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Back Sweet Surrender Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. TABLE OF CONTENTS
  3. PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG
  4. ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG
  5. CHAPTER ONE
  6. CHAPTER TWO
  7. CHAPTER THREE
  8. CHAPTER FOUR
  9. CHAPTER FIVE
  10. CHAPTER SIX
  11. CHAPTER SEVEN
  12. CHAPTER EIGHT
  13. CHAPTER NINE
  14. CHAPTER TEN
  15. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  16. CHAPTER TWELVE
  17. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  18. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  19. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  20. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  21. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  22. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  23. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  44. CHAPTER FORTY
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  53. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  54. CHAPTER FIFTY
  55. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  56. CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
  57. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
  58. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
  59. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
  60. CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
  61. CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
  62. CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
  63. CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
  64. CHAPTER SIXTY
  65. CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
  66. CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
  67. CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
  68. CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
  69. CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
  70. CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
  71. EPILOGUE
  72. EPILOGUE TWO
  73. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

But I stop listening to their conversation because I’m too wrapped up in my own head. Too fixated on one sentence Jase just said.

Wanting you and not being able to have you.

Fuck.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Gizmo

Exhaustion hits the second I step out of the studio. When I’m within those four walls, I’m invigorated. Motivated. But the minute that door opens, the moment the music and creativity stops, I’m spent.

That and maybe—just maybe—I’m waiting until I know Hendrix is asleep. I pushed every limit I could earlier without breaking them. My body remembers all too well the feel of her ass nestled up against my cock, and it hasn’t exactly forgiven me yet.

“Christ,” I mutter as I pad down the hallway toward the kitchen in bare feet. I roll my shoulders, muscles stiff from playing too damn long.

But hedging my bets seemed like it worked. The house is quiet, the kind of silence that makes you feel the space all around you. Makes you want to create noise to break it up and at the same time tiptoe so as to respect it.

I’ve had some of my best creativity runs in this kind of silence but not tonight. Nowhere close. My mind was too occupied with Hendrix and the softness of her skin and her intoxicating scent.

When I reach the kitchen, I stop short.

There’s a place setting on the island with something wrapped in tinfoil next to the plate. As I approach, I find a note scribbled on a torn piece of paper beside it.

Thought you might be hungry. Here’s to celebrating another first. Our first fight. Our first make-up. Our first successful Operation Live-A-Little. Food is in the warming drawer. Don’t say I never do anything nice for my husband.

-H

A smirk tugs at my lips. Smart-ass.

And as much as she might be, she’s the one who took the time to be considerate. To take care of me after a long day’s work.

Can’t say anyone has ever done that for me before. Or rather, maybe I’ve never given someone the opportunity to do that.

There’s something to be said about that, but my brain’s too tired to recognize it.

I peel back the foil, and the scent of garlic bread hits me. My mouth waters as I move to the other side of the island and pull open the warming drawer to find a plate loaded with pasta and what looks like a bolognese.

Jesus. The woman knows a way to a man’s heart.

Have I eaten since breakfast? Hell. No wonder I’m starving.