Surrender to More Read online

  Surrender To More

  The Evermore Series Book 3

  Rachel De Lune

  Contents

  Surrender To More

  Synopsis

  Acknowledgments

  Quote

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  About Rachel De Lune

  More books by Rachel De Lune

  Synopsis

  Trust. A simple notion for some, but impossibly out of reach for Jessica Riley.

  The walls around her heart are built high from betrayal and years of keeping everyone at arm’s length. She’s happy with the way her life is, or so she thought.

  Hard core Dom, Lucas Clark, was immediately drawn to Jessica. As their paths continue to cross, Lucas tests Jessica’s submissive nature, as well as her steadfast resolve to keep her emotions out of her relationships. He wants more than just sex. He demands Jess’ trust. The one thing she keeps locked away.

  As their bond intensifies, Jessica fears that this Greek God will put the pieces of her heart back together. Family, marriages and ghosts of her past all plague her ability to trust her own decisions, especially the ones that revolve around love.

  A woman who’s afraid of heart break fights her own surrender against the man who doesn’t let her play it safe anymore.

  ©All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written consent from the author, except that of small quotations used in critical reviews and promotions via blogs.

  Surrender to More is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Surrender to More ©2018 Rachel De Lune

  Cover design by LJDesigns

  Book design by LJDesigns

  Editing by PAK and H.A. Robinson

  Rachel De Lune on Social Media:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/racheldeluneauthor/

  Instagram: www.instagram.com/racheldeluneauthor

  Website: www.racheldelune.com

  Acknowledgments

  This story is for all of the readers who have supported me. I never planned to write anything other than Izzy and Seb. Now I have Jess and Lucas in my life, (plus some other characters plotting away) and I know it’s because of your encouragement. Thank you.

  To my wonderful critique partners. You never let me down and are always there to help, support and encourage. Not to mention put up with early drafts of my work. Elizabeth SaFleur, Kris Michaels and Marilyn Lakewood, I love you girls.

  To my American Mum, T. You continue to make me want to work harder. I might want to pull out my hair and curse the English language on the way, but I appreciate your endless patience.

  Stephy, I wrote another one! Thank you for your endless support and dedication. I couldn’t imagine doing all of this without you at my back.

  Roxane, what can I say. You have become a cherished friend who gives me no end of encouragement, smiles, wise words and giggles. I am so thankful that our little book world introduced us. Thank you for all of your input into Surrender. Big hugs.

  To my ‘filthy words’ fellow author Charlotte E Hart, thank you for being you and giving me the confidence (not that I had a choice) to come to my first signing with you. You’ll never realise how much I needed your encouragement.

  Leanne, I said it before and I’ll say it again. Believe in yourself because I do.

  Rebecca Prescott, I’m so proud of you, lady. Thank you for the pins, messages and general support. Our boards are a god-send when I’m up to my eyes with edits!

  To L.J Stock, it’s been so much fun working with you. It took a lot for me to let go of the control of my cover, but I’m so pleased with the results. Here’s to the next one.

  To all of the blogs who have supported me and helped spread the word about my book babies I say a massive thank you. To Wendy Shatwell and Claire Allmendinger, you girls are superstars. Thank you for all of your hard work and dedication.

  To John, thank you for holding my hand and being proud of me.

  Vicki, thank you for all of your enthusiasm. I love our updates and chats in the writing office!

  To Hubs, I love you.

  Lastly, to all the readers, fellow authors and blogs who have liked, commented, reviewed, messaged or read my words. Thank you. It really means the world. Hugs all round.

  My phone blinged an incoming text.

  I’m back! I’ve had the best time. We need to meet up soon. Izzy

  I smiled. Izzy’s honeymoon was two weeks too long as far as I was concerned. I’d missed her.

  Yeah! Glad you’re back. I’d love to meet up. Just let me know when. Jess

  I’m relieved my best friend is back in contact. The last two weeks have weighed heavily on my mind without Izzy to talk with.

  Since Izzy’s wedding, I’ve not been able to settle. I’ve stuck to my usual set of rules that have kept me in one piece—my heart intact—for the last eight years. No emotional commitments. But, standing beside Izzy as she married Seb, for the first time, I doubted myself, and it scared me.

  Seeing the love radiate from Izzy as she spoke her vows, pledged her love and watched as Seb mirrored it all back to her, was something to behold. There could be no doubt as to their love, and suddenly I felt small in the face of it.

  Have I done the right thing all these years? I picture myself as a lonely old woman. The fear that image engenders almost matches the pain of walking in on Pete in bed with my friend. Almost.

