Point of Surrender Page 13

  “Can I?”

  I shrugged. “You helped catch it. But first, go see if your mom has a camera. She’ll want a photo with your first catch.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his smile wider. Then he took off running toward the house while I stayed on the dock and removed the lure from the fish’s mouth.

  I dropped the poles on the dock and turned around just in time to see Brayden pulling Meg out of the house.

  Her hair was wet and flying behind her shoulders. With the sun shining on her light blond hair, a thick feeling grew in my chest.

  Angel. She looked like one with her wide and easy smile, already forgetting the way I’d hurt her.

  She was amazing.

  Sweet. Kind. Pure goodness, and I hadn’t lied. Sinking into her pussy had been the most beautiful moment of my life.

  And it was that moment I decided…no more fighting it. Fuck her rules…we were going to start playing by mine.

  I just hoped like hell we both survived.

  * * *

  Meg could cook. I didn’t know if it was because she was from the South—and I’d heard all Southern women knew how to cook up some decent grub, but damn…her fish fry beat anything else I’d ever eaten.

  Hands down.

  “This is so good,” I told her, shoveling another forkful into my mouth.

  She looked up, a slight grin on her lips, and continued shredding Brayden’s fish with her fork. The “Y” bones in Northern Pikes made cleaning them difficult, so I’d warned her before he dove in. She took me seriously because his fillet now looked like a pile of mush.

  But at least there weren’t any bones in it.

  “That’s the fifth time you’ve said that.” She hid her smile behind her water glass.

  “I know. Because it’s that good. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

  Something sad flashed in her eyes. “My mom was an incredible cook. Started making me help her as soon as I could stand at the counter.”

  Brayden’s head jerked up. “I help Mom, too.”

  “Bet you’re good at it,” I told Brayden and refocused my attention on Meg. “You see her much?” I asked, thinking of her mom.

  Meg shook her head and nodded toward Brayden. I got the hint to drop the question, but it didn’t lessen my sudden overwhelming curiosity to know everything I could about this woman.

  Besides admitting to her today that I hadn’t regretted this morning, something else had shifted between us during the afternoon.

  Perhaps it was when I crouched next to Brayden, helping him hold the northern while she snapped pictures. Maybe it was when the kid didn’t get on my nerves while I was cleaning the fish. Instead, he stood next to me, poking the gills and then holding up a dead fish when I was done.

  It could have been the moment when he started chasing Meg around the yard with the fish afterward. Her screams almost had me doubled over in laughter.

  The sound was foreign, even to me, and when I started, Meg had frozen solid in her run, snapped her head back to mine, and then let out a smile so wide I saw it in her eyes and felt it hit me in the chest.

  It broke something.

  Or put something back together.

  I still hadn’t figured it out.

  Somewhere between waking up with her ass pressed against my dick to eating food that was probably sent straight from heaven…I had actually admitted to myself that I liked this woman.

  She made me feel something I hadn’t ever felt before.

  She was a good piece in my life…and now that I had her, I didn’t plan on letting go of her.

  I had even stopped remembering Jesse every time I looked at Brayden. Once that happened, I was able to enjoy him, too.

  Truthfully, the little shit wasn’t half bad.

  “Dessert?” Meg asked, and I cleared my thoughts.

  Next to me, Brayden began pleading…shifting in his chair until it was hopping all over the place.

  Meg scolded him with a glare. “No rocking the chair.”

  “Thing could probably break,” I admitted. I’d already added ‘get some new damn chairs’ to the top of the ever-growing work list that needed to be done. If someone like Switch showed up, I envisioned him sitting in the chair and landing straight on his ass. The legs wobbled and groaned every time I shifted my weight.

  “What do you have for dessert?”

  A faint pink spread on Meg’s cheeks. “I made some oatmeal caramel bars while you were fishing, and a cherry pie.”

  Shit. Homemade pie and dinner?

  “Yes, please.”

