by J. S. Cooper
Mr. Right
J. S. Cooper
Contents
Untitled
Untitled
Untitled
Untitled
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Mr. Right
J. S. Cooper
THANK YOU FOR PURCHASING A J. S. COOPER BOOK.
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New Standalone Book from New York Times Bestselling Author J. S. Cooper.
Some nights are meant to remain a secret. Some nights are meant to be for fun. Some nights are meant to last just one night. It was never supposed to happen. But, we couldn’t stop ourselves.
One night became too many. He was the one man I wasn’t supposed to want. The one man I wasn’t supposed to have. The one man that could never possibly be my Mr. Right. However he’s the one man I can’t get out of my mind. He’s the one man that’s going to change everything.
Only he has a secret that’s bigger than everything else. He has a secret that could ruin everything.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2016 by J. S. Cooper
Editing by Lorelei Logsdon
Proofreading by Proofingstyle
This book is dedicated to all the women that are looking for their Mr. Right’s. Never give up hope that he is out there.
Acknowledgments
Mr. Right is a book that was written from my heart. I would like to thank the following people for all of their help as I wrote this book. Thanks go out to Katrina Jaekley, Tanya Kay Skaggs, Stacy Hahn, Laci Keenzel, Chanteal Justice, Pam Snell, Cilicia White, Barbara Goodwin, Kristina Hammock, Kathy Shreve, Ashley Hedden, Kristine Roller, Jean, Regan Brown, Karen Gonzalez, Carrie Renteria, Elizabeth He, the SF Writers in their 20’s and 30’s meet-up group, and God.
Prologue
There are ten things you should know about me:
I’m not a bad guy.
I was attracted to her the moment I saw her.
I love to tease her.
I knew I was playing with fire.
I knew she didn’t know the truth.
I didn’t care.
A part of me was excited by the danger.
I knew the sex would be amazing.
I didn’t want to be her Mr. Right.
I knew everything would end in fireworks.
I have a secret. A big secret. A bigger secret than she initially thinks. It’s so big that I think I’m going to have to take back the first thing you know about me. The I’m not a bad guy comment. I’m not so sure that’s true. Maybe I’m a little bad. Or maybe I’m a lot bad. Maybe I just don’t know anymore. There’s a part of me that wishes I could change everything. I know she loves me because she thinks I’m perfect. I know I love her because I know she’s imperfect. I’m just not sure what’s going to happen when she finds out the truth. I’m not sure what’s going to happen when she realizes exactly how twisted this all really is.
Introduction
PART I
Chapter 1
Jess
Hot damn, there’s a warm body pressing into me from behind. And—whoa—I think that whoever’s behind me is very happy I’m awake, if the hardness pushing into my butt is any indication. Shit, my eyes are blinking rapidly as I think back to the previous night. Too many cocktails. And then those glasses of wine. And the two beers. What was I thinking? Oh, shit. I froze as my mind immediately remembered him sliding into me, deep and hard. I can picture his intense eyes, his loud growls as he’d slammed into me. Oh, fuck, what had I done?
“Morning, Jess,” he whispered into my ear as his hand slid around to grab my breast. “Ready for round two?” He pinched my nipple and I moaned and closed my eyes. I was a horrible person. I couldn’t believe I was here in bed with him. I couldn’t believe we’d had sex. Shit, I couldn’t believe we were going to have sex again. I was a bad, bad girl for having slept with him. But fuck it, what was the point of resisting round two when there had already been a round one? I’d pay for my sins later. What was done was done. We’d already crossed the line of no return.
* * *
I need to start at the beginning. I’m not a bad person. Though I’m not a good person either, obviously. I mean, look who I slept with? I’m not going to tell you yet. I don’t want you to judge me and think I’m horrible. I’m not horrible. Really? I’m pretty nice. I mean, I think I’m even pretty cool, in a “I slept with someone I shouldn’t have and kind of regret it” way. I’ve got most of my shit together. I’m a good friend. I’m a hard worker. I try and help poor people. That shouldn’t all be invalidated because I did one bad thing, right? So yeah, sue me, I slept with someone I shouldn’t have. But really, how could I say no? He’s hot, sexy, over six foot, chiseled chest, sexy dimples, lush dark hair and he has hands that seem to know my body better than I do. But sorry, I’m getting distracted. I said I’d start at the beginning. So I will. Maybe you’ll understand how hard it was for me to say no once you understand the situation I was in. I mean damn, I’m not sure many women would have been able to resist. How do you say no to the sexiest man alive? But like I said, I’ll start at the beginning.
