Dare to Surrender (34 page)

He’d said so.

“Come here,” she said, spreading her legs wide.

He rolled on a condom and then climbed on top of her, settling right between her thighs.

“Make love to me, Ash.”

He held his head a few inches above hers and locked his gaze onto hers.

“Yes, baby. Anything you want.”

Cupping her breast in the palm of his hand, he kissed her so gently it was like a whisper on her skin. It was nearly unbelievable
that this sensitive lover was the same dominant man who’d held a cane in his hand moments ago.

He continued to kiss her breasts, her ribs. She trembled beneath his touch, and when he again pressed his lips to hers, she
welcomed him.

She explored his mouth with her tongue, thinking she could kiss him forever.

But there was a pulsing need between her legs, and she needed to feel him in her, needed to be one with him.

“Ash,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Oh, Joy.” She felt him tilt his hips back, and in one solid move, he entered her. Hard and deep and solid. She arched her
neck as her body welcomed him. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so complete. He leaned down to kiss that place below
her ear, so softly and tenderly she gasped.

She spread her legs wider and bent her knees, tilting her pelvis so she could feel him as much as possible. He lifted his
head to look at her, and their gazes were still fixed on each other as he pulled out and drove into her again.

“Ash, oh…”

He pulled out, slowly, and entered her once again.

“Joy, my Joy.”

“Yes, yours,” she breathed as he continued the lovely, slow rhythm of making love to her.

“Come for me, sweetheart. I want to watch your face as you come.”

“Yes.” Staring sightlessly, she clung to him as wave after wave of tremors rocked through her.

He kissed her back to earth and then drove into her three more times. She traced her fingers down his back, and then she felt
his own orgasm pulsing inside her.

“That’s it, honey,” she whispered, holding him close. She could feel his heart pounding hard against her own.

When they came back down, he rolled off her and lay on his back, pulling her against him. She could hear his heart still hammering
in his chest. Idly, she drew circles around his nipple with her fingertip.

She bit her lip. Yeah, the evening had been amazing, but what did it mean?

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?”

She continued to draw on his chest and tried to sound casual. “So… does this mean we’re, um…” She swallowed. “Boyfriend and
girlfriend?”

“Is that what you want it to mean?” She wasn’t sure, but she swore he held his breath.

“Yes,” she said in a tiny, insecure voice.

He exhaled. “Good. Because so do I. But, Joy?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s one thing I’m going to demand if we’re going to be together.”

Her heart stopped. “What?” She didn’t want to give up her career or her friends or her freedom. Is that what Ash would want?

“I’m not sure you’re going to like it….”

“What is it?” she demanded, resting on one elbow and staring down at him.

“Well…”

“Ash, what is it?”

“You’re going to learn how to change a tire,” he said with a grin.

She punched his shoulder—his good shoulder. “You asshole.”

“I love it when you call me names.”

“Good. Because I have a lifetime’s worth to use up.”

He brought her down for a kiss. “That’s what I was hoping, baby. That’s exactly what I was hoping.”

One year later.

J
oy gazed around the crowded space with a sense of pride she’d never experienced. Tonight was the grand opening of the Montgomery-Hunter
Gallery, and she couldn’t believe the amazing response they’d had so far. She could hardly believe the massive turnout that
had shown up for tonight’s reception.

Ben, the graffiti artist who was actually named Ben, came up to her, his eyes sparkling with excitement. She knew he could
hardly believe it, either. She’d already sold five of his canvases, and the city wanted to commission him to do a mural near
the Embarcadero. He looked like he was over the moon.

“Joy,” he said. “See that dude over there?”

She glanced at a tall man in a suit who happened to own the biggest winery in Napa. “Yes.”

“He said he wanted to buy three pieces for his tasting room!”

“That’s wonderful. I’ll be sure to speak with him later. Can’t be too eager, you know.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” he said with a smile. He’d been wary at first, but now he treated Joy as if she were some kind of
god. She wasn’t; she just believed in him as an artist, and everything else fell into place. Smiling, she watched Ben turn
to speak with yet another admirer.

“You look stunning tonight,” a voice whispered in her ear.

A shiver went through her as she felt Ash press up against her back. Over the past year, she’d only grown to love him more
each day, and she had also discovered she loved working with him.

After she’d quit her job, they’d decided to open this gallery. Refusing to let her pay for everything, Ash had even dipped
into his sacred savings account, a huge feat for him. He’d turned down any more security jobs in Iraq—thank God—to continue
his art. After the übersuccessful show at the Cartwright Gallery, Joy had finally persuaded him to keep taking photographs
and creating sculpture, and then, when she’d decided to open her own gallery, she asked him to be her partner. It had worked
out perfectly. Ash was incredibly organized and took care of all the paperwork. Joy concentrated on finding new artists and
selling their work. Their East Side gallery was doing phenomenally well.