  “You have to pick one, Finn,” Brayden said, his mouth twisted into a pout.

  I scoffed, and before I knew it I’d reached out and ruffled his hair. It was smooth, like silk. And not as scary as I thought it would be to touch the kid. “You might, but I don’t.”

  Brayden’s eyes flew open and his mouth dropped. “Mom…but you said only one dessert. Like…for forever you’ve said it.”

  Meg raised a hand and silenced him. I felt that mom-glare in my toes. Damn, she was good at that shit. After throwing me a mock glare of disapproval, she smiled at Brayden. “How about for tonight I let you have a special treat and you can have some of each?”

  “Yes!” Brayden pulled a fist-pump and then raised his hand in my direction for a high-five. “Score!” he shouted when I smacked his little palm.

  A slight jolt hit my hand and I dropped it to my thigh to rub the odd sensation out of it.

  Meg walked into the kitchen muttering something about boys, and shook her head.

  “Stick with me, kid,” I whispered to Brayden. “I’ll teach you tons.”

  And damn it if his little face didn’t light up like I’d just told him Santa was coming. “Really?”

  I choked, because I couldn’t make those types of promises. I should probably take it back. But Brayden looked at me with some awed expression and I found the truthful words I should have said stuck in my throat.

  Words like Well, yeah…for the week.

  Or something like Never mind, kid, I’ve got too much baggage for you to want to be around.

  Meg saved me from having to answer, and I licked my lips when I saw the massive piece of pie she’d scooped onto a plate, and then next to it sat a square bar that looked vaguely like oatmeal, but was oozing caramel and chocolate out of the center.

  I eyed the dessert warily and glanced at Meg.

  She shrugged, smiled smugly, and took her seat once all the plates had been slid onto the table. “Try it. Trust me.”

  I shot her a challenging look, one eyebrow arched. Her breath caught in her throat as I held her stare and brought the bar to my lips.

  That first taste? Hell…I’d consider giving up sex, for like a month, if I could eat them every day.

  “Damn,” I moaned, my mouth still full of food.

  Across from me, Meg smiled and brought a piece of cherry pie to her lips.

  “That’s a corker of an eat right there.”

  She choked on her pie, and I realized my mistake. I’d been able to drop most of my Australian slang over the years, but occasionally when I wasn’t thinking, they slipped out.

  “What?” she finally asked, her eyes lit with amusement.

  “Corker,” I said.

  Brayden tilted his head.

  “It means damn good.”

  “Language.” She reminded me.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Tell me more.” Brayden smiled around his own chocolate bar, and it spilled between the gap in his two front teeth.

  I thought about it over another bite of the oatmeal bar. Wasn’t that I couldn’t think of shit, just couldn’t think of anything where Meg wouldn’t bust my balls for the language.

  “Here’s one,” I said and thickened my accent intentionally. “How’s ’bout after we eat, I light up a telly bush for you?”

  Meg snorted and raised her eyebrows.

  Brayden’s face twisted in confusion.

  “Means a campfi
re,” I told him.

  “More!” he cheered, but I shook my head. Talking about Australia left me thinking of Australia…and I’d had too good of a day to want to go there.

  “Maybe another day, mate.” He giggled again with my accent. I could probably tell him anything with a natural accent and he’d only understand about half.

  I had struggled with that when I came to the States, and the only reason I didn’t get my ass kicked for sounding like a pussy was because I fought any man who considered it.

  I won. Like always.

  “And you,” Meg said, breaking in. I shot her a grateful look as if she had read my mind or instant shift in mood. “You, young man, need to go shower.”

  “But Mom!”

  “And then I’ll read to you. If there are books here.”

  “More UNO, too?”

  Meg huffed and ate the rest of her pie. “We’ll see. But first…shower.”

  “Fine.” He pouted and took his plate to the kitchen counter before he headed into the bathroom.

  “Thanks for that,” I told Meg when he was gone.

