Free PrideandSurrender by Julia Devlin Page A

was happy to
see it, I didn’t want to be the only one. He slowly sat up, grabbed a pillow
and rested it against the iron headboard before propping himself against it. “I
know you better than you want to admit, and that’s why I scare you.”
    Rationally, I saw the fault in my logic. Seconds before, I’d
been asking myself how he knew me so well, but when fear takes over, logic
doesn’t really matter. “You want me to be who you’ve built in your mind, but
that’s not me.”
    “Wrong, Juliet.” He sat forward, closing the distance
between us. “I see you clearly. I’m the first person to see past all your
bullshit. You like to pretend that you’re cool and in control, but that’s your
façade. All your neat order, the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”
    “That’s what you want.” I raised my voice, welcoming
the anger as the only form of protection I had. “You want me to be this ball of
fire under the layer of ice, but all that’s there is another layer of cold.”
    To my shock, he laughed, shaking his head as if he couldn’t
fathom how ridiculous I was. I dug my nails into my palms and resisted the urge
to chuck a pillow at his head. Finally, I asked, “What the hell is so funny?”
    “You.” He looked at me, and despite his amusement, his green
eyes gleamed with some hidden knowledge that instantly put me on high alert.
“My darling girl, you are the furthest thing from cold. You surround yourself
with all this neat control for one reason only, to protect yourself from all
the fierce emotion you do feel. Underneath the ice, you’re raw, emotional and
scared to death. Hell, you’re not a fireball, you’re an explosion waiting to
detonate.”
    I scrambled off the bed, the tears already forming in my
eyes. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t stay here, I needed distance.
    “Don’t think you’ll run away from me.” A warning.
    I ignored him, walking as fast as I could without running to
the door, desperate to escape. I needed time to collect my thoughts. Get myself
back together.
    I felt him at my back before I heard him move, his heat
burning my skin. He grabbed my waist and pulled me tight against him, slamming
the door of my bedroom shut, closing off my escape route.
    “I warned you, Juliet. Told you how it would be,” he said,
his voice angry now. “I will not let you run from me. And the truth is you
don’t want me to let you.”
    I swallowed hard, my nails digging into his forearm. “I need
space.”
    He nipped my neck. Goose bumps popped over my arms as his
teeth scraped my skin. “If I let you go right now, you’d hate it. Nothing would
disappoint you more than if I gave you space.”
    My whole being went still. God, he was right.
    As much as I wanted to get away, as much as the fear swirled
inside me, if he let me go right now, I’d be crushed. Twin tears slid down my
cheeks and I brushed them away.
    “I have a theory,” he said against my hair. “If you give in,
let yourself go, embrace the storm like you did that day from your photo, each
time you do, it will scare you less. Maybe it’s so hard for you, not because
you feel so deeply but because you fight it.”
    I went limp in his arms, suddenly too tired to fight. Not
even pretending to want to anymore. He wouldn’t let me go. And I didn’t want
him to.
    “Come back to bed, my lovely Juliet.”
    “I hate you,” I said with no real heat. The opposite word to
the one hovering around the edges of my mind. I rested my head on his shoulder.
    “I know you do.” I felt him smile again, and I relaxed.
    He understood.

Chapter Eight
     
    Christos laid me on the bed, my head resting on the fluffy
down pillow. “No more talking, Juliet,” he whispered over my rapidly heating
skin. “Just let me love you.”
    I tensed at the word before I could stop it. Although I knew
he felt it under his hands, he didn’t pause or stumble or stop. Instead, he
brushed back the edges of my torn blouse and swept it from my