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor. The look in his eyes, as if he wanted to devour me, climbed up the back of my thighs and caressed along the middle of my back. He didn't give me long to stand there in only my shirt and panties. He drew me into his lap and forced my legs apart to straddle him. How wonderfully we fit together, his hands on my ass, my chest against his.

He pulled me closer until my forehead rested against his mouth. A warm feeling filled my chest, and the comfort I'd needed for so long almost overwhelmed me.

I sucked in a breath from the sweet pleasure of his lips brushing across my skin. My fingers drifted down his chest until my right hand rested over his pebbled nipple. One hard rub was a dare, but a continuous pressure was a promise. I wouldn't leave this time. I'd stay until the very end.

His lips lingered close to the bridge of my nose. We shared breaths now. A heavenly sigh snuck out of my mouth as he pushed my core against his cock. I wanted him. I wanted all of him over and over again.

I rocked against him and he gripped my ass harder until the pain was hard to take, but I didn't give in. I knew what was coming and I was ready to accept him. He was moving lower. Even lower until he brushed against my upper lip. He was so close I caught the mintiness of his warm breath. So teasingly close. I was so tempted to open my mouth and kiss back. Yet even when he ran his tongue along my upper lip, I didn't respond.

The moan I fought against reached painful levels. I'd give him everything except that.

Gently, he pulled me up to stand. Instead of yanking my underwear down, he slowly slipped my panties off, only to kiss the skin my panties touched. I stepped out of them. With deft practice, he unbuttoned my blouse and slid it off me. The hard look on his face told me I would enjoy what was about to happen.

Touch me,
I wanted to beg. He was going too slow.
Taste me,
I wanted to scream.

The moment my bra came off, he latched onto one breast. Just watching him lick along my gold nipple ring sent a violent shudder down my back to my inner thighs. His thumb penetrated me and I had to hold on to his shoulders to stay standing.

“Damn,” I breathed.

“I might just give you what you want today.”

“Really?”

He added a finger inside me. “If that's what I want.”

I wanted to give him anything he wanted. Giving him pleasure gave me pleasure.

As quickly as my desire heightened, his tempo increased until he withdrew. Quickly, I fell to my knees and opened his pants. His length sprang forth and my eager mouth sucked in the tip.

I loved watching his reactions while I licked his cock. Every twitch made me want to take all of him deeper into my mouth. I ran my fingers along his length. Every single inch was magnificent. I opened my mouth farther to take him deeper. Taking Tomas into my mouth stretched my mouth to its limit, but tasting his salty, almond musk left me heady with eagerness. Even as I gripped his muscular thighs, I trembled against him.

For a moment I pulled back, but he took a fistful of my hair and made me hold still.
That's it.
There was the Tomas I remembered. He pushed in and out of my mouth. Taking his pleasure as the tension in my scalp reached a blissful level.

Yes, I wanted all of it. All the pain and pleasure.

I handed myself over to him. He pumped faster to the point where I could barely breathe. My limbs grew weak, but I continued to suck, I continued to watch him watch me. His beautiful brown eyes taking me in. Watching me pleasure him until he came into my mouth. His body stiffened, but he didn't climax.

He pulled me back onto his lap on the couch. I slid down onto his length, my body shuddering from being filled up. It was always like this between us. A feverish heat that left my blood heated, my heart pounding, and a sheen of sweat along my back.

I rode him, rising and falling with our quickening breaths. Pressure built in my stomach. Damn, he filled me with each downward stroke until I was panting.

I rested against the crook of his neck, my favorite place to ride out the oncoming climax, but he wouldn't allow any such a thing.

He pushed me backward.

I was back in the position I didn't want to be in. Chest to chest. His mouth close to mine. The heat between us rose higher and higher, the sounds of our bodies meeting filling the large space. I grabbed his shoulders, unable to hold back my rising cries.

He nibbled against my chin again. My gaze flicked to his and the look he gave me sent me crashing under the waves.

Her glossy lips were a witches' brew I wanted to resist today, but I couldn't fight the need to kiss her. Watching her suck my cock had been torture. Even harder was when she'd licked my nipples and suckled along my skin.

Those delicious lips beckoned me to sample them. To devour them.

If I told her to kiss me, she would without a doubt.

But I didn't want that. I wanted all of her.