  Her smile disappeared and her eyes went soft. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it.”

  I nodded and watched her head toward the bedroom. Her ass swayed in the cut-off shorts she’d changed into at some point.

  She was so basic. Didn’t need a ton of makeup and was perfectly content in sweat shorts and her hair in a ponytail.

  Meg was simply unassumingly beautiful, and as I watched her disappear into the bathroom without another backward glance, even the kindness with which she’d just spoken to me left something shifting inside.

  Another broken piece being mended.

  15 Meg

  Finn hadn’t been lying when he said he’d fire up a telly bush, or whatever the heck he’d said at dinner. After I’d cleaned up the dishes, Finn took Brayden outside to collect kindling from around the yard.

  The fire wasn’t much due to the lack of real firewood, but as I watched Finn and my son outside, working together, something inside me cracked.

  Or healed.

  It had been so long since Brayden had had a man around constantly. While I knew whatever was going on with Finn was temporary¸ I could no longer be careful enough to protect myself from the pain that was sure to come when it ended.

  I had watched Finn throughout the day, somehow softening—not only around me, but with Brayden. And when he had laughed, that deep belly laugh that echoed through the trees and made the leaves shake? I’d wanted to run to Finn and throw my arms around him and squeeze him tight and hold on forever.

  I managed to restrain myself as I took off with Brayden chasing me with a gutted fish, but it hadn’t been easy.

  Then, as I watched them start a campfire, and Finn whittle down a stick to make a sharp point for Brayden’s first roasted marshmallow, I could barely contain my tears.

  It didn’t make sense. Ryker had been nearby for years, even if he wasn’t around all the time. And I had Pete. But those men were different. They were like brothers or cousins.

  Whatever was simmering between Finn and I was thicker…headier. It made my head swim and left me breathless. It made me want to dive under the covers and hide forever. Or strip off my clothes and take control.

  I had no idea which side of me would win as I tucked Brayden into bed that night.

  But as I walked back to the living room and my breath caught at the sight of Finn in the chair, legs splayed wide, bare feet on the floor, knees bent…and a devilish gleam in his honeyed eyes…I knew exactly what side Finn wanted to see.

  He nodded toward me. “Kid asleep?”

  “Yeah.” I headed toward him and smiled when he scooted down on the couch, leaving room for me to join him. Not that there was any other place left to sit besides an old wooden rocking chair. By the way it creaked when it was empty, neither of us had dared yet to sit in it. I looked at the cards in Finn’s hands.

  He shuffled them mindlessly but with the grace of a Vegas dealer. His eyes stayed pinned on me and I swore I saw a spark light in them when I bit my bottom lip.

  “We playing a game?”

  His gaze dropped to my chest and then slowly roamed lower before I felt his eyes on every inch of my skin. “We could.”

  The timbre of his voice was deeper and I rolled my shoulders, shaking off the feelings that were already starting to creep through my blood. Hot…needy…now feelings.

  I cleared my throat and ran my hands down my legs. Just his voice had the center of my thighs beginning to quiver. “What were you thinking?”

  I couldn’t look at him. My throat felt dry…parched. I definitely needed something to drink.

  Jumping off the couch, I took a step toward the kitchen. Mostly to hide. Maybe to get drunk.

  The atmosphere in the room whispered sex against my skin and I was suddenly terrified.

  Finn’s hand gripped my wrist and he tugged until I fell toward him. He moved me, twisting his body until I hit the back of the couch, my legs somehow turned and draped over his lap.

  “Hey!”

  “You’re nervous.” His eyes darted back and forth between mine.

  I shook my head. “Yes.”

  “How about we play that game?”

  That sounded daring, challenging.

  Something that was sure to get me in a world of trouble. Or pleasure.

  He took my silence as approval and ran a hand through my hair, pushing it behind my ear. Somehow he untangled it from my ponytail and draped it over my shoulders. I had no knowledge of anything as soon as his rough hand brushed my skin.

