Surrender by Metsy Hingle Read Free Book Online

Aimee as though he’d been slapped.
    Her pulse still pounding furiously, Aimee barely registered Liza’s retreating footsteps or her threat to return with a key. But there was no mistaking the insult-or Peter’s reaction to it.
    Following Peter’s lead, Aimee took a deep, measured breath of her own. She leaned against the door, her senses still reeling, her body weak with desire brought to a fever pitch, only to be left hanging. Silently she damned her friend’s timing and her acid tongue.
    She eyed Peter as he straightened his shirt and rebuckled his belt, both envying and resenting him for his ability to reassert control over his senses so easily.
    She, unfortunately, didn’t possess such recuperative abilities—especially not where Peter was concerned. Nor was she as adept as he was at shutting off her feelings.
    And that was the problem, Aimee admitted, frowning. Her emotions were involved. Her affair with Peter wasn’t based on simple lust. She was in love with him. That was why her response to him was always so powerful, so all-consuming. It wasn’t simply her body that responded to his touch, but her heart, as well.
    Surely Peter felt something for her, something that went beyond the physical chemistry they shared. She refused to believe that he could hold her, touch her, make love to her, as he did without some part of his heart being involved.
    At least that was what she had told herself. She had also told the same thing to Liza when the other woman questioned her wisdom in engaging in an affair with Peter.
    True, he was a bit jaded when it came to love. But it was the failure of his first marriage that caused him to be so skeptical. The scars evidently ran very deep. He was scared,even cynical, where marriage was concerned, and perhaps even a bit paranoid about divorce and its aftermath. That was why he had insisted on the prenuptial agreement. He truly believed divorce was inevitable.
    She believed no such thing. That was why she had refused to sign the dumb thing—not because she gave a lick about his money, property settlements or alimony.
    She didn’t. Those were things. They meant nothing to her. But Peter meant everything. It was him she cared about. It was him she loved. Not his gallery or his stock portfolio.
    Aimee sighed. All he needed was time, and her love, to heal him. That was why she had suggested they have an affair. But, Lord, when was the man going to realize she really did love him? And when was he going to open his eyes and realize that his feelings for her ran deeper than lust?
    And what if he never does? What if lust is all he does feel for you?
    The questions sprang from somewhere buried deep inside her. From the same place that made her wonder sometimes whether she possessed any real talent, whether she deserved to call herself an artist.
    Aimee gave herself a mental shake, dismissing the negative thoughts. Think positive, she told herself. She had to envision Peter falling in love with her the same way she envisioned her discovery as an artist. Both would happen, as long as she believed they would. That was the key. She had to believe Peter would fall in love with her, just as she had fallen in love with him.
    She studied Peter as he adjusted the collar of his shirt. His handsome face was inscrutable, and his deep blue eyes were hooded. He seemed so cool, so remote. He certainly bore no resemblance to a man in love. A man with secrets, Liza had called him. Looking at him now, Aimee could easily believe he did have secrets-secrets he would be unwilling to share.
    A flicker of doubt shimmied down her spine, making Aimee’s stomach knot. Could Liza be right? In addition to bedding her, was Peter also after something else?
    No! Aimee shoved the thought aside. But as she refastened the snap of her shorts and straightened her clothes, Liza’s words came back to haunt her…
    The beast definitely has the hots for you, kiddo. No question about that. The only time the guy ever comes close