Waiting For You (Beautiful Surrender #1)
Author: Ava Claire

Chapter One

“Are you wearing lingerie?”

My face dropped like a ton of bricks. I’d pulled out the big guns and scoured Victoria’s Secret for something that gave me the illusion of killer boobs despite my barely B cup br**sts. I scored matching bottoms to minimize my pear-shaped h*ps and butt. I’d rolled on some stockings even though I hated the things, and I topped off the ensemble with gravity defying heels. He loved my waist length white blond hair when it was down so I obliged, adding strategic waves to frame my face. I was going for a soft sensuality, his good girl gone bad. And he was scowling at me like I was the most offensive thing he’d ever seen.

He tossed his keys on the side table. “Anything for me?”

He leafed through the mail. Leafed. Through. The. Mail. Like spam and bills were preferable to me in lingerie. His girlfriend, who wasn’t keeping count but knew that it had been 2 weeks, 3 days, and 10 hours since she’d been touched in an erotic way. And from the looks of it, tonight was quickly becoming a bust.

I cleared my throat. He drew his deep blue eyes from the stack of envelopes, his eyebrows arched expectantly. Hurt and anger warred inside me. I had expectations. I expected the guy who claimed he loved me to want to touch me without being asked or cajoled into it.

I grew up with Jason Collier, and even though everyone saw that we belonged together, we didn’t start dating until after we left for college. We happened to end up in neighboring cities, both majoring in Marketing and Communication. I’d been with other guys, but nothing had lasted.

Until Jason.

I could still remember our first kiss. The first time we said I love you. The first time we discovered each other’s bodies.

Our nights were filled with enough heat and passion to make the very sound of his voice thrust me to orgasm. He could barely keep his hands to himself, his eyes alight with need as he took me whenever and wherever he could get me. In his dorm, in my dorm, and when we graduated and moved in together, in every room and on every surface in our apartment.

We’d been living together for a little over a year, and I wasn’t naïve. I knew it was the honeymoon phase where everything was new and spontaneous and a little dirty. I knew time would whittle our trysts down to a couple of times a week, but we went from clawing at each other like horny teenagers to barely touching each other every couple of weeks.

I tried again, twirling a blonde tendril around my finger. “Do you like my outfit?”

He threw me a half-hearted once over. “It’s great.”

A deep, hollow sadness flared in my chest as he tugged off his tie. Where did we go wrong? I still traced his jaw with my fingertips and leaned in for kisses that led nowhere. I threw hot and heavy looks his way that he deflected. Lately, I’d even given up on being coy and went right for the part of him that used to go wild for me, only to have my advances rebuffed. Thinking back on it, things hadn’t been good with us for a long time, but I held on to those first months. I held on to the three words we had said to each other.

I’d asked if he still wanted me, still loved me, and the answer was always yes. He cited work exhaustion as his excuse. And while he worked long hours, his schedule hadn’t intensified since those lust-filled days and nights from before. He claimed nothing had changed, but I knew it wasn’t true. I had made his favorite dinner, bought his favorite wine, and had planned on him having me for dessert – but he couldn’t even look at me. In fact, he was looking at everywhere but me. At the clock on the wall, at his hands, on the floor. He was right in front of me, the same blond haired, blue-eyed, devastatingly gorgeous man I’d fallen in love with, but he felt like a stranger.

Luckily, I had a plan B, a last ditch effort to pump some much needed lust back into our relationship. The reservation confirmation was tucked inside a slender white envelope beside the bottle of wine. Inside was our escape. I knew he had three days off coming up, and Santa Cruz was his favorite place to vacation so I snatched up a rental in Pleasure Point. Sun, sand, romance – it would be just what we needed. It would save us.

I grasped the envelope tightly. I trembled with excitement even though his cold reception made me worry that maybe it was too late. Maybe we were too far gone.

I silenced the thought, turning back to Jason. “I have something to tell you–”

“Actually, I have something to tell you too.”

I didn’t need psychic abilities to figure out whatever he wanted to talk to me about wasn’t good. Still, I smiled, ignoring the voice inside me that whispered that he hadn’t said I love you back in weeks and I had practically begged him to come home a little earlier today just for my surprise.

He looked past me, finally noticing the spread I’d prepared. His voice was low and melancholy. “You cooked alfredo?”

I nodded so hard, so eagerly, I thought my head would snap off. “I know it’s your favorite.”

He swallowed hard, not meeting my gaze. “You didn’t have to do that, Melissa.”

My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach. Melissa – I wasn’t Melissa unless he was pissed. He called me Mel, turning something that used to bring images of a balding, overweight mechanic into something erotic and sensual. My full name on his tongue felt stiff and formal. He was still near me, but there was an invisible wall between us, growing brick by brick with every awkward second that passed .

“You know I care for you.” His deep voice was low and uncomfortable, scraping over my exposed flesh like a scouring pad. It laid waste to my optimism, leaving me with a bitter knowledge. A truth I didn’t want to face. There was no escaping it now.

“This isn’t working for me anymore.”

My eyelids dropped and I struggled to keep the tears at bay. I wasn’t sure I could handle the standard line I knew he’d use.

I asked anyway. “Why, Jason?”

And 3, 2, 1…“You’re a great girl, Melissa.” He paused. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

My eyes flew open and I surprised us both by laughing. Bitter, gut wrenching guffaws that ripped out my insides. With those words, this new hurt found a familiar home with every other guy I’d dated. Men who cited unknown needs, pieces that were missing, time that was wasted. I knew they thought they were doing me a favor by taking the blame, but it brought me no relief. It was insulting that none of them had the balls to give it to me straight.

I wiped hot tears from my face, glaring at him. “After everything we’ve been through, don’t bullshit me.”