Surrender (Disarm, Band 3) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

June Gray is a daydreamer who, at the age of ten, penned a short story inspired by a Judy Blume novel and has been unable to stop writing since. She loves to tell stories that titillate and enrage, that break the reader’s heart and put it back together again.

Her fairy-tale life has been lived on four different continents—most recently, in a two-hundred-forty-year-old castle in rural Germany owned by a Graf. She was born in the Philippines, raised in Australia, and now calls the United States home, and she can currently be found enjoying the shores of Miami with her husband, two daughters, and a miniature schnauzer.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

PART ONE

ASCEND

Over Five Years Ago . . .

“I don’t think that kind of love—the kind you read in romance novels—actually exists.”

Jason Sherman, my boyfriend, fixed me with a skeptical stare. “You don’t?”

“You do?”

“I’ve seen it. It exists,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Three words: Henry and Elsie. Those two are so in love with each other but are too dumb to figure it out.”

“You said they weren’t even dating.”

“No, they’re not. I should just knock their heads together to give them a clue. Everyone else knows but them.” Jason slid his arm under my head and gathered me close. “Anyway, that’s the kind of love I was talking about. Sometimes you just love someone without even knowing.”

I studied his handsome face, jaw scruffy from not having shaved for a few days. I liked him, more than anyone I’d ever known in my life, but did I love him the way his sister felt about his best friend?

Was the fact that I was questioning my feelings a sign that I already did?

“Do you, um, want that with me?” I asked, afraid to meet his eyes.

Jason touched my chin and tipped my head up. “I want everything with you.”

“What if I can’t love you like that?” I asked. “My parents’ marriage was pretty screwed up. I don’t know if I even know how to be a good girlfriend.”

“You’re doing fine so far.”

“Fine?”

He laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest. “You’re a great girlfriend, Julie Keaton,” he said, cupping my face and kissing me tenderly. “And that’s why I was talking about the kind of love that burns so bright it lights you up from the inside—because that’s how I feel about you.”

A lump caught in my throat and it took a few minutes to figure out how to breathe around it. “What if I can’t love you the same way?”

“Stop questioning yourself, Jules,” Jason said, kissing my forehead. “It will happen naturally.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll try.”

I settled onto his chest, my muscles finally starting to unwind. Talk of love and of the future had always unnerved me. I could lay all the blame on my parents for the way I am with men, but deep down, I knew that my actions were my own. The fact that I was inept at love and relationships was my own doing, but maybe, just maybe, I’d finally found the right person to trust with my heart.

“Will you write me romantic war letters while you’re deployed?” I asked after some time, toying with the trail of hair below his navel.

“E-mail is faster,” he said with a grin. “And I’ll call whenever I can.”

I slid my hand down and took hold of his already swollen shaft, pressing my lips to his Adam’s apple. “Will you dream about me?”

He groaned, his hips arching up to my hand. “Every fucking night.” Then he flipped over and crouched over me, his eyes raking over my naked body. “I’ll remember you just like this.”

“Unshowered and smelly from hours of sex?”

He dipped his head and pressed his face to my chest, nuzzling my breast with his bristly cheek as he inhaled deeply. “You smell perfect—like sex and sweat and me.”

“Jason,” I said, grabbing what I could of his short hair and lifting his face to mine. “I do care about you a lot. You know that, right?”

His eyes pierced mine, so blue and bright. “Then show me.”

I gripped his shaft and guided him to my entrance, taking all of him into me, loving him the only way I knew how. I gasped as he withdrew then slid all the way back home, opening my legs to allow him farther inside.

“I love you, Julie. When I get back, I’m going to take you back to Oklahoma City with me.”

I stilled, my legs wrapped around his back. “You will?”

“Just try and stop me,” he ground out before thrusting back into me. “Nothing’s going to keep me from you anymore.”

1

The lonely seagull caught my eye as I jogged, and I followed it along the water’s edge, picking up speed to keep up. Eventually the bird turned toward the horizon, its silhouette dark against the brilliant orange and blue Monterey sunrise. I stopped to catch my breath, the view of the ocean before me stealing the air from my lungs.

I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the wind, tasting the ocean breeze on my tongue. I gazed back out at the sea and saw a lone figure out on the water, sitting on his surfboard and biding his time. When a large wave rolled by, he caught it and leapt onto his board effortlessly, crouching down as the ocean carried him along. He took a few rapid steps to the front of his board, looking as if he were just floating above the waves, then cantered back to the center of the board. He rode the wave to the shore, standing tall until his board finally sank under the water.

He paddled back out again to wait for another wave, traversing the ocean as if it were nothing but air. I watched him, mesmerized, as he caught another wave and flawlessly sailed back to the shore.

“Morning,” he called out. It was only after he said it again that I realized he was talking to me.

“Oh, hi,” I said, watching as he tucked the board under his arm and ambled closer. It was only when he was a few feet away that I noticed he towered over my five-foot-ten frame. I took in his full-body wetsuit, appreciating how it accented his slim hips that flared up to wide shoulders.

“A little early for a morning run, isn’t it?” he asked with a smile in his eyes.

“A little cold for surfing, isn’t it?” I countered, raising an eyebrow as I sent a teasing look down to his crotch.

He grinned, and if I thought the sunrise took my breath away, his smile inflated me with a strange buoyant feeling. I smiled back, unable to help myself. “Not going to lie, it’s pretty cold,” he said. “There’s definitely some shrinkage going on.”

I burst out laughing, taken aback by his crude kind of charm, the kind I liked best. “Well, your board is plenty long enough to make up for it.”

His eyes widened, and suddenly he was laughing along with me. “You know what they say about men with longboards,” he said, standing his surfboard upright beside him.

“No, what?”

“That we have plenty of wood to wax.”

I let myself go as we dissolved into a fit of laughter. It felt good, trading jokes with this stranger. It was the first time in a long time that I actually felt light and without care.

He held out a hand, his dark brown eyes trained on me. “I’m Neal.”

“Julie,” I said, surprised to find his hand warm. I took a moment to look him over, to his wavy light brown hair tinged with gold, his straight and narrow nose, and the boyish smile that curled up at the ends. “Have you been surfing all your life?” I asked, hoping to keep him talking for a little while longer.

“Yeah, for the most part. I grew up by the ocean, actually. You can say salt water runs through my veins.” He ran his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back.

“I understand. I love it here.”

“Do you live nearby?”

“I’m actually...