Surrender: Not Until You, Part 6

Foster left my side for a moment as he spoke in low tones with Kade. I inclined my head toward the sound but couldn’t make out most of the damn words. But the few I did hear made my spine go stiff. Was he inviting Kade to be part of my punishment? Oh, hells no.

“Foster,” I said in a harsh whisper as my body started to quake with nerves again. He didn’t answer. I felt like a child urgently trying to get her parent’s attention, looking for a pant leg to tug on. “Sir.”

“Hush,” he said, a bite to the simple word.

“I can definitely help you out with that,” Kade said, a smile in his tone.

Oh, screw this. I stepped back, bumping into a wall, and yanked the tie off my eyes, frustration and fear surging in me like a battle cry.

Foster’s frown was unmistakable in the soft light of the hallway. “Cela.”

“No,” I said, words spilling out of me without going through any kind of filter. I threw the tie onto the ground. “I lied, okay? So I didn’t tell my family yet. Big deal. It wasn’t a freaking capital crime. That doesn’t mean you should get to punish me and invite your friends along for the ride.”

“Invite my—” Thunderclouds crossed Foster’s expression, an ominous spring storm blotting out the sunshine, and he stepped forward. Automatically, I pressed my back fully against the wall, half hoping it would just absorb me into it. To my dismay, the drywall didn’t cooperate. Foster moved into my space—not touching me, not trapping me, but freezing me in place nonetheless with the hard look in his eyes. His voice was like a winter-chilled gust when he spoke again. “Not a big deal? Were you or were you not the one who wanted to stay so this could become a relationship—not just kinky fun?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I said, my words sharp but my voice quavering and my fingers pressing into the wall for support.

“You lied to me. People in relationships are supposed to be honest, to talk about what they’re going through.”

“And it pissed you off,” I said in a huff. “I get it. I’m sorry. I said I was sorry.”

He scoffed. “Pissed? You think this is about me being pissed?” He bent his head toward me, his gaze boring into mine. “I’m hurt, Cela. If you’re just using me to get some wild oats out your system, then fucking tell me that. At least I know where I stand. But don’t make me care about you, and then not even trust me enough to talk to me. How would you feel if I said your punishment was that I get to tell one free lie to you when the time suits me? Would that seem like a big deal?”

I glanced away. That would, of course, be awful—wondering anytime he said something if this was the time he was going to choose to lie. Gah. I didn’t want him to make sense. My righteous indignation felt so much better than thinking I’d actually hurt him.

“You know what it makes me feel like when you lie to me?” he asked, his voice soft now.

I pressed my lips together and shook my head, feeling a little more miserable with each passing second.

“Like your fuck buddy, Cela. Like some guy.”

I winced at his pained tone.

So it was true. I’d hurt him.

The thought ran through my head like a storm warning on repeat. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Foster wasn’t just angry that I’d lied to him; the lie and my lack of trust had honestly affected him. And that did something to me I couldn’t even explain. Hurt meant that this was important to him. Hurt meant that his feelings were involved. Hurt meant that earlier tonight he hadn’t jumped my case about the peephole because he was some overbearing asshole—he did it because he was genuinely concerned about me.

Hurt meant everything.

And even though I hadn’t realized I’d needed confirmation of that, something ragged inside me smoothed. My heart wasn’t the only one on the line here. We were both stripped-down and vulnerable.

And he was right. How could I demand all those answers from him over dinner only to lie to him when he’d asked about my family? I hadn’t wanted to look like a coward or explain why it was so hard. But he was right. If we were going to be together, I needed to stop only showing him the parts of me I wanted him to see.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, and in that moment, I realized how damn pathetic those words sounded. What did they mean anyway? Those words were supposed to make everything better? Show true remorse?

Now I understood.

Without saying another thing, I took a deep breath and slowly lowered myself to my knees. Once there, I picked up Foster’s tie, and lifted it to him, staying on the floor at his feet. He stared down at me, blue eyes going tender, and took the strip of silk from my hands. “Thank you. Stand up, angel.”

He took my hand in his, helping me to my feet, then lifted my hand to his mouth to brush a kiss over my knuckles. His gaze stayed on mine, conveying so much through just one look. Appreciation. Heat. And relief. He’d been afraid I was going to walk out. Finally, he turned his head and sent a curt nod toward Kade, who’d stayed in the shadows while we’d been arguing. Foster tied the blindfold over my eyes again and then placed my hand in the crook of his elbow to guide us further down the hall.

I had no idea where we were going or what awaited. But though nerves still bubbled in my belly, the rest of me had morphed into resolve. Foster cared about me. And I trusted him. If he was going to have Kade be a part of things, then I needed to have faith that he would only take it as far as he thought I could handle. And if either of them tried something I didn’t like, I had my safe word. I knew down in my gut that Foster would honor that no matter what, so that gave me the courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Even when I felt damp night air hit my face.

