Surrender A Section 8 Novel

Chapter Twenty-three





Grace woke to Dare thrashing around in the bed.

He was so vulnerable, but he was still a warrior as he fought, completely caught up in the throes of his nightmare. She desperately wanted to help him. To heal him.

A part of her wanted to hate him for what he was doing to her, but she simply couldn’t. He wasn’t black or white, had so many gray spaces in him; she’d known that before she laid her hands on him.

She hadn’t been born with a healing touch, but her gift allowed her to be open enough to learn Reiki. She used it now in an attempt to pull away the bad thoughts plaguing him.

But the bad was very, very strong. She closed her eyes and put her palms against his bare skin, breaking her rule of not touching anything that could harm her emotionally.

Mistake. In seconds, he was awake and uncoiled and on top of her, his body pinning hers to the mattress, his hands holding her wrists trapped over her head, and if she lived to be one hundred she’d never figure out how exactly he’d managed that in such a short span of time.

She’d been holding her breath, exhaled now in a soft, surprised gasp, realizing she was lucky that his hand hadn’t ended up around her throat.

Surprising a man of his caliber was a very bad idea.

It took several moments before he actually focused on her, and when that realization hit, he still didn’t roll off her—not immediately. And that attraction that had been there from the first jolted through her. His arousal was rock hard against her belly and her sex was wet for him.

If he’d rolled away first, she wasn’t sure what she would’ve done, but he made the decision for both of them when he lowered his mouth to hers.

It was a hard, desperate kiss that left her wanting more immediately. It was as if they were in a fog, suspended between wake and sleep, confusion and clarity, where anything could happen. When they were at their most vulnerable.

She arched her back, pressed her hips up into him, and he responded in kind, grinding his pelvis into hers in a way that suggested nothing less than down-and-dirty sex that would leave them both breathless.

“Grace,” he murmured as he kissed his way down her neck. Was he still dreaming? Did it matter?

How had she ended up a part of his dreams?

His hand released her wrists, and he thrust against her, his cock hard against her sex. She groaned and bucked up against him, and the sound seemed to rouse him.

He stopped, stared down at her. Looked confused, and then, “Ah, f*ck. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No. I should’ve known better than to touch you like that.”

“Because you have nightmares too. Guess we’re both all f*cked-up,” he muttered.

“Guess so.” She smoothed the hair away from his forehead. “Do your dreams have to do with the scars on your hands?”

“Yeah.” He glanced down at his hands, which were on either side of her. “I don’t even remember it hurting when it happened.”

“When you’re in it, when it’s actually happening, pain is the least of your worries.”

He nodded his agreement. “Key saved my life. For a long time, I wished he’d left me to die, for both our sakes.” He faltered for a long second, and then he told her what had happened. She was sure that for her sake he brushed over how horrific it actually was, but she knew. His eyes looked haunted.

She was also furious at Rip. At herself, for not finding a way to take him down, even if it meant hurting herself in the process. “I’m sorry, Dare.”

“I’m still here. I’m not built to break.”

She felt the flicker of a smile ghost across her face. “I think I’m not either.”

“I know you’re not.”


* * *

Dare knew that lighting the fire at Grace’s would come back to bite him in the ass during sleep, bring back memories of the jungle and a very different fire. He’d thought that just this once he might sleep a little longer, especially with Grace snuggled against him, but from the worried look on her face, he knew his nightmare had been full-fledged.

Part of him wanted to push her away, retreat. But he needed her. She was half on him, running her fingers through his hair, smoothing the sweat from his face and neck with a washcloth, like he’d done for her earlier.

His cock was as rigid as his posture. She ran a hand down his belly and wrapped a palm around the thick column, and he stilled his breathing.

“I haven’t been touched in a long time,” he said quietly.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. Too f*cking much, Grace. I don’t want to goddamned care.”

You can have this job, or you can have relationships, Dare’s father had once told him. To be successful at either, choose one and never look back.

Still, Dare knew that leaving his mother had cost his father dearly. There was always a price with these jobs, and most of the time, it left a deep scar right down the middle of your life like a road map to hell.

Dare was headed down that same damned path, and it was already littered with mistakes and regrets.

“Will you tell me what happened?” she asked now.

“I lost everyone on my team. Those guys served as my family for ten-plus years.” The grief in his eyes was as unmistakable as his expression was unreadable. “One minute we were in charge of the situation, and the next, everything exploded. Literally. They never found the bodies.”

He choked those last words out. His lungs had tightened like he was breathing the thick smoke that got caught in the jungle air, unable to escape. Just like him.

Grace’s hands were cool on his shoulders. They rubbed, kneaded the tension, worked his neck muscles; then she was kissing where her hands had touched.

Both had a background of pain—that alone was enough to bond them—but there was more there, and Dare would be a fool not to admit it. And he was no fool.