  Did you want to meet for a coffee? Or I can pop over. Izzy

  Come over. I’ll put the kettle on. Jess

  I’ve never wanted to see Izzy more than I do right now. The last year has been hard on her, and I’ve had to help pull her through. Now, I need Izzy to help pull me out of my funk. I need her to help me talk out my fears because they were beginning to preoccupy my mind. Was I too shut off to change? Did I want to change? Would the potential for hurt outweigh the chance for something meaningful?

  “Hello!” Izzy calls from the hall. Excitement rings in her voice in that single word.

  “In the kitchen.”

  She bursts through and lights up the room. The smile on her face is infectious. I put the cups of tea on the table and pull her into a huge hug as she drops her bags. Izzy has calmed my anxiety by simply being here and for that, I love her a little bit more than I did yesterday.

  “So, how was it?”

  “Oh, Jess. It was wonderful. It was everything I wanted. New York was amazing and so were his parents. We ate out so much.”

  “I’d love to go to New York.”

  “Well, now we could go and have a girls’ weekend. Oooh, we could go shopping.”

  “Really, you know I hate shopping.”

  “Which is why I got you these.” She pulls a shoebox from the bag and sets it on the table. I stare at the box and then back to her. “Well, go on then,” she encourages.

  I peek under the lid and see a red velour cover. I raise my eyes to Izzy, who simply
nods like an excited puppy, encouraging me to explore further. I open the box properly, pull the material bag open, and pull out two black shoes.

  “Do you like them?” Izzy immediately takes one from my hand, holding it as if it were a delicate piece of porcelain.

  “They’re lovely. Thank you. But I already have black shoes.”

  “But these are Louboutin’s. You don’t have these. These are the pinnacle of shoes. You’ll love them.” Izzy puts the shoe back on the table as if she was presenting me with Cinderella’s glass slipper.

  “You know you’re the shoe girl. I’m not sure I’ll ever get to wear them. You should keep them.”

  “I have my own, besides, I bought these for you. Please take them. Even if you just look at them.”

  She’s lost her marbles. I can’t contain the burst of laughter that explodes from my mouth. Izzy soon joins the giggles, and we take a while to get our hysterics under control.

  “I love you Izzy, but only you could think about buying shoes just to look at them.”

  “I know. These are very practical. I made sure not to get the…”

  “Enough about the shoes. I like them, and I’ll attempt to wear them. Happy?”

  “Ecstatic. Now, what’s been happening here with you?” Her question dampens my earlier elation, and I’m right back to reality.

  “I ended things with Greg.”

  “Really? How come? I was hopeful, you know. You’ve been seeing him for a while.”

  “Yes, but he kept pressing me about moving in together. No matter how many times I told him, he couldn’t accept that I wanted nothing permanent from our relationship and kept pushing me. He wasn’t the confident guy I first liked. He wanted me to fit in with his plan, and I wasn’t okay with that so…”

  “You ended things.” I can’t miss the slight sigh at the end of Izzy’s reply.

  “Your wedding sort of hit me and not how I expected it to.”

  “I’d be surprised if you weren’t affected. Were you okay? I was pretty pre-occupied once we got there.”

  “And so you should, it was your wedding. I was fine, really. Just it got me thinking. You know, about my rules and the future.”

  “And…”

  “And, I don’t know. I feel scared. I know I’m not going to find love…”

  “You don’t know that…”

  “Izzy, I do. I’m done with love. And I’ve been okay with that. I just hadn’t realised being done with love also meant I might be alone for the rest of my life. That is… a great big slap in my face. Greg isn’t the one for me, but what if I’m being too protective of my heart?”

  “Would you be willing to talk to someone about how you feel? Amanda Cross really helped me. Maybe you could talk to her?”

  I close my eyes in dread at the mere thought of dragging up what I’ve spent eight years trying to forget. I turn the cup of tea around in my hand and try to pretend Izzy didn’t ask me that question.

  “Jess, what do you think?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with talking to a stranger.”

  “She’s a lovely woman who will put you at ease. You don’t have to worry about her. Plus, you said you’re confused over how you’re feeling.”

  “I’m not confused. My past history with men has led to abandonment and pain. Seeing you stand up in front of your nearest and dearest has put my situation into a stark light. I’m scared of what my future holds.”

  “Even more reason to book an appointment. You can take it as slowly as you like with her. You will feel better, perhaps even be able to get a better perspective.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, feeling panic rise as the air leaves my lips.

  “Excellent. I’ll text you the number to make an appointment.” Izzy drinks her lukewarm tea. I suddenly need a stronger drink.

  “Oh, Seb and I thought we’d have a few people over for dinner in a couple weeks. You’ll come won’t you?”

  “Sure, when is it?”

  “Two weeks’ time. Saturday night. It’s sort of a dinner party thing.”

  “Will anyone be there that I know?”

  “Umm...Natasha and whoever she brings. You remember Natasha, right? Seb’s friend?”