Her body gripped my cock to the point of agony. She closed her eyes briefly and I took in her features. The way her breasts bounced with the beautiful nipples shaking with each downward stroke. The glossy tingle to her lips when she licked them. I wanted to take that lower lip into my mouth and suck on it.

I settled for her jaw instead.

Then her neckline.

I sampled her skin in the places she wanted me to touch. All the while, I lingered near the place I really wanted to be. The corner of her mouth. The indentation below her lower lip. I sucked, nipped, and tickled.

The tension building along my thighs toward my cock grew painful. Above me, Carlie's beautiful face stretched into a grimace and she climaxed, her body arching and her eyes glowing from finding bliss.

“That's it,
Coraçao
.”

I wasn't far behind her. I drew her close to me again. Our bodies worked as one. A sensual dance where the beginnings and endings of our bodies met. This would have to do. This wonderful feeling I had knowing I'd be able to hold her close like this. She'd run away from me again, but for now, as I shuddered and reached my climax, she belonged to me, body and soul.

Leaving my employer's office after having sex with him wasn't the experience I'd expected on the day after my birthday, but I had to admit I had a bit of a skip to my step on the way to the elevator.

I was in a haze for the rest of the day. Focusing on work was near impossible, and he kept texting me.

Tomas:
You left your jacket in my office.

Me:
I'll get it later, I'm working.

Another one came as I was checking the library.
You can come and get it now if you like.

Me:
I'm sure I could get right back on your lap, too.

Tomas:
Multiple times, I guarantee.

I snorted like a fool in front of Mr. Ericson in the library.

He had a rather nice tan today.

By the time I was ready to finish up for the day, he sent me another text.
I can see you won't be fetching your jacket, so I had it dry-cleaned. You'll find it in your locker tomorrow morning.

I texted back thanks and was grateful he didn't ask for more of my time. Parting was always the hardest thing between us.

My lips tingled as I recalled the last time we'd kissed. Damn, I'd dodged a bullet. Good thing I hadn't kissed him. When we'd parted last time, I remembered the pain from crying so hard. The way his lips tasted and how I didn't want to remember how good it felt to share something so intimate with someone.

My day brightened a bit more when I saw Carver motion me over to chat with him. He was his relaxed self in a dark purple T-shirt and blue jeans. The shoelaces for his Timberland boots lay pooled around his feet.

He smiled at me and the burdens I carried overnight lifted a bit. “Hey, Jason!”

“What's up?”

He slowly grinned. “I know you didn't want my help…”

“No, I didn't.” I immediately knew where this was going, but it was hard for me to be mad about it.

“I had my boys do some looking and I've got some good news for you. According to my guy, he's narrowed down the number of Patricia Halls to four. He's followed one of them and figured out that she wasn't your mother.”

“How was that?”

“You don't look Dominican to me.”

“So? There are white people there.”

“Good point. If you're Dominican though, I've read you wrong this whole time.”

I snorted. “You haven't seen everything.”

He was quiet for a bit. When I moved to leave, he spoke up. “I do have more news for you…I wasn't sure how to bring it up.”

My heart sank. “What's wrong?”

“I found Frank Hall, your father.”

Dread sucked me in, and I knew what he was about to say before he spoke. “He's dead, isn't he?”

He nodded. “I'm sorry, Carlie. We found a death certificate.”

I hurried to change the subject. Mourning the loss of my dad would happen tonight when I could be alone. “So what about the last three? Can I get addresses? Maybe check them out on my own?”

His eyebrow rose. “Are you sure? You just found out—”

“Why not?”

He slowly nodded, understanding. “Got any time off coming soon?”

“What do you mean?”

“We could go check it out.”

“Only with dinner and a movie, too?”

“Not really, I'm not the movie type.”

I chuckled. “You're more live action.”

He tilted his head when a woman across the room smiled at him from her group of friends. “You could say that.”

“Look, I've got Tuesday off. I owe a friend of mine a shopping trip, so how about we go after that?” I picked up his old drink since I had a fresh one to replace it. I'd be back in an hour with another refill.

“Sounds good.”

I pushed his fresh cup of green goo his way. “Drink up, Carver. I can't have you passing out on me since you snuck some pie this morning.”

“Your kitchen is full of traitors.”

