Sacrifice
of the Pawn
Surrender
Games Book 1
by
Lydia Michaels
Genre:
Adult Contemporary Romance
Surrender
Games follows the emotionally charged and highly erotic contemporary
romance saga, The Surrender Trilogy.
Isadora
Patras has sacrificed years raising her younger siblings, Lucian and
Antoinette. As her brother and sister grow more independent, she
feels her purpose is lost. Aching to do something selfish and hungry
for a taste of the forbidden, she takes a lover—her father’s
protégé and trusted family friend, Sawyer Bishop.
In
a secret affair trust is tested, respect is bartered, and reputations
are on the line. Sawyer has always been Isadora’s mentor, but now
it’s her move. She’s through being a pawn and ready to demand the
respect of a Queen.
The
Surrender Games Series should be read after The Surrender Trilogy.
Goodreads
* Amazon
Unsure what to make of the shift in energy,
she collected her glass from the bar to buy time, but something was definitely
different, and she didn’t understand why.
“Is something wrong, Sawyer?”
His gaze followed her as she came to sit on
the empty side of the settee. “When did you stop calling me Mr. Bishop?”
The soft, cajoling rumble of his voice was
more soothing than probing. Voices like that could make audio instructions
sound like Shakespeare.
Thinking over his question, her brow
tightened. “I’m not sure. I suppose I was a teenager when you invited me to
call you by your first name. Should I go back to calling you Mr. Bishop?” she
teased. It seemed silly to think of him as anything other than Sawyer.
Turning his wrist, the ice in his glass
shifted. “The boys … they’ve be friends for a long time.”
“And hopefully they will be forever.”
“And I’ve been your father’s friend for as
long as I can recall. He gave me a job when I was fresh out of college.”
“And now you run one of his companies. What is
it you’re trying to say, Sawyer?”
“You’re very young, Isadora. Too young to have
a boy in college and a ten-year-old in your care, but you do it with the
maturity of an experienced woman.”
“Thank you, but Lucian’s my brother, not my
son. And Toni… I may act like her mother, but I’m not. I take no joy in erasing
our mother’s memory.”
He glanced at his empty glass, the filtered
moonlight reflecting in the crystal as he placed it on the table. “I should
go.”
Tipping her glass over his, she filled it with
a finger of scotch. “Not before you finish your drink.”
Peering through thick, black lashes, he gave
her a questioning look that made her feel immediately foolish. Why had she done
that?
He twisted to face her. “What are you doing,
Isadora?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had a lot to drink.” Her
voice dropped to a rasp as her gaze latched onto his, holding so tight she
could hardly spare a blink.
“Is that it then?”
Her lashes fluttered, breaking the spell, and
she laughed nervously. Those eyes were hypnotic, especially when he looked
directly into hers. She shook her head, shaking off the affect. “Is that what?”
Lifting his glass, he finished her offering in
one swallow, placed the tumbler on the table, and stood. She rose as well, the
camaraderie they’d shared earlier rapidly evaporating. Perhaps thirty-seven
wasn’t such a good year.
Tension closed in on her, its impending
heaviness puncturing the inebriated haze cocooning her mind. The unfamiliar
imbalance was more than the effect of alcohol. Maybe she was coming down with
something.
She didn’t want him to go and his proximity to
the door filled her with panic and heat. Stay,
she wanted to say, but something kept her quiet. She wanted him to make the
decision without her prompting his response.
It became a game of guessing what he might do
or say next and she liked the uncertainty, found it unsteadily thrilling. Her
heart beat too fast as she tried to identify a time she’d ever felt so nervous
in such a fulfilling way. She didn’t typically favor anxiety, yet she coveted
the feeling now, a dark anticipation for every motion, every word. So much to
lose in such a simple decision, yet she hadn’t a clue what she’d gain if he
chose to stay.
“I apologize for intruding on your evening,”
he said, stepping around the table.
Her heart jerked. Her disappointment was a
physical jolt that convinced her something else was happening here—something
she shouldn’t feel.
She stepped around the other side of the
coffee table and met him on the carpet, frantic to keep him there a while
longer. She didn’t want to be alone, but maybe he was feeling this strange
energy too and figured it best to leave.
“Sawyer, what changed?”
“The fact that you don’t know is a testament
to your young age.”
Affronted, she drew back. Perhaps she was a
bad drunk, because his words hurt more than they probably should.
She wasn’t an idiot and though she didn’t have
much experience with men like Sawyer—or any men for that matter—she wasn’t a
prude. Something changed between them tonight. A sort of chemistry had evolved.
