Suzanna's Surrender

He covered her. He filled her. Watching her face in the watery morning sunlight, he knew he would never be content unless she was with him.

“You're mine.” He threw the words out like a curse as her body shuddered beneath his. “Say it” His hands fisted on the sheets and he buried his face against her throat “Damn it, Suzanna, say it.”

She could say nothing but his name as he dragged her over the edge.

When her hands slid limply from his back, he rolled over, locking her close so that she lay over him. He could be content with her head resting on his heart. He told himself that he'd already pushed her hard and fast enough. But he'd wanted badly to hear the words.

His hands were fisted in her hair. As if, she thought dizzily, he would yank her back if she tried to move. Her body felt achy and bruised and glorious. She smiled, listening to the rapid thud of his heart and the liquid beauty of morning bird song.

Her eyes flew open, her head up. He did pull her hair, but more from reflex than intent. “It's moming,” Suzanna said.

“That usually happens when the sun comes up.” “No, I – ouch.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, and reluctantly released her hair. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“Yeah.” He ran his hands up and down her back. He liked the long, smooth feel of it. “You dozed off before I could interest you in another round.”

Her color fluctuated, but when she tried to scramble up, he held her firmly in place.

“Going somewhere?”

“I have to get home. Aunt Coco must be frantic.”

“She knows where you are.” Because it was easier to keep her in place, he reversed positions again and began to nibble at her throat. Nothing could have pleased him more than feeling the instant quickening of her pulse under his lips. “And in all likelihood, she's got a pretty good idea what you've been up to.”

Without much hope of dislodging him, she pushed at his shoulder. “I didn't tell her where I was going.”

“I called her last night when I let Sadie in. Scratch my back, will you? Base of the spine.”

She obliged automatically, even while her thoughts spun. “You – you told my aunt that I...”

“I told her you were with me. I figure she could put the rest together. That's good. Thanks.”

Suzanna let out a long breath. Oh yes, Aunt Coco wouldn't have any trouble adding two and two. And there was absolutely no reason to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed. But she was both. Not only relating to her aunt but to the man whose naked body was spread over hers.

It had been one thing to face him at night. But the morning... He lifted his head to study her. “What's the problem?”

“Nothing.” When he lifted a brow she shifted in what passed for a shrug. “It's just that I'm not sure what to do now. I've never done this before.”

He grinned at her. “How'd you get two kids?”

“I don't mean that I've never...I mean I've never...”

His grin only widened. “Well, get used to it, babe.” Considering, he trailed a finger over her jawline. “Want me to help you out with morning – after etiquette?”

“I want you to stop leering at me.”

“No, you see that's part of the form.” He replaced his trailing finger with a light nip of his teeth. “I'm supposed to leer at you in the morning so you don't start feeling that you look like a hag.”

“A –” The word caught in her throat. “A hag?” “And you're supposed to tell me I was incredible.”

Her brow lifted. “I am?”

“That, and any other superlatives you can come up with. Then –” he rolled her over again “ – you're supposed to go fix me breakfast, to show me your talents are versatile.”

“I can't tell you how grateful I am that you're filling me in on the procedure.”

“No problem. And after you fix me breakfast, you should seduce me back into bed.”

She laughed and pressed her cheek to his in a move that disarmed and delighted him. “I'll have to practice up on that, but I could probably handle a couple of scrambled eggs.”

“Let me know if you find any.” “Have you got a robe?”

“What for?”

She looked up again. He was still leering. “Never mind.” Sliding away, she instinctively turned her back as she groped on the floor for his shirt. “And what do you do while I'm fixing breakfast?”

He caught the ends of her hair, let them shift through his fingers. “I watch you.”

And he enjoyed it, seeing her move around his kitchen, his shirt skimming her thighs with the scent of coffee ripening the air and her voice low and amused as she spoke to the dog.

She felt more at ease here, with familiar chores. The bush they had planted was a cloud of sunlight outside the window, and the breeze still smelled of rain.

“You know,” she said as she grated cheese into the eggs, “you could use more than a toaster, one pot and a skillet.”

“Why?” He kicked back in the chair and took a comfortable drag on his cigarette.

“Well, some people actually use this room to prepare entire meals.”

“Only if they haven't heard of take-out.” He saw that the coffee had dripped through and rose to pour them both a cup. “What do you take in this?”

“Just black. I need the kick.”

“If you ask me, what you need is more sleep.”