Reluctant Surrender
Reluctant Surrender
A tightly wound woman with a secret persona meets a prominent Dom who’s itching to make her unravel.
Renowned Dom Ethan White offers straitlaced Colin Reneaux an escape from her conventional life. Reluctant at first, she eventually agrees to explore her secret desires with BDSM tapas—small bites of erotic D/s scenarios featuring Ethan as her captor, boss, interrogator, professor and Master. Each eye-opening and sex-fueled scene leaves her more breathless than the last.
Ethan’s surprised to find himself challenged by Colin’s strength. He quickly connects with her inner submissive, drawing them deeper into the D/s dynamic. Soon she becomes the woman he swore he’d never need, and he, the Master she craves. Together they find the perfect balance…until someone from Ethan’s past returns, someone bent on revenge. Ethan’s left with no choice. He must break Colin’s heart to save her from the vengeance that threatens her dream.
But Colin has other ideas. Like whose heart should break and who should ultimately surrender…
Reluctant Surrender
Riley Murphy
Dedication
To my awesome editor, Grace Bradley, and my equally awesome CP, Christine Bell. They are the two women in my life who are generous enough to say, “Hell no” when I need to hear it. And with some books? I need to hear it a lot.
Just sayin’…
Acknowledgements
To Honey, Kyle, Brooke and Mom.
Thanks for all your support.
I love you guys!
And to my dad… I miss you, but I’ll see you after.
Chapter One
Ethan watched, bemused, as Colin Reneaux took a running start and slammed her shoulder into the door. Her heavily shellacked bun hardly budged, and the door? Not at all. But she bounced off like a pinball, landing right in his arms. “Done yet?” he asked dryly.
She stiffened and pushed away from him with a snort. “I don’t know, are we out yet?”
“The door is insulated.”
She had her back to him and he couldn’t help taking stock of her. Critically, he eyed her from the tight bun, crisply starched blouse, overly modest skirt, down to her ungainly clodhoppers and wondered what had prompted her to agree to do this job. From what he’d heard, it wasn’t as if she needed the money. She’d built a unique and reputable business as an events photographer, handling some of New England’s most prominent citizens, which was why her presence here didn’t add up.
She went at the door again, this time with the heel of her palm. “Ohhh, come on, people! Someone? Anyone?” She threw a toe-kick in for good measure. “Oww.”
He watched her hop up and down and sighed. “The whole room is soundproof. No one’s going to hear you so we’ll just have to wait until Decklan makes his rounds.” He leaned back against the desk and folded his arms. “Ms. Reneaux?”
“Yes?” She dropped her foot, listed to one side and turned to face him. “I think I broke my toe.”
He highly doubted that. The industrial loafers she had on looked as if they could withstand a nuclear blast. “Maybe you should do as I suggested and take a seat. Screaming and banging isn’t going to get us out of here any faster. Wouldn’t you rather be comfortable while you wait?” He nodded toward the wing chair.
“Oh, all right.”
She hobbled past and despite his resolve not to get any more involved with her than necessary he demanded, “You really hurt yourself, didn’t you?”
Sinking into the chair, she scowled up at him. “What tipped you off? The blood?”
“Blood?” He pushed off the desk so fast it shifted. “You can feel it? You’re bleeding?”
“No.”
He was halfway bent over, ready to examine her when he halted. “No?”
She gave him a dismissive hand wave. “I’m only playing with you. It does hurt though.”
He let that pronouncement sink in and was slow to straighten, caught off-guard by the beauty of her eyes. Now that she’d taken off her glasses he noticed how the corners tilted up catlike and the clear blue color held tiny flecks of silver. Nice.
“Playing, huh?” He stood. “You may not want to use that term around here, Ms. Reneaux. If you do, you might get more than you bargained for.”
“Yeah, good point.”
Interesting. She knew the lingo. That wasn’t surprising. A smart woman like her would have taken the time to research before she committed to the job. Now, the idea that she checked out certain aspects of the lifestyle and her doing so was a total turn-on to him? That was surprising as hell.
“Why the fuss? I told you it will be less than thirty minutes,” he checked his watch, “twenty now and Decklan will unlock the door.”
“You pulled me away so fast that I left the camera rolling.” She chewed on a fingernail and looked around. “I could have signed the nondisclosure form at any time. Now we’re stuck here and I’m going to miss the beginning of the ceremony.”
Ethan sat back against the desk and frowned. “Stop biting your nails.” She continued scanning the room, but unconsciously obeyed. Intriguing. “I didn’t realize the door was in lock mode.” That much was true. He’d chosen the dungeon because it was available and had been done up for today’s events. “Don’t worry, as I’ve said, it’s only a matter of time and we’ll be out of here.”
She smoothed a hand down her perfectly unwrinkled blouse and asked, “Hey, what’s behind the satin?”
He’d been waiting for that question. Examining the gaudy fabric that surrounded them, he was unsure how to answer. It had been the designer’s idea to cover the backdrop of metal devices and stone walls with floor-to-ceiling pink and black satin panels. She’d had the ornate desk and crimson-colored chairs brought in to make the space look official. Personally, the effect reminded him of one of those tacky oil paintings done on velvet, but the bride and groom loved it. And since this was where they were going to have the collaring ceremony after the more traditional one was completed, who was he to judge?
“You don’t want to know.”
She blushed, her mouth forming a wordless O as she looked away. “I just hope my assistant notices that I’m gone.”
“Your assistant?” Now he smiled. She had to be kidding. “I thought that guy was your grandfather.”