I took a step back and tried to fight the rising discomfort in my stomach. Carver's news was finally sinking in. “Thanks again for everything.”

“Not a problem. Stan's happy he doesn't have to chase after deadbeats for a while.” He shrugged.

I turned away to take the old drink back to the kitchen. When I glanced over my shoulder briefly, I caught Carver looking away.

Doing a memorial for a man I didn't know proved difficult that night. I would've liked to think I had more in me than a large bouquet of white lilies and two boxes of organic, gluten-free fried chicken TV dinners, but that's what I had. Damn, I wished I could cook something nice.

With everything arranged nicely on my tiny kitchenette table, I turned on my TV and switched the channel to ESPN. I mean, hey, why not? If my dad were like me, he'd appreciate a good time watching hockey instead of a dried-up drama on the next channel.

I touched the flowers fondly and managed a half smile.

“Here's looking at you, Dad…” I raised my glass of port to the flowers and then took a sip. On the second sip, my glass didn't make it to my mouth as a singular thought slammed into my gut:
I didn't even get a chance to say hello.

The pain hurt worse than one of my stomachaches.

I didn't even have a picture of him to recall his face. I didn't even have any tears to give him, either.

A tiny bite of food reached my mouth and I grimaced. The breading on the chicken tasted horrific, too. My dad probably would've gotten a laugh out of that one. I'd like to think he had a sour sense of humor like mine.

The mixed vegetables weren't too bad, so I had a nice little vegetarian meal. Tumbleweeds floated past the chicken.

A fistfight between two players broke out and I smiled wistfully. “That's the last time I'm eating that shit, Dad.”

Two days later, as I'd promised Penny and her roommate Lana, we went out to lunch and browsed a few shops beforehand. Promise wasn't the right word. Perhaps coerced would be better. I let them choose our lunch—and they chose an Italian restaurant off Boylston Street near the Boston Public Garden—so I got to be tortured the whole time. Even with the perfect clear skies and the expansive view of the gardens across the street, I thought I'd die from watching them eat.

“Oh, c'mon,” Penny spouted as she devoured the final bites of her chicken parmesan. “The least you can do is spend some time with me. I had to reschedule a few key clients today.”

Lana grinned as she finished her chicken cacciatore.
Oh man, that aroma is killing me softly.
The pretty redhead, Sophie's and Penny's roommate and a first-year medical student, had tagged along for a free meal.

I glanced down at my plate. My meal was a chicken Caesar salad with the soup of the day: chicken noodle. If I saw another piece of chicken this week, I'd scream and start running. Penny got me a menu with the gluten-free options, but after last night's subpar meal, I wasn't too excited about eating gluten-free at the moment. What I craved was the
taste
of foods I shouldn't eat. It was almost like comparing wheat bread to white bread. Both were delicious, don't get me wrong, but your taste buds damn well knew the difference between the two. And right now I'd do a table dance to have a full plate of gluten-filled spaghetti topped with meat sauce and huge-ass meatballs. Sprinkle some parmesan on that sucker and I'd be the happiest belle at the ball, but I knew it'd screw up my digestive tract, so I ate one of the healthiest things on the menu.

I'd just have to adapt, and that meant watching them eat. While they were eating, I got Penny caught up on my search for my parents.

“I'm so sorry about your dad,” Penny said as she scraped her plate. I was grateful for the noise. “At least you're one step closer to finding your mom. How do you like working at Goodfellow Tower?”

“It's fine. Just another hotel.”

“You sound bored.” The waiter took Penny's plate. One less distraction.

“I just want to find my mother and get back to the U.K. I'm meeting this guy in a bit to go check out someone.”

“Sounds like fun,” Lana added. “Maybe this lady will be your mom.”

I couldn't help smiling from the warm feeling I kept having at the thought.

“Maybe she might be—but don't let your heart get broken. Just because you can find her doesn't mean she wants to be found—” Penny began.

“Don't do this shit,” I said, trying to sound nice. “This is important to me, Penny.” Over the years, I'd gotten a less than enthusiastic response from Penny and Sophie. Neither of them had ever expressed an interest in finding out their own origins.

Those people abandoned you,
Penny would quip.
The way I see it, my bios did me a favor when they left me wandering the streets.
Sophie's mom had left her at the hospital, but my situation was different. I had been left in foster care at around eight months old. Which meant for several months, my mother had held me, fed me when I'd cried, and loved me.