“Take off your shoes, angel,” Foster said, his breath gusting over my neck. “I don’t want you to stumble.”

“Okay.” Keeping my hand on him to steady myself, I slipped out of my heels. My bare feet hit a smooth, uneven surface—like the cobblestone that paved the sidewalk into the restaurant. Surely he couldn’t have me standing barefoot and blindfolded in front of the building, right? There was a parking lot out there and windows along the front of the restaurant where anyone would be able to see me. I wet my lips, worry like a heavy coat I couldn’t shrug off.

“Easy,” he said, lifting my hair off my shoulder and pressing a kiss to the column of my neck, sending shivers down to my painted toenails. “Just try to breathe and focus on my voice and touch. That’s all you need to worry about. Not Kade or what’s around you. Just me and what you’re feeling.”

“Yes, sir.” I nodded, warmth from the simple feel of his lips again my skin gathering low. “Is Kade still here?”

“No, he’s getting a few things for me. But see, you’re still worrying. Focus, angel.”

I sighed and closed my eyes behind the blindfold, trying to center myself and pay attention only to Foster—his gentle touches and kisses, his scent mixing with the faint scent of something earthy in the air, and the warmth of his body next to mine. Soon, I could sense my muscles starting to unwind a bit and my mind easing.

A few minute later, footsteps sounded to my right, and I knew we were alone no longer. Foster shifted and left my side. There was a rustling sound and low-spoken words. I kept breathing. Mostly. I’d learned in the class that submitting could almost be a meditative state, like reaching some other plane, and I wanted to get there. Foster had brought me there before—the place where nothing mattered but the two of us and what we were doing, where time seemed to slow and inhibitions fell away. That was a happy, happy place.

When fingers touched my elbow again, I jumped. “It’s okay, angel. I’m going to lead you a few more steps. I promise I won’t let you fall or hurt yourself.”

I let Foster guide me, the smooth stones cool beneath my feet, then he was turning me. On the next step, my feet pressed into something soft. I bit my lip, my mind trying to scan through where I could possibly be. Out front there was only stone and then a paved parking lot. But I didn’t dare ask the question.

“Cela,” Foster said from somewhere behind me. “I’m going to take off your dress.”

Panic lodged in my throat, swelling. “Foster.”

But his fingers were already on my zipper. “Shh, just listen to me. You are beautiful, and it pleases me to see you bared for me like this. You have nothing to fear or be ashamed of.”

My fists curled but I forced myself to breathe through the panic. Trust. Trust. Trust. God, I’d never thought it would be this hard to put that faith in him. But my mind had me standing in front of a well-known restaurant. I’d only been semi-naked in front of four guys in my life, counting Foster and Pike. And now here I was, with God knows who looking on, being stripped down to my barely there bra and panties. My heart was making a valiant attempt to break through the prison of my rib cage and leave me behind.

Foster brought my dress down my hips, then helped me stepped out of it. The night air, though warm, instantly raised goose bumps in my skin. “Foster, I’m kind of freaking out.”

His palms glided over my upper arms and his body pressed against my back. Already I could feel the stirring of his own arousal. “Take a breath, angel. Do it with me. In. Out.”

I forced myself to follow his instructions, bringing oxygen into my lungs.

“I’ve got you, okay?” he said, his voice quiet and reassuring. “Now lift your arms for me.”

Though I was still on the verge of panic, I lifted them. Hands took my wrists. Hands. Oh, shit. Kade was still here. And from what I could tell, he was helping Foster wrap something around my wrists—rope if I had to guess by the slightly abrasive feel of it. The heat of a full-body blush started in my cheeks and rolled downward like a crimson tide. They stretched my arms out above me at an angle and secured them on opposite sides. Before I could even process that, the same material was being wrapped around my ankles.

Foster ran a palm along my calf. I assumed it was him. I couldn’t imagine Kade taking such liberties, but I couldn’t be sure. “Spread your legs a little wider, angel.”

It was Foster. A little sag of relief went through me, and I adjusted my stance. They secured my ankles, leaving me completely at their mercy by the end of it. I flexed my fingers, trying to maintain some sense of calm, but was failing miserably. I probably could’ve provided electricity to half the homes in the Metroplex with the amount of nervous energy racing through my veins.

“Comfortable, Cela?”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I hang out like this all the time.” The quip was past my lips before I remembered my role here. I locked my mouth shut, prepared for a hand to land on my ass at any second, but instead I was met with chuckles from them both.

“I meant,” Foster said patiently, “does anything feel too tight or uncomfortable?”