Sacrifice of the Pawn (Surrender Game 1)

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 didnt 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. Im 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 theyve be friends for a long time.
And hopefully they will be forever.
And Ive been your fathers 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 youre trying to say, Sawyer?
Youre 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 Lucians my brother, not my son. And Toni I may act like her mother, but Im not. I
take no joy in erasing our mothers 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 dont know. Ive 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 theyd shared earlier rapidly evaporating. Perhaps thirty-seven
wasnt 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 didnt 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 shed ever felt so nervous in
such a fulfilling way. She didnt 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 hadnt a
clue what shed 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 heresomething she shouldnt 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 didnt 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 dont 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 wasnt an idiot and though she didnt have much experience with men like Sawyeror any men
for that mattershe wasnt 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. Im 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. Its just not appropriate for me to be herealone with you. Its late.
Embarrassed that her eagerness reeked of inexperience, she looked away. She shouldnt let him see
her like this. Shed 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 fathers 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 didnt
mean to whatever Ive done.
Goodnight, Isadora.
She didnt look up to see if he was staring at her. She didnt need to. She could feel his stare measuring
her. He hesitated as he approached the door.
Youll 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 colleagues pathetic kid who was astoundingly short on friends.
Collecting the glasses filled with watered down ice, she decided not to return to her fathers study
anymore. Every time she left this room she felt like half a persontonight 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 couldnt 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 wasnt 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 shed been waiting for. Brazen seemed right.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she softly whispered, I didnt 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 oclock 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. Shed 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 thisthey 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 shouldnt 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. Youre 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 sisters room. Heres fine.
His mouth pursed. He didnt 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.