Surrender A Section 8 Novel - By Stephanie Tyler Page 0,59

from the first jolted through her. His arousal was rock hard against her belly and her sex was wet for him.

If he’d rolled away first, she wasn’t sure what she would’ve done, but he made the decision for both of them when he lowered his mouth to hers.

It was a hard, desperate kiss that left her wanting more immediately. It was as if they were in a fog, suspended between wake and sleep, confusion and clarity, where anything could happen. When they were at their most vulnerable.

She arched her back, pressed her hips up into him, and he responded in kind, grinding his pelvis into hers in a way that suggested nothing less than down-and-dirty sex that would leave them both breathless.

“Grace,” he murmured as he kissed his way down her neck. Was he still dreaming? Did it matter?

How had she ended up a part of his dreams?

His hand released her wrists, and he thrust against her, his cock hard against her sex. She groaned and bucked up against him, and the sound seemed to rouse him.

He stopped, stared down at her. Looked confused, and then, “Ah, fuck. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No. I should’ve known better than to touch you like that.”

“Because you have nightmares too. Guess we’re both all fucked-up,” he muttered.

“Guess so.” She smoothed the hair away from his forehead. “Do your dreams have to do with the scars on your hands?”

“Yeah.” He glanced down at his hands, which were on either side of her. “I don’t even remember it hurting when it happened.”

“When you’re in it, when it’s actually happening, pain is the least of your worries.”

He nodded his agreement. “Key saved my life. For a long time, I wished he’d left me to die, for both our sakes.” He faltered for a long second, and then he told her what had happened. She was sure that for her sake he brushed over how horrific it actually was, but she knew. His eyes looked haunted.

She was also furious at Rip. At herself, for not finding a way to take him down, even if it meant hurting herself in the process. “I’m sorry, Dare.”

“I’m still here. I’m not built to break.”

She felt the flicker of a smile ghost across her face. “I think I’m not either.”

“I know you’re not.”

* * *

Dare knew that lighting the fire at Grace’s would come back to bite him in the ass during sleep, bring back memories of the jungle and a very different fire. He’d thought that just this once he might sleep a little longer, especially with Grace snuggled against him, but from the worried look on her face, he knew his nightmare had been full-fledged.

Part of him wanted to push her away, retreat. But he needed her. She was half on him, running her fingers through his hair, smoothing the sweat from his face and neck with a washcloth, like he’d done for her earlier.

His cock was as rigid as his posture. She ran a hand down his belly and wrapped a palm around the thick column, and he stilled his breathing.

“I haven’t been touched in a long time,” he said quietly.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. Too fucking much, Grace. I don’t want to goddamned care.”

You can have this job, or you can have relationships, Dare’s father had once told him. To be successful at either, choose one and never look back.

Still, Dare knew that leaving his mother had cost his father dearly. There was always a price with these jobs, and most of the time, it left a deep scar right down the middle of your life like a road map to hell.

Dare was headed down that same damned path, and it was already littered with mistakes and regrets.

“Will you tell me what happened?” she asked now.

“I lost everyone on my team. Those guys served as my family for ten-plus years.” The grief in his eyes was as unmistakable as his expression was unreadable. “One minute we were in charge of the situation, and the next, everything exploded. Literally. They never found the bodies.”

He choked those last words out. His lungs had tightened like he was breathing the thick smoke that got caught in the jungle air, unable to escape. Just like him.

Grace’s hands were cool on his shoulders. They rubbed, kneaded the tension, worked his neck muscles; then she was kissing where her hands had touched.

Both had a background of pain—that alone was enough to bond them—but there was more there, and Dare would be a fool