She never felt this kind of attraction around
him before and maybe he felt it too and that was why he was trying to escape.
But she was drunk, so perhaps her perception
was off.
Rather than further embarrass herself, she
stepped aside. “I’m sorry if I did something to offend you.”
Gah! She always said the worst things. What was she trying to get, a
sympathy stay? That was not what she was after.
“You did nothing offensive. It’s just … not
appropriate for me to be here—alone with you. It’s late.”
Embarrassed that her eagerness reeked of
inexperience, she looked away. She shouldn’t let him see her like this. She’d
have to see him again and it was utterly humiliating to think he might assume
she was some sad, desperate woman trying to seduce her father’s colleague when
she just wanted a little company. Oh, God, she was desperate.
Her gaze dropped to the carpet as a dark sense
of inadequacy swallowed her. “I understand. I didn’t mean to…” …whatever I’ve done.
“Goodnight, Isadora.”
She didn’t look up to see if he was staring at
her. She didn’t need to. She could feel his stare measuring her. He hesitated
as he approached the door.
“You’ll call if you need anything?” he asked
softly.
Never. “Of course.”
With nothing more to say, he left, his
leather-soled footfalls drifting almost silently as he made his way to the
foyer.
Humiliated, she turned to the bar and lifted
the expensive bottle. No matter how much her life resembled that of an adult,
she never stopped feeling apart from the actual authority figures. A little
girl with a license to leave the kiddie table for one meal before an early
bedtime.
Rethinking the last couple hours and degrading
herself for every unflattering impression she might have left, she wished
desperately to erase the entire evening. She was not on his level and he saw
her as his colleague’s pathetic kid who was astoundingly short on friends.
Collecting the glasses filled with watered
down ice, she decided not to return to her father’s study anymore. Every time
she left this room she felt like half a person—tonight more so than usual.
She dumped the ice in the sink at the wet bar
and sat the glasses on the counter. “What a waste.”
The door to the office creaked and she
pivoted, gasping as she found him still there and staring at her from the
threshold.
“My…” He shook his head, brow tense with lines
of tension. “I forgot my jacket.”
Her chest tightened as she blinked at him in
question. His jacket was behind her, yet she lacked the will to move.
Was he really back for his jacket? Had he left
it there on purpose? He watched her, keeping his distance, like she was some
sort of black widow. She mentally laughed. She was about as threatening as a
baby bunny.
Putting her back to the bar, she gave him room
to get his belongings and go. Reaching past her, he slid the jacket off the
back of the chair and stilled, close enough for her to see the contrast of
silver threaded in the dark hair at his temples.
Her skin tingled as breath locked in her lungs,
his scent crawling into her. A million moments she shouldhave
had collided in her mind, borrowed memories from novels and cinematic romances
and what she knew most girls experienced years before approaching her actual
age.
His arm brushed the front of her blouse and
his eyes shut on a whispered curse. Every breath she took tightened her
clothing. She was winded, yet standing perfectly still.
“Tell me to go. Tell me to forget the jacket,”
he whispered, voice low as it scratched along her every tender nerve.
She said nothing and he let the jacket slide
down the chair and onto the floor. She couldn’t blink and she began to tremble
subtly as he turned to fully face her, staring into her eyes.
Each inhalation lifted her breasts higher. Her
lips parted, the scent of expensive scotch, rich cologne, and sin clouding her
mind. She wasn’t a small woman. Thin, yes, but too tall. Yet, looking up at him
now, she found her height perfect, and his stature arrestingly right. Strong.
“Tell me to go, Isadora,” he repeated, voice
rasping in a way that prickled the back of her neck, seeming to lift the fine
hairs along her collar.
There was something more than drunken secrets
here. She edged closer, never one to act audaciously, but maybe this was the
self-indulgent moment she’d been waiting for. Brazen seemed right.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she softly
whispered, “I didn’t want you to leave in the first place.”
Uttering another curse, he reached for her so
fast she took a startled step back, only to be blocked by the bar. His hand
swept into her hair, fingers terrorizing her sensible bun, as he jerked her
body to his on a gasp. His aggression was as unexpected as his intensity. The
shocking press of his lips was a welcome delight. Warm. Unquestioning.
Experienced.
His other hand surged low on her back, pulling
her body flush to his as their heads tilted and his mouth opened against hers.
Heat swirled low in her belly as her hands sought a place to rest.
A fever took hold, burning hot, as her
knuckles flexed and her fingers dug into his broad shoulders. The distant thud
of the bottle hitting the carpet only vaguely registered, as he spun her and
backed her toward the desk.