My name is Jess. Just Jess is what my friends call me. I’m not sure why. It’s not like it says anything about me. Well, nothing exciting. I guess it does say that I’m just a regular easy-going girl, because that is what I am. I don’t have a whole heap of thrills. I’m not drama-filled. I don’t hookup with different guys every night of the week. Not that I’ve had the opportunity, to be honest. Who knows if I would have if different hotties were throwing themselves at me every night of the week. I’m twenty-three. I just graduated from college last year. I work as a secretary at a large accounting firm. Yes, the job is boring. And no, my boss is not hot. I live with my best friend, Alyssa, in a dumpy apartment in San Francisco. And no, I’m not exaggerating. It is dumpy, but I love it. Not as much as I would love living in New York City, but a girl can’t have everything. I love my life even though I’m not super rich and I don’t have the job of my dreams. I have my insecurities like everyone else, but I think I’m pretty levelheaded. At least I was until I got into this crazy mess.
This story starts like most crazy stories start: at a bar with two crazy girls, looking for a fun night out and some attention. Don’t get distracted though, this is the beginning, not the middle and definitely not the end. Bear with me, you’re about to go on a crazy-ass ride that you and I will never forget.
Picture it: San Francisco, March, 2016. Alyssa and I are sitting around in the living room when she has the best—and when I say best, I mean kind of the worst—idea ever. And only worst because it ended up with me feeling like the star of some titillating Lifetime movie.
“Let’s go to a club or a bar, a really nice one and just let loose,” Alyssa said that night, her eyes eager and watching me carefully.
“We can’t afford to go to a really
nice bar or club,” I responded, because I’m the practical one and I knew that neither of us had much money in the bank.
“We can’t afford to go to a bad bar, either, if we’re being honest.” I continued thinking about our limited funds and tried not to cringe.
“Yes, we can.” Alyssa rolled her eyes. “I have a credit card, you have a credit card.” Alyssa had the mentality that it didn’t matter how you got the money; if it was available, it was able to be spent. I was honestly quite surprised that she’d never taken a job as an escort or something. Though, I suppose that’s an unfair statement to make. She’s not easy, just a spendthrift.
“Alyssa, I have two hundred and sixty dollars in the bank. You have eighty. We cannot afford to go anywhere.” I shook my head at her.
“I have two grand on my credit card. Thanks, Capital One.” She grinned at me and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, even as I shook my head.
“Dude, we cannot go out. We should just watch Netflix and eat Ramen. You might have two grand in available credit, but you’ll still have to pay it back.”
“I don’t wanna eat anymore Ramen.” She groaned. “And, sorry, I don’t want to watch more Gilmore Girls. I want to go out. I want to meet hot guys. I want a strange guy to kiss me, feel me up, make me feel like I’m some hot young thing, living in the city, living my life. And I have thirty days to pay it back. We’ll just try and do some overtime or something.”
“You are a young hot thing, living in the city, living your life.” I grinned at her and tried not to laugh at the pitiful look on her face. “And I know plenty of strange guys in the Tenderloin that would be willing to kiss you.”
“Yeah, homeless dudes with bad breath. Minty breath is a must have.” She grinned and then winked at me. “And the ability to take me out for a fancy dinner, so I don’t have to eat Ramen every night. And so I don’t have to run up my credit card bill. I need the sort of guy I’d meet at a hot club. Not on a hot street corner.”
“Hey, what about me?” I pouted. “I don’t want to eat Ramen every night either.”
“I’ll bring leftovers for you, don’t worry about it. I’ll hook you up.” She giggled.
“Wow, I’m so lucky.” I winked at her. “I guess, then, we must go out tonight. Let’s max out our credit cards so you can start bringing home those lobster and steak meals.” I shook my head as I spoke, but she could tell from my voice that I had already relented. I mean, I knew it was a bad idea to go out and use my credit card to fund the fun, but if I said no to every bad idea Alyssa or I had ever had, then I’d be some sort of saint. And a saint, I’m not. As you’re about to find out.
“Sounds like a plan to me. Where shall we go?”
“You tell me, Richie Rich’s future wife.” I rolled my eyes.
“You got that right. I’d be Trump’s wife if it meant I’d be living in the lap of luxury.” She grinned. “Let me have a look on Yelp and see what’s hot.”
“Yelp?” I raised an eyebrow at her. “Any clubs worth going into debt for are not going to be listed on Yelp.” I could feel my stomach churning. “And really, you’d want to be Mr. Comb-over’s fourth wife?”
“Not really. I’d rather marry Leonardo DiCaprio.” She licked her lips and I just shook my head at her. “Also pray tell, Jess, how are we going to find a great exclusive club without Yelp?’ Alyssa looked at me pointedly. “Do you have some insider knowledge I don’t know about?”
“Oh yeah, I have so much insider knowledge, it’s not even funny. All the clubs want me there every night to dance on the tables and bring in all the handsome men.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Let me see which clubs want me there tonight.”
“You can bring some handsome men back here, if you want.” Alyssa laughed. “After you pimp yourself out at the gentleman bars.”
“I want, you want, but they don’t want.” I laughed. “They never want. Even when I pimp myself out.”
“They want, but they’re just too scared to talk to you.” Alyssa laughed again. “They know you’re too expensive for them. Men are weaklings inside.”
