Page 11 of Surrender Your Heart (Surrender #2)

I woke up to the soft vibration of my phone dancing across the nightstand, eyes still heavy, thighs still trembling from the night before.

My body was humming, every nerve ending sore in the best way, my pussy and ass pulsing like it had been claimed, branded.

Broken in and worshiped at the same damn time.

I blinked through the early sunlight pouring in from the huge villa windows, groaned low, then reached over and grabbed my phone.

Bestie Calling…

I smiled and answered, voice thick and scratchy. “What?”

Tyrae’s voice damn near exploded through the speaker.

“Damn bitch! Still in bed? Is he alive? Are YOU alive?!”

I laughed. “Barely.”

“Oh, he really put that Legendary dick on you, huh? You sound like you seen God.”

I rolled over, clutching the covers, my legs still open.

“I’m weak as hell.

Can’t feel my legs.

I think I levitated.”

“I hate you,”

she said with a cackle.

“What’s the plan today? More nasty shit or y’all actually gon’ see the island?”

“I honestly don’t know all of the details yet.

Let me call you back, I gotta pee and I smell food.”

“Okayyy, make sure it’s food and not his dick on a pl—”

I hung up mid-sentence and tossed the phone to the side, grinning.

The smell of something savory and damn near sinful drifted through the air: eggs, cinnamon, butter, something sweet.

I slipped out of bed, toes curling against the cool marble floor, and grabbed my silk robe, tying it loosely around me.

Walking barefoot through the villa felt surreal again, like I’d slipped into some kind of ultra-luxe dream I didn’t want to wake up from.

My body still throbbed with the echo of Legend’s hands, his tongue, his everything.

I turned the corner into the open kitchen and stopped.

My pussy thumped.

Legend was standing there… naked.

Nothing but skin, tattoos, and a hard, carved-from-marble back. Shoulders broad. Calves defined. His dick banging heavy and unapologetic. A kitchen towel slung over one shoulder as he flipped golden brown French toast on a hot skillet.

He didn’t look over his shoulder.

Just said low and steady, “Take the shit off, sweetheart.”

My breath caught.

Dejavu.

The way he demanded it…calm, quiet, and confident…like he knew the shit would make me melt. I untied the robe and let it fall. He finally turned. His eyes dragged over me slowly. Possessive. Hungry. He licked his bottom lip and nodded once.

“Morning,”

I whispered, folding my arms, suddenly shy even though he’d had me on all fours last night.

“Morning, baby,”

he said, voice deep as ever.

“Ass on that stool.

Breakfast is almost done.”

I sat, skin bare against the cool leather, and watched him move effortlessly, that dick swinging between thick thighs.

He plated the food and set it in front of me—French toast, cheesy eggs, bacon, fruit, and mimosas already poured.

We ate for a moment in silence. The tension between us was soft but still electric.

“Okay, so now I really wanna know.

Who taught you to cook like this?”

I finally asked, tearing into the toast.

He smirked, sipping his mimosa.

“My grandmother.

Said no woman should ever feed me better than I feed myself.”

“Mmm.

I like her.”

“She would’ve liked you too.”

I paused mid-bite.

“Oh… I’m sorry.

I...

lost my grandmother years back. Auntie too.”

“Death is a part of life, sweetheart.”

We talked lightly after that about music, a funny story from his childhood, and a moment from my store when I cursed out a supplier on Zoom.

Then I leaned back and looked at him.

“So… Devyn.”

He met my gaze, his smirk slipping just a little.

“What about her?”

“What’s her deal? Is she an ex?”

He exhaled through his nose.

“We met years ago at a gala in Atlanta.

Same setup—a business weekend.

I gave her an opportunity, and she fumbled it.”

“Fumbled how?”

“Let’s just say she didn’t live up to the expectation.

She wasn’t you.”

I tilted my head.

And suddenly, I was back in that villa last year, tension wrapped tight around our words.

“Why aren’t you taken?” I asked.

“Because I don’t belong to anyone.”

“That’s a cop-out answer.”

“Is it?”

he challenged, eyes dancing with amusement, like he knew shit I hadn’t even started unpacking yet.

I narrowed my gaze.

“You don’t believe in love?”

“I believe in control,”

Legend said, cool and deliberate.

“And love, the way most people define it, is uncontrollable.”

I frowned, unsettled in a way I couldn’t name.

“So you’ve never been in love?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,”

he admitted.

“That’s sad.”

He chuckled.

“That’s survival.”

Even now, it echoed.

Hit a little different.

Especially after everything we’d done, said, and become. I was seeing him in a new light, but that same shadow from before still lingered. Was he capable of giving more… or just more control?

“You in your head again?”

His voice pulled me out of the memory, rough and close.

He was already beside me, hands gripping my waist, mouth warm and wet against my neck, his breath skating across my skin like it belonged there.

“Mmhmm,”

I murmured, tilting slightly as his tongue traced the curve of my throat.

“Come back to me,”

he said lowly, sucking lightly until I shivered.

“I’m here,”

I whispered, trying to mask the swirl in my chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at me.

“Nobody’s ever gotten this version of me, ,”

he said, voice velvet with just the right edge of warning.

“Enjoy it.”

The air thickened as my breath stalled.

This wasn’t some cute, flirty reassurance.

It was a fact. A declaration. Legend pulled me in slowly, his lips grazing mine before claiming them deep, firm. One hand slid up my back, anchoring me. The other gripped my thigh, fingers brushing just where the silk ended and skin began. I melted into him, and when he walked away after, leaving me there breathless and tingly like he hadn’t just said what he said.

I sat for another minute, touching my lips, body still sore in the best way, then finally stood and went back into the bedroom to get myself together.

I ran my fingers over the hangers in the closet until I found the perfect swimsuit.

Grown, sexy, and soft but bold. Just like me.

After showering and moisturizing, I slipped into a yellow bikini and cover-up with Fendi sandals and heard his voice through the cracked bedroom door.

He was on the phone.

“I don’t care what he said.

If the numbers don’t reflect what we discussed, pull the fucking plug.”

I froze, hand mid-way through brushing out my curls.

His tone was sharp.

“Nah, I’m not giving that opportunity twice.”

Silence, then: “Make the call.

Loop me in after the paperwork’s drafted.

Don’t keep me waiting.”

Click.

Goosebumps rippled across my skin.

It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it.

That quiet power. That calm that always came with a warning. It was giving rich, ruthless, and unbothered. The kind of man who never had to raise his voice to be obeyed. I didn’t even realize I was clenching my thighs together.

And then he stepped into the doorway...

whew.

I almost lost my breath. The man looked good in anything, and the navy swim trunks he had on showed off that godly print. Designer slides with ankle socks. Gold watch. Cuban link. Dark shades pushed up on his head. God seriously took his time.

“Damn,”

I exhaled before I could help it.

He smirked, dragging his eyes across my body in that slow, intense way that made my stomach flip.

“You wearing the fuck outta that,”

he said, stepping closer.

“But you knew that already.”

I turned slightly in the mirror.

“Just trying to keep up with you.”

He stepped behind me, big hands sliding around my waist.

“You ain’t gotta keep up.

Just stay right here with me.”

He dipped down and kissed the back of my shoulder.

I swear my knees went soft.

He held my gaze a second longer, then smacked my ass once—hard enough to sting, soft enough to make me moan—and turned toward the door.

“Five minutes.

Yacht’s waiting.”

I swallowed hard, watching him walk away.

Damn.

This man really was different.