Even her grandmother had to admit Joy had done something right. Eventually Ash had won the old lady over, and she’d even helped
out by giving a large donation to the gallery. Now, Joy had to smile as she watched the older woman sitting in a chair on
the other side of the room, chatting with a gentleman Joy knew to be one of the wealthier landowners in the Bay Area. Of course,
Grandmother would know this, and the fact that Joy had such important clientele at her opening would be impressive even to
Miriam.

In fact, there were a few eligible men in the room. Ash’s mother smiled up at one of San Francisco’s premier restaurant entrepreneurs,
and Joy had to smile herself. The woman seemed ten years younger than when she’d first met her, and Joy knew Ash was finally
realizing his family didn’t need one hundred percent of his support.

His sister had proven more than capable of supporting herself. She’d come with her mother and was positively beaming as she
gazed around a room filled with her brother’s artwork.

Next her gaze fell on Erica and Blaine, huddled together in a corner. They could barely keep their hands off each other. Joy
couldn’t help but feel a bit smug as she watched them. Challenging her that night in the bar had been the best thing Joy had
ever done. For both of them.

Erica had even come to like some of Blaine’s friends, and a few of them mingled in the crowd. Joy noticed they were actually
the rowdier of the bunch and could really suck back the champagne. Good. She wanted tonight to be fun as well as successful.

She leaned back against Ash. “I’m glad you like my outfit.” She’d gone for elegant chic tonight and wore a pair of black slacks
and a black-and-white silk blouse that tied at her neck. She still wore flats, but thanks to Ruby, they were
designer
flats, so it was, apparently, okay. Of course, at her throat hung the marble sparrow that Ash had given her on her thirtieth
birthday. She rarely took it off.

“Well,” Ash said. “I guess I better make a toast and thank everyone for coming.”

“Good idea.” She took two glasses of champagne from a waiter’s tray and handed one to Ash. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

He gave her one last kiss and then went to the front of the gallery and climbed onto a chair.

“Can I have your attention, please,” he said, and slowly the conversation echoing throughout the room faded as all eyes turned
to Ash.

“Joy and I want to thank you all for coming tonight. We truly appreciate the response we’ve had from you, and I know it fills
Joy’s heart with, well, joy,” he said, and smiled as a soft chuckle came from the crowd. His gaze was on hers as he continued.
“I know it fills her heart to see such a positive response to art. Promoting art is one of her passions, and we thank you
for your support.” He lifted his glass. “To art.”

After everyone in the room tilted their glasses of champagne to their lips, Ash sharpened his gaze on hers. “I would also
like to say something special to my partner in more than one way, my girlfriend, Joy. Or, if she answers the next question
positively, my fiancée.”

Joy spit out the champagne she’d just sipped, barely missing the bald head of one of Blaine’s lawyer friends. Her heart started
to race; had she heard Ash right?

He jumped off the chair and made his way toward her. She watched him, totally frozen to her spot, as he closed in on her.
Then, when he was just a couple of feet in front of her, he bent down on one knee. He pulled something out of his pocket,
and she put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

He held up a piece of marble, sculpted into the shape of a ring. “Joy Montgomery. Will you marry me?”

She felt tears pricking at her eyes, and though her throat was achingly tight, she managed to say, “With one condition.”

“What?” he said, his eyes sparkling. He knew her too well, knew she couldn’t say no to him.

“You’ll never make me change my own tire.”

His mouth broke into a grin. “Fine. You have a deal.”

“Then give me that ring.”

He took her hand and slid the delicate marble band onto her ring finger. She held up her hand and saw that, instead of a diamond,
he’d carved a rose into the top of the ring. Surrounding the delicate flower were both their names.

“I love it,” she said, her throat tight.

“I love you, Joy.”

“Then kiss me.”

He got to his feet and he did. Every day for the rest of their lives.

Where authors give you the inside scoop!

From the desk of Larissa Ione

Dear Reader,

“Family” is a word that means something different to everyone. Your family might consist of those who were born into it, or
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When Idess, an angel bent on thwarting Lore’s mission to kill someone close to his brothers, begins to fall for the coldhearted
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Fortunately, “family” can also be a source of hope, and with Idess’s help, Lore may yet find the family he gave up hoping
for so long ago.

For more about the Demonica world and the families that make it come alive, please visit my Web site at
www.LarissaIone.com
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