“Hmm, I don’t know about that?” I made a face. “I think I could be giving it away for free and still get turned down.” Alyssa just rolled her eyes at me in response. We both knew that if I gave it away for free, I’d have plenty of takers.
“Want to buy new outfits at Macy’s and get free makeovers in the cosmetics department?” She grinned at me encouragingly. “We can keep the tags on the dresses and return them tomorrow or next week or something.”
“That’s awful. You know that, right? We’d essentially be stealing.”
“You say tomato, I say tomaahto, tomato, tomaahto,” Alyssa sang and I rolled my eyes.
“Fine, but only because I had a shitty week at work and we both need some fun.” I told you, it doesn’t take me long to go down the wrong road. Not sure if that makes me good or bad. Or just somewhere in-between like most human beings. Though most human beings wouldn’t have done what I did.
“And we’re both poor and deserve to wear cute dresses. Poor girls need nice things too.” Alyssa started singing and dancing around the room and I found myself smiling at her contagious enthusiasm.
“Oh, God, we suck.” I groaned and collapsed onto the dumpy secondhand denim couch that we’d picked up at a second-hand store for fifty dollars.
“But at least we’re not doing it for cash.” She fell down on the couch next to me, giggling.
“Doing what for cash?”
“Sucking.” She winked at me and we both burst out laughing. And that was how it began. So innocently. Well, not exactly innocently, but you know what I mean. It wasn’t even my idea to go to the club, so really I can’t be blamed for everything that happened because I went to the club that night. I’m not a bad girl. Well, I didn’t used to be. Now I don’t know if I can really claim that anymore. The innocent girl I was that night is no longer the girl I am. I do things now that would make your eyes pop open, things that would make you gasp, things you wouldn’t even believe. Things I wouldn’t tell my parents about. I’m even ashamed to talk about it with Alyssa sometimes, but I can’t not talk to her about it. If I didn’t have her, I wouldn’t have anyone. And trust me, the situation I’m in, it’s not a situation that I can just not talk about with anyone. For one, it’s too juicy and too crazy. And as much as I hate myself for what I’m doing, I also can’t stop.
* * *
We got into the ritzy club quite easily that night. We looked hot, but that’s what fresh makeovers at Macy’s and tight short dresses will do for you when you’re young and willing to wear anything, which we were. I was wearing a short tight black Lycra piece that made me look as though I was on the make, which I kinda was, though not really. I was one of those girls that liked the attention, but wasn’t looking to hookup. I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. I don’t want a guy groping me or rubbing up on me, or trying to take me home. I’m more of a romantic. I want a guy to look at me as if I’m hot stuff and, yeah, his eyes can tell me he wants to sleep with me, but I want him to have more restraint. I feel like a guy with restraint is a guy that is seeing you as long-term potential. I don’t know if that’s right or not, but it’s just the way that I feel. I mean, it could also mean that the guy is gay or that he’s just not into me. That’s how Alyssa interprets the fact that a guy doesn’t want to sleep with her right away. She says that if a guy is into you, whether or not he wants you for more than one night, he wants to sleep with you. I think that doesn’t mean he has to act upon it, but that’s where we differ.
Not that either one of us judged the other one, and that was what really mattered. Alyssa had had more one-night stands than I could count on both hands, and yet it worked for her because she never got emotionally attached and never felt used the next morning. I’d had sex with one guy after going on about five dates with him and when he never called me back, I’d been devastated, crying into my pillow, wondering what was wrong with me, feeling used, abuse
d and cheap. Sometimes I think I’m too emotional, too invested in what sex means in a relationship. Sometimes I think I should be like Alyssa, but then I always second-guess myself. Though I suppose everything changed that night. That was the night that I met Pierce. Pierce, Pierce, Pierce. He turned my world upside down and put everything in it on edge. Nothing has been the same since I met Pierce.
Electrifying—that’s the word I would use to describe the first time my eyes met Pierce’s. He had a smoldering look about him. He had one of those hard faces that grew handsome when he smiled, and—oh, boy—when he smiled, he was magnetic. Almost boyish. Though, I guess it’s hard to look hard and boyish. But if you saw Pierce, you’d understand what I mean. No one in the club could take their eyes off of him, even if they wanted to. He had jet-black hair, straight, silky—the kind of hair you wished you had, and wanted to play with. His eyes were sky blue, and warm, direct and interesting when he gazed at you. His eyes seemed to be searching into your soul when he gazed at you and I almost had the feeling that he could read my mind when he looked at me, though I knew that was impossible. Because if he’d read my mind, things would have been a lot less complicated and I wouldn’t have gotten myself into this mess.
I was with Alyssa standing at the edge of the dance floor when I met him for the first time. At first I thought he was looking at her and I was giddy with excitement for her. I mean, the goal had been for one of us to meet a nice guy, and, well, Alyssa wanted rich as well and he looked as if he had money, if his expensive suit was anything to go by. I honestly wouldn’t have been upset if he’d tried to pick up Alyssa and not me. Maybe that would have been the best thing that could have happened. But life never goes as it should.