His mouth opened wider, his tongue spearing
between her lips, greedily taking as he dipped her over the surface, arching
her backwards and exposing her neck. The five o’clock shadow covering his jaw
scraped over her delicate skin, making her toes curl.
He lifted her and objects moved along the
desk, the lamp light jostling in the shadows. Her knees drew up as a chair
skidded out of the way. He towered over her, kissing, licking, biting. And her body was on fire.
Objects clattered to the ground as his touch
dragged up her leg, hiking her simple pencil skirt higher. The bunched material
gave way, sliding as high as her hips when he fit his legs between hers.
The weight of his arousal pressed against her
core. She gasped and everything stilled.
His heavy breathing mingled with hers as his
stormy eyes flashed in the light shining from the desk lamp. She’d never been
in such a tangle. They were so close it was difficult to determine whose parts
were whose.
“Shit.” He made to rise, but her grip on his
shirt tightened. “Isadora,” he rasped, almost pleadingly.
Hating the regret she recognized in his gaze,
she almost let him go. Almost.
She could do this—they could
do this. Who would know? They were both adults.
Lifting her head, she gently brushed her lips
against his. Shockingly, it seemed enough to hold him there. His mouth tilted
over hers, pulling, slowly taunting, until everything inside of her seemed to
stretch like warm taffy and melt her body into his. The tension left his
shoulders as his weight sank into her.
His hand followed the curve of her hip,
tracing the nip of her waist and un-tucking her blouse one ripple of fabric at
a time. His warm fingertips scorched the hidden skin of her belly, skimming
over her ribs with practiced ease. Her body arched as the swell of her breast
filled his palm and her lips parted on a sigh.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered, his
thumb tracing delicate swirls over the hardening tip of her nipple.
There was no way she was letting him leave
now. The press of his arousal was leaving her panties slick and his hand was
working some sort of magic under her blouse.
“Yell at me, Isadora. Tell me to stop, to take
my hands off you.”
“Stop fighting it, Sawyer.” She loosened the
top button of her blouse. And another. And then another.
He eased back as the silk parted. He looked at
her as no man ever had. “Jesus. You’re beautiful.”
Blinking, he stood and gently pulled her with
him. Leaving her shirt open she quickly straightened her skirt.
His attention drifted around the room and he
grimaced. “Your bed—”
“Is upstairs. Too close to my sister’s room.
Here’s fine.”
His mouth pursed. He didn’t seem pleased with
the options.
Releasing her hand, he shut the door tightly
and turned the antique key sitting in the lock.
To read on, please download your copy of
Sacrifice of the Pawn here.
Queen
of the Knight
Surrender
Games Book 2
The
game has changed and no player’s position is safe…
In
a world of power, money, deceit, and lust, no player is exactly how
they seem. Love and trust are at stake when the game is changed and
old enemies come out of hiding, disguised as friends.
Isadora
Patras must proceed wisely. After thirteen years of heartbreak and
denial, she no longer trusts her instincts. One man embodies her
past, the other could be her future, but which one holds her heart?
Isadora must choose between her family and two very different men.
Either way, her choice could cost her everything.
In
a game of kings, bishops, rooks, and knights there are no guarantees.
But if Isadora wants to be a Queen, someone will have to lose.
The
Surrender Games Series should be read after The Surrender Trilogy.
The Surrender
Trilogy was released in 2013. It was an Apple iBooks
Bestseller. Surrender Games is a spin-off of The
Surrender Trilogy. It is a series that features the side characters
of the trilogy and will eventually deliver each hero and heroine’s
HEA.
It is highly
recommended that readers read The Surrender
Trilogy BEFORE reading Surrender Games.
Falling
In
The
Surrender Trilogy Book 1
Breaking
Out
The
Surrender Games Trilogy Book 2
Coming
Home
The
Surrender Games Trilogy Book 3
Lydia
Michaels is an award winning author of over 30 contemporary romance
novels. She lives in Pennsylvania with her wonderfully supportive
husband, beautiful daughter, and many crazy fur babies. If she is not
off spending time with her family you can usually find Lydia at her
computer working on her next story or hiding somewhere quiet with a
great book. She loves taking a romantic plot with steamy chemistry
and pressing the bounds of love. Her books are intellectual, erotic,
haunting, always centered on love.
Lydia Michaels' darkly
compelling Surrender Trilogy was an Apple iBooks bestseller and she
has been featured in USA Today. In 2015 she was the winner of The
Best of Bucks Award and she has been nominated as Best Author in the
Bucks Happening Magazine three years running [2015, 2016, and 2017].
She is a four time nominee for the prestigious RONE Award.
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