Page 17 of Surrender to Me

I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “I know.”

We talked for a few more minutes and then she made me promise to keep her updated before I went back to my shower. Finally leaving the bathroom, I lightly moisturized and slipped into a two-piece pajama set and before I knew it, I was out like a light.

Ismelled dinner before I saw it—the rich, mouthwatering scent of butter, garlic, and something perfectly seasoned floating through the air, wrapping around me like a warm promise when I woke up. The sun was setting, casting a pink and orange hue over Legend’s bedroom.

Yawning, I stretched and then followed my nose. When I stepped into the kitchen, he was already there. Standing at the stove, his muscular back to me, he was barefoot in basketball shorts and a white wife beater. I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

“You really do cook, huh?”

Legend glanced over his shoulder, smirking as he lifted a glass of something amber to his lips. “I told you.”

I pushed off the doorframe, walking over to the counter. “What’s on the menu?”

“Steak,” he said smoothly, flipping two perfectly seared ribeyes in the pan, the scent of butter hitting the air immediately. “Lobster tails. Grilled asparagus.”

I raised a brow, leaning against the counter. “Well, damn. Check you out. Mama ain’t raise no fool.”

“Hell nah.” He set the steak onto a plate, reaching for the lobster tails next, brushing them with melted butter before sliding them into the oven. “Besides, when was the last time you had a nigga cook for you?”

I tilted my head, watching him. “Never. I don’t think Ramen counts.” We shared a laugh as he shook his head.

“Exactly,” he countered. “So, enjoythisso I can enjoyyou.” His smirk was lazy, teasing. A slow shiver rippled down my spine, but I forced myself to focus on something else. Like the way his hands moved, precise and controlled, like he knew exactly what he was doing—whether it was in the kitchen, the bedroom, or a damn boardroom.

“Can I help with anything?” I asked.

Legend side-eyed me like I had just suggested something outrageous. “For real?”

“Hey, I know my way around a kitchen.”

Legend leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking fully amused. “Oh yeah? What’s your specialty?”

I pursed my lips, thinking. “I make a mean avocado toast.”

“Get the fuck outta here,” Legend laughed. A real, deep, rich sound that sent something warm through my chest. "Sit down, sweetheart. I got it.”

By the time he plated everything and carried it to the dining table, I was damn near starving. The steak was cooked to perfection, the lobster tails drenched in garlic butter, the asparagus slightly charred, still crisp.

My mouth watered just looking at it. “You do this often?” I asked, picking up my fork as he settled across from me.

Legend poured two glasses of red wine before answering. “What? Cook?”

“Cook for someone,” I clarified, lifting a brow.

His dark gaze met mine, sharp and unreadable. “Not really.”

I swallowed a bite of steak, holding his gaze. “So, why now?”

He smirked, swirling his wine glass before taking a sip. “Because I wanted to.” I waited, expecting him to say more, to give me something, but he didn’t. That was Legend in a nutshell. I took a sip of wine, letting the silence stretch. After a moment, he set his glass down, tilting his head slightly. “You always overthink shit?”

I scoffed. “I like to analyze.”

Legend smirked. “That’s a polite way of saying you like to control shit.”

I set my fork down, shifting in my seat. “And what’s wrong with that?”

Legend leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his dark eyes pinning me in place. “Nothing,” he murmured, his lips curled at the edges but his gaze didn’t waver. “I think you’ve been in survival mode for so long, you don’t know what it feels like to just… be.”

I inhaled sharply, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass. He was right again. I grew up in survival mode bouncing from different family members' houses because my mom couldn’t keep her shit together. And then, one day, she gave up. Gavemeup. I lived with my grandmother and a boatload of my cousins. Fighting for survival. Fighting to just be me. And then, as I got older, that survival mode never switched off.

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