  My lips parted and I inhaled him. Manly, a bit of sweat from too much hard work, but just the perfect blend when he leaned in closer to me and arched a brow.

  “Don’t be nervous, Meg. I won’t hurt you.”

  His eyes flashed something—some sort of silent promise to himself, maybe shock he’d even said the words. He jerked back slightly and then shook it off, like he was acknowledging what he’d said and found it to be true.

  My heart raced.

  “What do you want?” I asked, my voice now breathless. I couldn’t hide my reaction from him. I didn’t want to hide it from him.

  “That’s a loaded question.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “How about you go get some alcohol, and I’ll deal the cards.”

  I frowned. Finn seemed way too pleased with himself…had made that way too easy. But I nodded and rose to my feet, calmer than before.

  When I returned with a beer for him and wine for me, I saw five cards face down on the table in front of Finn and another pile on the opposite side of the table. I slid him his beer and then grabbed a pillow from the couch before I knelt down.

  “So what are we playing?” I asked and took a sip of my wine.

  Finn grinned. The chilled white wine grew warm in my mouth from his devilish expression. “Strip poker.”

  I sprayed my wine all over the table. “What?” My eyes flew wide open and I covered my mouth with my hand. Then I died laughing as I saw spittle from my wine dripping down Finn’s nose, on his lap, and all over his jeans and the table. “I’m so sorry!”

  I scrambled off the floor to get a towel, and when I came back, Finn was laughing right along with me.

  “It’s all right, no problem.”

  “I know,” I told him and crouched next to his knees and started mopping up the spilled wine on the table and his jeans.

  Then I moved to his lap and started blotting. I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing, just trying to keep my flushed cheeks out of his line of view. I was such an idiot.

  The very mention of a game shouldn’t have had me acting like a teenager on a first date all over again, but I was still adjusting to this new nice and fun version of Finn.

  “Meg,” he said, his voice a little rougher.

  I looked up, scrunched my eyebrows together just as his hand fell over mine.

  “You’re moving into dangerous territory.”


  “What?” I looked down. “Oh, God.”

  My hand was on his crotch. I hadn’t noticed before, but the bulge in his denim was visible now.

  I closed my eyes and pulled my hand away. Finn grabbed it and placed it back on him.

  My fingers curled around him.

  Oh my God. What was I doing? Or thinking?

  “Finn?” I asked and looked up at him. And holy shit he was sexy. His half-lidded eyes looked down on me and my hand squeezed him again. His groan, the slight shift of his hips…the soft but thick sound that fell from his parted lips.

  I pressed my thighs together to relieve the sudden ache.

  Then his hand moved over mine and I locked my eyes on what he was doing. His ink was incredible—scales up his arm that looked like an alligator and when he shifted, the scales looked real, making his arm seem like it was really an alligator that had just completely caught me. He pushed his hand down again, shifting my own beneath his, and I rubbed his erection through his jeans.

  Another groan hit my ears.

  I swallowed a lump in my throat, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off what he was doing…what he was having me do to him…and what I suddenly, very much, wanted to do to him all on my own.

  I shifted on my knees, pushing the coffee table away from us with one hand. Then I pulled my hand out from underneath his until I could scoot in between his spread knees.

  “Meg.” I looked up and saw Finn lick his lips. Lust filled his eyes and it empowered me. I wanted him in my mouth and on my tongue.

  My hands went to his thighs and I scraped up the denim with my fingers. “Lift your hips.”

  He looked like he was going to argue but when my fingers began undoing his belt, all of his silent fighting disappeared, and he brushed my hands off to help me.

  The click of his belt, the pop of his button, echoed in the room.

  “You sure?” he asked, and I smiled. Finn seemed like a man who would simply take what he wanted. Him caring…asking…something warm squeezed my chest, wrapped its tendrils around my heart, and spread down to my toes.

  I licked my lips, staring at his hands on the waistband of his jeans.