The Beauty of Surrender by Eden Bradley

won’t affect my judgment with you. It does not make you unsafe with me.”
    The edge of desire in his voice, the raw power of what he was telling her, went through her like an electric charge, lighting her nerve endings with need. Lust, sharp and pure. Her breasts tightened, her sex swelling between her tightly clasped thighs.
    God, if he could do this with only his voice, a few plainly spoken words, what else might he do to her?
    “Sir …”
    “Desmond.”
    “Desmond.” The name sounded strange on her lips. Strange but lovely. Seductive. “The feeling is mutual.”
    “We are on the same page, then.”
    “Yes,” she said, breathless. Her body, her head, was buzzing. “I want you to come to me again. At the club this time. I wantto see how you respond in front of an audience. You did say you had a streak of exhibitionism.”
    “Yes! Please.”
    He laughed. “We are going to have a very interesting journey together, Ava.”
    Journeys. They always had a beginning, and an end. She didn’t like to think about that part. “Yes, I think we will.”
    “Read your books. I’ll pick you up tomorrow and take you to Pinnacle. Nine o’clock. Dress all in white for me. Clothing, lingerie, everything.”
    “Yes, Desmond.”
    “Good girl.”
    A wave of pleasure rippled through her. She wanted to be good for him, more than anything. Perfect. Or as close to it as possible.
    “Good night, sweet Ava. Rest and be ready for me tomorrow.”
    “I will. I’ll be ready.”
    Ready and wet and pliant for him. Oh, yes …
    They hung up the phone.
    Desmond could not believe how easily he’d sidestepped getting into talking about his own past with her. He could not believe how much he’d wanted to tell her. His dark secrets, those things he didn’t talk about, think about. Not even Marina knew the whole story. She knew nothing about Nessie.
    Small shot of pain even thinking of her name.
    Marina knew only what had happened with Lara. How she’d left him. How that had embittered him.
    As though he hadn’t been bitter before.
    But no, when he’d met Lara he’d opened himself to her, put his past behind him. And look what that had wrought. No, he was better off like this, living his life as he had for the last ten years.
    Until now. Until this girl had reached inside him somehow.
    He went to the window, his stomach knotting, but he wasn’t really seeing the view, the sparkle of lights against the night sky.
    Not too deeply. He’d make sure of that. He wasn’t going to go through that shit ever again. He knew himself. Knew what he was capable of. And what he no longer was.
    Things with Ava would be just fine. He had to have her, really have her, and she’d be out of his system. But the timing had to be right in order for him to serve her needs in the way he owed her, owed any bottom he played with.
    He moved away from the window, went to the dining room and opened the doors on the sideboard, pulled a bottle of Scotch out of the bar inside. Glenfiddich single malt, forty years old. One of his small indulgences, aside from the gadgets in his office. He poured two fingers, threw it back in one swallow. A shame to waste rare Scotch in this way, but he needed it.
    It warmed him quickly, and he poured some more, not really paying attention to how much.
    He should go downstairs, into his office, get some work done. He lifted the glass to his lips, inhaled the sharp, sweet scent, thought better of it, and took it into the kitchen, poured it down the sink.
    What the hell was going on with him?
    He ran a hand over his hair, blew out a slow breath.
    Work it out, damn it .
    Yes. Work. He headed down the stairs, into his office. His retreat, if he was being honest with himself. He’d been honest enough on the phone with Ava already tonight. He’d had enough honesty. Right now, he would bury himself in work and simply forget.

Chapter Seven
    H E WAS UNDER the water. Above him the sun was shining through in undulating, glassy shafts. But