Surrender (Harris Brothers, #4)

by Amy Daws

Vi groans. “I know, Gareth. But it’s hard. They are a special brand of stupid.”

“Yeah, it’s Sloan. I met your Callie Baby, was it?” I hook my thumb toward the door. “I saw her downstairs. She seems fun. Did she forget her pants up here?” I look around the room, scowling over how the cream fitted sheet is popped off of one corner of the bed. “I wondered if she forgot her pants because I don’t think that leather strip around her vagina classifies as a skirt. She really should consider hiring me to style her. Her footwear indicates she can afford me.”

That’s what my idiot of a brother, Tanner, calls my home. A stiffy palace. A sex mansion. A bone-a-thon fortress. I could keep going because his obnoxious phrases are endless, but repeating them might actually make me as stupid as him.

How much of herself does she suppress every day just to keep other people happy? Who keeps Sloan happy?

“I’ve never had a term of endearment.” I’ve never been inspired to give one, is what I think.

“Tell me what to do. Give me an order. Whatever you want. You’re not out of control right now, Sloan. You are completely in control. With me. I give it all to you.”

“Will you drop to your knees?” she asks, wringing her hands together in front of her. I look at her like she’s reading my fucking mind. “Will you demand it?” I want to hear the order. I crave it. Her jaw tightens. “Drop to your knees.”

“Treacle”—he utters my nickname with such reverence it makes my knees weak—“it’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want to give me.”

“I can sew, Gareth,” I state, walking around his kneeling form to stand behind him. “I can sew really well. And while I have only ever bought you designer clothes, I have this fantasy of you wearing something I make with my own hands.” I hold one end of the rolled up tape measure and let the rest fall to the floor. “So I need to measure you.”

“No…Tell me.” His eyes are wide and waiting. Maybe even a little fearful. “I feel like I’m on top of the world! I feel like I can move mountains. Like I can do anything! I feel like I can start creating my own designs again. Hell, I want to start a charity. I want to cure cancer. I want to fucking live!” “What were you doing before?” he asks. “Existing.” I exhale heavily and blink away the tears threatening behind my lids. “I’ll never forget this night.”

A laugh breaks its way from my chest. “You’re awfully hostile for someone who just had two orgasms. I’m the one with blue balls here.”

Freya’s green eyes are wide with excitement as she drops down on the chair beside me, plug still in hand. “Are you shagging Gareth Harris? Oh, God, please say yes because it would be the perfect sort of real-life fantasy my therapist says I need to engage in!”

“I don’t want you to dominate me, Sloan. I just want to surrender to you.”

I reach up and grab his face in my hands, taking in every one of his features. Suddenly, a strong, overpowering sense of ownership nearly chokes me. He is mine to use, to please, to care for. To give and take from. I want him this way. I want to embrace whatever this is we’re doing and dive in head first.

Feeling brave and curious, I ask, “Did you like the ice?” He nods and waggles his brows. “I’d like to use it on you.” I smile and shake my head. “That’s not what happened in the porno I watched.”

I lift my brows. “It would be a tough job, but I’m pretty strong. You can feel my muscles if you want.”

I’ve spent my entire life using my head to handle things and look where that’s gotten me. Perhaps now it’s time to say “fuck it” and use my heart for once. My heart is not submissive, though. It will not surrender. It will fight back.