Free Surrender by Heather Peters Page A

wrapped the thick strands around his wrist. "Open wide, darling, let me take you."
    Again, she obeyed.
    He pumped his hips, flesh slapping against flesh. He loved watching her writhe in his arms and fall apart, piece by sexy piece, as she cried out, her entire body shaking with release. A moment later, he joined her.
    He moved to his side, not to hurt her with his weight, and gathered her in his arms. "Rest now, love."
    "Mmm, tired," she said, then snuggled in his arms. Within seconds, her even breathing told him she'd fallen asleep.
    He brushed stray strands of her hair from her face and gently kissed her cheek, wishing the night would never end. "This is what we were born for, ma Belle," he whispered, raining light kisses on her nose and chin. "When are you going to realize we belong together?"
    She was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed. And maybe he'd gone about this seduction idea of his all wrong, but she was here now, in his bed, in his heart.
    "Please don’t leave me, Belle." He brought her warmth closer to his and choked out a breath. "If you do, I shall die."
    Content to have her near, a warm wave of peace settled over him. In the distance, Fourth of July fireworks continued to light the night sky with soft pops. Lyon closed his eyes, pulled Belle to his heart, and followed her into a deep and dreamless sleep. He'd fallen in love with his Beauty all over again.

    * * * * *

    She awoke in his arms, naked, warm . . . alive.
    With a long exhale and a wiggle of her hips, she relished his erection pressed against her rear. She would tell him she wanted to stay. If he forgave her, they could be together.
    She found herself on her back before she could speak.
    "Good morning."
    "Hmm." He nuzzled her neck.
    "Lyon, we have to talk, please."
    "Later. I need you now, Isabella."
    His eyes spoke volumes as she looked into his heavenly gaze. "Yes, I know." His cock nudged at her thighs, and she opened wide, welcoming him into her body. He slid into her and slowly rocked back and forth, in and out, in a lazy fashion, warm and so tender. Tears welled but she sniffed them back. Both silent as dawn broke over the horizon, they lay face to face, gazes locked, their bodies so close they were truly one. Isabella, once again, gave up all, as she and Lyon flew to heaven and back.

    * * * * *

    His silk shirt caressed her skin, her nipples stiff as the material rubbed against her flesh, his scent surrounding her. She sat at the table, sipping steaming black coffee. Ah, nectar of the gods, she thought, watching him sit across her from her, wearing only jeans, zipped halfway.
    His troubled frown told her more than she wanted to know.
    "Lyon."
    "Belle."
    As they spoke each other's name, together, they smiled.
    "I hope you can forgive me for taking advantage of you this weekend. But I have no regrets, Belle." He looked at her then, his eyes holding her gaze with a fierce hunger and warm possession.
    "No." Isabella shook her head. "No regrets." Tell him, you fool, tell him you want to stay as his lover, not a paid sex partner. No, that would do no good. He'd only think she'd want to stay out of a sense of false loyalty. She'd go and forever be grateful for the short time they had shared. He had brought her back to life, to face her fears, and to accept pleasure. But he didn't love her.
    "Did you want to tell me something?"
    She shook her head and rose from the table. "No, it's not important." For a second, she thought a cloud of sadness filled his eyes, but his expression changed so quickly, she wasn't sure if she imagined it or not.

    * * * * *

    The sky threatened rain, as the day grew unusually cool.
    In the glass-enclosed porch, Lyon held her in his arms, as they lay on a cushioned chaise lounge.
    "Lyon?"
    "Yes?"
    "I have some things I need to say."
    He swallowed hard from the sudden dryness in his throat. It's over, he thought. In the end, she was going to leave him before the agreement was over. He was wrong about her. She didn't love