Giving In (Surrender Trilogy #2)(17)

Somehow, some way, he had to break past those barriers. Bust them down for good and insert himself in her heart and soul. He’d already decided that she was well worth the fight, and he knew it would be a fight indeed.

But he wouldn’t give up. Kylie was stubborn. Proud. Defiant. But he was every bit as stubborn and determined as she was. For the first time in her life, she’d met her match in him. Because he sure as hell wasn’t giving up. This was one battle he would win, no matter the cost.

SIX

KYLIE awoke to a completely alien sensation. She laid there, trying to process just what was different. She felt . . . rested. No lingering darkness from nightmares. She felt . . . safe.

It was then she registered the fact that she was not alone in her bed. Not only was she not alone, but a very male, very hard body was wrapped protectively around her and her head was pillowed on a muscled shoulder.

Jensen.

Oh God.

Memories from the night before—humiliating memories—crashed through her mind like a landslide. She’d made an utter ass of herself. Completely fallen apart on him. For God’s sake, she’d handcuffed him to her bed.

“Remember your promise, Kylie.”

His soft voice rumbled from his chest, bringing with it another reminder of the hastily given promise not to regret. Not to be ashamed or embarrassed. Not to freak out. She didn’t have a prayer of keeping the promise because everything about this situation completely freaked her out.

“What time is it?” she croaked out. A perfectly neutral question, one that would remind them both that they had important matters this morning that had nothing to do with the fact they were in bed. Together.

“It’s only six,” he said in that infuriatingly calm voice of his. He sounded completely unruffled by the fact they were wrapped up like two lovebugs.

“You want coffee?” she asked even as she pushed herself up and away, putting distance between them.

He smiled, almost as if he knew her utter panic. “Coffee would be nice. I’ll have a cup and then head over to my place to shower and change. Then I’ll run back by and pick you up.”

“There’s no need,” she said hastily. “I can just meet you there.”

“You forget you’re without a vehicle,” he pointed out. “Besides, I thought we’d have lunch after and discuss the results of the meeting. Then I’ll run you by the restaurant to get your car.”

He made it sound like business, all business, but she knew differently. There was a tone to his voice that had been absent until now. Somehow more intimate and . . . tender. He looked at her so tenderly it made her heart ache. And made her even more desperate to increase the distance between them.

She slid to the edge of the bed and got up, going to her closet to get her robe. Her pajamas more than adequately covered her but she still felt vulnerable and she wanted—needed—that extra barrier of clothing.

“I’ll have the coffee ready in a few minutes,” she muttered. “Take your time. Feel free to make use of the bathroom.”

She turned before she could see his expression, that knowing smile. Her world felt tilted on its axis. She had no idea what to make of this abrupt shift in their relationship. What relationship? He was her boss. Well, one of them. She was his employee. Certainly not his bed partner even if he’d spent the night, part of the night, handcuffed to her bed.

Heat rushed like fire through her cheeks. God, how humiliating. What kind of freak did it make her that she’d handcuffed a man to her bed? How weak did it make her that she’d actually needed it to feel safe? And weaker still, because in the throes of a nightmare, she’d wrenched his arm free so he could hold her.

Jensen Tucker had held her, had wrapped himself completely around her the entire night, and God help her, she’d loved every minute of it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so peacefully. That she’d felt absolutely safe. After that first nightmare, when he’d pulled her into his arms, she’d fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, completely unbothered by the demons that taunted her on a regular basis. Who needed therapy? Apparently all she needed was Jensen Tucker’s strong embrace. Not that she’d ever admit that to him. It would only give him that much more power over her, and she’d vowed never to give anyone that kind of power over her. Never again.

She busied herself making the coffee, her thoughts chaotic and unbalanced. He made her that way. What the hell did he want from her? He’d all but staked his claim. Some of the things he’d said she was still grappling with. Had no idea of their meaning. Or perhaps she knew only too well and was too chickenshit to deal with them with her big girl pants on.

But why did he seem to want her? Why would he even care? She was one hot mess. A head case. And worse, he knew it. Calmly accepted it like it was the most normal thing in the world. He’d inserted himself as her . . . protector? He certainly seemed to accept the role. Even embraced it. He’d made no bones about the fact that they were, what had he said? Inevitable?

He was as crazy as she was apparently. Two hot-mess head cases? Surely a recipe for disaster. He was strong. She was weak. Not the ingredients for a successful relationship for sure. And he was a control freak. She knew that much about him. His world was meticulously well-ordered. No chaos. No messes. He was every bit as dominant as Tate and Dash were, no matter that he said he was nothing like them. He hadn’t seemed to like the comparison, but then she could understand why. He was definitely a law unto himself. There were certainly no two Jensen Tuckers. God help her. One was enough. More than enough.