Snapping her head around, she glared. “Casper is very knowledgeable about photography, I’ll have you know.”
His smile deepened. “I’m not surprised. The guy looks old enough to have been in on the ground floor when the process was invented.”
She didn’t say anything to that, but her face remained fused with color. He enjoyed the effect as it set off her high cheekbones. He’d bet with her hair down she’d be a knockout.
“Do you always wear your hair like that?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It looks uncomfortable.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, flopped back in the chair and said, “It’s comfortable all right. The only uncomfortable thing around here at the moment is me.”
“I assure you, we’ll be set free shortly.”
“I wasn’t referring to being held prisoner.”
He arched a brow and she arched one right back at him. It gave him a charge and he almost chuckled until she opened her mouth.
“It’s your audacity that bothers me. I don’t appreciate you making personal comments about my appearance. May I remind you that I’m an independent contractor working for your establishment and you’re overstepping certain boundaries?”
Oh, there were certain boundaries he wanted to test. With her. On her. Now, the idea of her as his prisoner? Well, he couldn’t say he hated it. Yet, for the life of him, searching her pert little face and primly covered-up body, he had no idea why. Could have been the mixed signals she’d been giving him. A dangerous thing to do with a guy who liked to improve a woman’s path in life.
Giving her the once-over, he came to the conclusion that it had to be the challenge she presented. She’d done nothing but try to get away from him since they’d been locked in together. His gaze lingered for a moment on her tightly buttoned-up blouse and it occurred to him that her ultraconservative clothes were reminiscent of battle armor. No wonder Ted and David were making bets and promises to vanquish her the first chance they got.
“Why did you take this job, Ms. Reneaux?”
He’d anticipated three possible answers. The most likely being it was none of his damn business. Coming in a close second was she’d based her acceptance on free PR. Handling the preopening was sure to give her additional exposure despite the kinky clientele or maybe because of them. Following up in the rear was the prospect that her curiosity had gotten the best of her. His musings were cut short when she blurted her one-word answer.
“Money.”
He raised his brows. “Well, that’s plain enough.”
“Yep, that’s me. Plain enough.”
Before he knew what to do with that statement she bent down and grabbed hold of her shoe. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t mind do you?” She didn’t wait for his reply as she slipped one off and looked up. “Casper brought me the wrong pair. These are killing me, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him.”
Ethan wordlessly shook his head because when she slipped the clunky loafer off, he was treated to the sight of an elegant foot. Small, dainty and anything but plain.
“Ah.” She rubbed one stocking-covered limb over the other and sighed. “That’s better. So where’s the form thingamajiggy? I may as well sign it if your guy is going to spring us.”
“Spring us?” There was no getting a handle on her. She’d gone from bratty to cute in less than a minute.
“Yeah.” She straightened and stretched her back. “I suppose I shouldn’t wonder why you have a man checking these rooms every half hour, right?”
He studied her nose-crinkled expression, added adorable to the list and asked, “Do you really want to know? If you do I’ll tell you.”
“No.”
Her disappointed grumble made him laugh. “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?” She stood and carefully tested her weight on her sore toe before looking at him.
He held her gaze for a moment and then pointedly eyed her foot. “Impulsive.”
“Umm…” Tilting her head, she stared up at the ceiling as if considering. After a five-count she let out a breath. “Nope. The fact that I just took a moment to reflect proves it.”
Did she just wink at him? She did because now she was giving him a saucy grin as she met his stare. What a turn-on. He couldn’t remember a time when a woman had been so unimpressed with him. What a contrary bastard he was for loving it. “You’re right about that form.” Pushing off the desk, he purposely towered over her, expecting her to step back or at the very least lower her gaze, but his usual go-to intimidation tactic was greeted with…nothing, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “You should read it over and sign it so when the door opens you won’t be held up.”
Walking around the desk, he opened a drawer. “I had the gag clause amended. I hope you don’t—”
“Yes?”
She’d moved from in front of the desk to beside it. Beside him. He wasn’t used to being stalked. Normally he was the one who did the shadowing. “Mind,” he continued, “the conditions are all intact, and I just lengthened the timeframe.”
She shrugged and accepted the document. “Pen?”
He passed it to her and watched as she bent and signed without preamble. “Impulsive,” he whispered, admiring the line of her back and the nice curve to her ass.
“Again, no,” she said, her fingers brushing his as she returned the form and pen. “I do read my emails, Mr. White. You sent me a copy of this revision last week.”
He’d forgotten about that. He searched her face, stopping at her lips. “Call me Ethan.”
He knew his quiet request worried her and she had every right to be concerned. His inner trigger had been pulled and now he was the one throwing off signals. Actually, just one. A lone message for her to read loud and clear and she was. He could tell by the way she nervously licked her lips. The action stroked a dark part of him that he’d been trying to control since they first met this afternoon. She’d shifted and the scent of perfume hit him and he’d known they were both in trouble. Because now all he wanted to do was get closer to her.
“How’s your foot? Let me see it.” He sat in the leather chair with elbows braced on his thighs and held his hands out.
“I will not.” She stepped back so fast she stumbled, but he was quick and caught her.
“Come on.” Slowly he pulled her toward him and was a little surprised she didn’t balk or at least protest. He held eye contact with her. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. I just want to check and see how that toe is.”
“It’s fine.”
She looked right and then left, no doubt planning her escape route. Unfortunately there would be no escape for her if he could help it. Drawing her toward him, so close he had to lean back to make room for her, he smiled and patted the desk. “Sit here so I can check your foot.”