  “Yeah...I think so. Tall, assertive brunette? Really attractive?”

  “Yes. I would have said bring Greg, but I’m not sure how you feel about that now.”

  “I made it clear to him we aren’t going anywhere. Can’t I come on my own?”

  “Of course you can. You know that.” She finishes her tea and fawns over the new shoes one last time before I grab her bag from the floor.

  “Right, I need to get home. I’ll text you. Let me know about seeing Amanda.”

  “I will. See you soon.”

  I close the door on Izzy, head back to the kitchen and pull out the bottle of wine in the fridge. Devil heels and exposing my raw insides to a stranger, all in one quick catch up. I deserve a glass.

  My appointment with Dr. Cross is set for five. Despite all of the encouragement and reassurance from Izzy, I still dread this.

  Light spills from the glass fronted building illuminating the dark winter evening. I pull open the heavy door and sign in at the reception desk. I sit and wait on one of the plush sofas and try not to feel impatient.

  My phone vibrates and I pull it from my bag, only to shove it back in when I see Greg’s name on the screen. He is the last person I want to hear from, although he doesn’t seem to be getting the message. I hear the phone vibrate again and ignore it. If Greg wants to talk, then he can leave a voicemail.

  I check my watch and the clock above the door. It’s already ten past five. This isn’t your ordinary GP surgery where you expect to wait for your appointment. Izzy didn’t mention the £90 a session price tag either. I walk back over to the polite, young receptionist.

  “Excuse me. Do you know how much longer I’ll be waiting to see Dr. Cross?”

  “I’m sorry ma’am. Dr. Cross is running a little behind. She’ll be ready to see you shortly.”

  “Thank you.” I sit back down and mentally calm myself. I’m being bitchy and it’s because being here, talking to a professional about my… feelings, means I need to own up and face the cause of it.

  “Excuse me, Miss Riley?” Every atom of my being responds to the deep smoky voice. “Yes.” My breathy response embarrasses me. “Um, yes. That’s me.” I straighten in my seat before I turn my eyes up to the man who spoke my name. Holy Jesus Christ! A tall, dark haired, green-eyed Adonis stands before me. He holds out his hand to introduce himself.

  “I’m Dr. Clark. Dr. Cross is running a little late. I thought I’d start with some of the paper work while we wait.” His lips move and I’m transfixed. My arm moves of its own volition towards his palm. My hand slides into his and the gentle squeeze of his fingers around mine melts a part of me. We shake. The contact lasts longer than I’d usually be happy with. Not this time. I don’t want to drop his hand.

  “Pleased to meet you.” I don’t recognise my own voice. I look up into his eyes and see them darken. The pupils grow wider. My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I sit down before my legs give out.

  Dr. Clark steps around me and takes a seat at the other end of the sofa. A cool, fresh scent fills my senses as he passes. Yum.

  “If you would fill this out, please.” He hands me a clipboard with some papers attached to it. I focus on what he’s handed me. Name, address, date of birth… mundane basic information to register with The Clark Practice.

  I dutifully start writing my details. I try not to sneak glances at Dr. Clark, but I can’t stop myself. I’m magnetically drawn to his stubble covered jaw, his forest green eyes. He hasn’t stopped his observation of me. That thought heats my body faster than baking in the mid-day sun.

  He sits and leans forward, his weight supported by his forearms on his knees. I watch as he knits his fingers together, flexes them and then repeats. His hands are the only part of him that moves.


  I want to know what those fingers are capable of. I want to push him back in his seat and climb on his lap and let him work his hands over my body. Holy crap!

  My hand scribbles the remaining information across the form, and I focus—hard—on stopping my eyes from lifting. I fail.

  “Here you are.” I hand the paperwork back and he accepts.

  His eyes penetrate me. They make me feel like he’s reading every nuance of my body, that he enjoys what he reads in me because I’m an open book to him. His lips twitch into a fraction of a smile, and my eyes dart to his mouth. They shouldn’t have. Now, in addition to his hands, I want his lips all over my body.

  “Thank you, Miss Riley. Dr. Cross is ready to see you now.” My forehead furrows, still lost in the fantasy that stars the lips and hands of the man standing in front of me.

  “Miss Riley? If you’re ready?” A woman’s voice breaks the spell, and I land firmly back in the waiting room of The Clark Practice. Amanda Cross stands to my side with a smile on her face, indicating I should follow her.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you.” I pick up my bag and head towards the consultation rooms. I hope I don’t look as flustered as I feel.

  I follow as Dr. Cross leads the way down the corridor and enters a warmly lit room. She shows me to the sofa. I take off my coat and take a few deep breaths.

  “I’m sorry I was running late. I see you’ve already filled in the patient start up information. So, Miss Riley.”

  “Jess, please. And it’s fine, really.”