That's what I want to believe.

Fifteen minutes later, we wrapped up lunch, but Penny's words weighed heavily on me. Lana said her goodbyes and ran to catch a bus while Penny lingered with her chatty self. As usual.

I caught Carver coming around the corner. He strode up to us wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. His usual ensemble for Dante's Second Floor.

I turned to Penny. “Okay, so I don't want to keep you from your plans for the day. I'm sure there's somebody with a boner waiting for your call—”

“Hey, Carlie.” He towered over all of us—even tall, modelesque Penny.

She glanced from me to Carver. The sly grin on her face widened. “Is this the friend you're meeting?”

“Yeah.” I introduced Penny to Carver Murphy.

She reached out, and they shook hands. “Nice, big hands,” she remarked.

Oh, hell the fuck no.
She used the
voice
. This guy was a client at my hotel and not one of her phone sex customers.

I faked checking my cellphone. “Looks like we should get going.”

“My car is around the corner,” Carver said. He looked Penny up and down with interest and I tried to hold back a laugh. With Carver in front of me, I couldn't fill Penny in on what kind of man he was, but they were grown-ass adults, they'd figure it out.

“Mind if I tag along?” Penny asked. “For moral support, of course.”

“Do you mind?” I asked him. Penny was one of my besties. As long as she kept her mouth shut.

“Not a problem.” He led us back to his black Lincoln Navigator and he got into the driver's seat.

Boylston Street was packed with cars. I was surprised he'd found a parking space.

As I slid into the passenger seat, I saw the look of pure joy on Penny's face and shook my head with a smile. Who was I to deny her some man candy?

“What's that smell?” I asked. The whole interior, from the polished leather seats to the pimped-out dashboard, smelled minty with a hint of something saccharine.

“That's spiced candy. The kind you get during Christmas.” He headed north until we hit Storrow Drive.

As we drove west down the six-lane parkway, I asked about the smell. “Why no new-car smell?” I asked with a laugh.

“You're asking the man with a sugar addiction why his car smells like this?”

Good point.

We drove for a bit and I couldn't stop my hands from shaking so I placed them in my lap. “So where are we going?”

“You'll see.” His smile was reassuring. “Are you sure you want to come along?”

“I've been waiting so long to do this.” Even Penny's jokes wouldn't pry me from this car.

For the rest of the way, we drove in silence to the southwest—until Penny sent me a text message:
hey c, has tall, dark, and tasty got a girlfriend?

Me:
I dunno. I don't ask that kind of thing.

Penny:
oh lawd, he is fine. I just want to rub his bald head against my tits.

Me:
you are so wrong for that…

Penny:
don't be mad 'cause my rack is bigger than yours.

Me:
whatever, just be nice to him.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Penny's fingers creeping up the side of the seat. She'd almost reached his arm when Carver spoke up.

“How long have you two known each other?” Carver asked me.

“Since we were kids. We grew up together,” I replied.

“So where did you meet Carlie?” Penny asked. She knew damn well where I'd met him and pried like a pro.

“I travel a lot, but for the past couple of weeks I've been staying at the hotel where your friend works,” he said.

“Oh, really.” She leaned forward in the seat, placing her hands on his shoulders. Penny was practically straining against the seat belt. “Even though I work from home, I adore traveling. Where do you hail from?”

“Chicago born and bred. And you?”

“New York City.”

The two continued to gab, but when Carver turned off onto Elm Street in the Sumner Hill neighborhood of Jamaica Plain, my breath quickened and sweat lined my palms. Their conversation faded away and I took in every street and nook and cranny. Was this my mom and dad's neighborhood? Had they lived here for years before my dad passed away? This historic district was one of the nicer ones. Not as well-to-do as Back Bay, but if my mom lived here that meant she'd done well for herself.

From one tree-lined street to another, turn after turn, anticipation built in my stomach.

Finally, we reached a street with a beautiful cobblestone wall. All the houses along this street, many of them offset from the road, were breathtaking, ornate Italianate-style homes. I'd always been a sucker for classical architecture. Our final destination was a beautiful mustard yellow house, with dark brown trim, sheltered among oak trees. The lot wasn't too big, but the small circular driveway boasted the owner's wealth.