I need to work on Jose’s new contract. For fuck’s sake, the guy deserves a raise with all of the shit that he’s been dealing with over the last week. I’m just struggling on how to word getting flashed on a daily basis into his nursing job description. I’m fairly positive that when he went to college to become a registered nurse, he didn’t anticipate having to be the icon of twenty elderly women’s sexual fantasies. The man deserves to be compensated appropriately.
But the numbers aren’t working for me today, and it’s because my mind is stuck on another subject completely. The only thing that my mind wants to focus on is Willow, and that my friends, is a dangerous subject.
For starters, I woke up next to her this morning. That might not seem like a big deal, but out of everything that happened between us last night, that is the biggest. She was wrapped up in my arms, in my bed, still naked from all of the times that we found each other in the night. The sex was amazing, most definitely. But it was seeing her face the second that my eyes opened, that is really fucking with my head.
I’m sure that it’s just because I’m not used to that. Yes, I’ve fucked a lot of women, but I’ve never done it in my own house, in my own bed, and I sure as hell have never slept next to the woman for the entire night.
I’m a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy, and I make that very clear to every single woman that I spend time with. I’m kind or mean to them, gentle or rough, whatever they ask me for. But when it’s over, I leave. There’s no snuggling, no holding each other all night. None of that shit.
I have an unspoken set of rules that I follow strictly every single time.
Now, I’ve broken all of my own rules, which is fitting, since sleeping with Willow already broke every rule that Wyatt has drilled into my head since I met the guy.
“You can fuck whoever you want in my house, brother.” I can still feel his hand patting me on the shoulder, and hear his voice saying the words. “The ones that I’ve had, you can have them. The ones the other guys have had, are fair game too. The only one off limits is Willow. Touching my sister will end with you being six feet deep.”
When he told me that, I’d wholeheartedly agreed. I mean, I don’t have a sister of my own, but I imagine if I did, I’d feel the same way. It was easy to nod my head and vow that I would never do dirty things with his sister, but that was before I met her.
The second that I laid eyes on her, I knew that it was going to be an issue. Now that I’ve actually had her and experienced the complete and utter bliss that is Willow Anderson?
I’m completely fucked.
“What’s all of the racket in here?” Irma pushes Gigi out of the way and cranes her neck around the corner at me. Gigi gives her the finger and then pushes her back.
“Oh, well don’t you look like a happy little fucker this morning?” Irma’s eyes widen. “You must have gotten laid last night, Juju. Oh.” She wiggles her eyebrows at Gigi who drops her middle finger as understanding dawns.
“Jude! You dirty rat. You slept with the doctor, didn’t you? I saw you leave with her last night.”
That’s the problem with crossing the line. Sometimes, the wrong people are the ones who figure it out.
“No.” I hope that my voice sounds convincing. “Could you guys please stop insinuating that? Willow is my best friend’s little sister. I’d never do him dirty like that.”
Liar liar, pants on fire.
“Then who was it? Because you obviously got laid last night.” Irma folds her arms across her chest, and smirks. “You share yours, and I’ll share mine.”
“No!” My hands instinctively fly up. “Do not share, Irma. If you’re having sex, which I hope is untrue, I don’t need to know about it, and I sure as hell don’t need to hear about it.”
“Oh, I’m not now.” She rolls her eyes. “Can’t really get laid when you live with twenty women, Juju. But back in my day, I had some fun. In fact, I had the most fun with my best friend’s older brother. I should have married that man, but instead, I chose my friend. Biggest mistake of my life.”
I ignore her twisted piece of advice. It might not even be true. She’s trying to trick me into admitting that Willow is way more than just my friend. Too bad I’m not budging on that.
“Willow is beautiful and kind, but she isn’t my type at all. She’ll end up marrying some doctor, having a couple of kids, and a fairytale ending. Trust me on that, I have no doubt about it.”
“Huh.” Irma shrugs. “I could have sworn she had a crush on you.”
“Out.” I nod my head towards the door. “I had the door shut for a reason.”
14
Willow
I try to ignore the delicious ache in between my legs, but it’s basically no use. There is no denying that it’s there, and frankly, even when the ache finally dissipates, the memories won’t be leaving me any time soon. Jude has forever etched himself into my soul.
I want to tell myself that it’s just because the sex was good. I mean, it was better than good. It was fucking epic.
But even as I try to convince myself of it, I know that there is no use. Jude Masters has messed with my head, and now, I’m going to have to pay for my sins. The price is certain to be a broken heart.
I’ve been rationalizing the way that I’m feeling all morning. This has more to do with my heart being already tender from my breakup with BJ. Jude has just become the scapegoat for the way that my heart yearns for BJ. That has to be it.
The other option is just too baffling to even consider.
I can’t seriously be falling for the guy. That would be insane. It would defy everything that I know about myself. I don’t date guys like him, and I certainly don’t fall in love with them. This is lust. Nothing more, and nothing less.
But this lust is about to drive me over the edge.
“Willow.” My brothers voice causes me to nearly jump out of my skin. I hear the front door slam shut, and then, I hear his feet moving down the hallway towards me. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Wyatt!” I spin around, shocked to see my brother standing before me. The look of anger on his face is evident, and for a fleeting moment, my stomach drops. Holy shit. How can he possibly know?
“Is there anything that you want to mention to me?” My brother is a huge, intimidating guy. As a wide receiver, his build is enormous. His six foot six, almost three hundred pound frame is jam packed with muscle and tattoos. The guy is a beast, he always has been. Even though I know that Wyatt would never harm a hair on my head, still. I’m guilty as sin, and as he stares down at me with angry eyes, my entire tough façade crumbles. I’m about two seconds from spilling my guts and apologizing for sleeping with his best friend, when his arms fold across his chest and he glares down at me.
“When were you going to tell me that I had a team dinner tonight? After I missed it?”
I blink in confusion, Jude’s name is so close to spilling from my lips that I can taste it. But he’s caught me off guard, and just in the nick of time, I snap my mouth shut. I was about to spill my guts and enlighten him to matters that luckily, he doesn’t know.
“Wait, what?” My brain is racing to catch up. “I don’t know anything about a team dinner, Wyatt. Why would I know that? I’m not on your team. You are. And what are you doing here, anyways? You’re supposed to be in Vegas until tomorrow.”
“I had to leave Vegas.” His voice is irritated, which is annoying. “I was having a great time, and then, Declan’s agent reminded him that we had this shit to attend tonight, so we had to cut our trip short. It’s fucking bullshit.”
I roll my eyes. “Ok, so, how does this end up being my fault? You’re a grown ass man, completely capable of handling your own shit, Wyatt. Blame your agent if you need to, just not me.”
More often than not, I feel like our roles are reversed. Wyatt is three years older than I am, but he acts about ten years less mature. I handle a lot of things for him around the house, but I have never been one to handle his schedule. He has
people that he pays big money to do that. He has people who clean up the messes that he leaves out in the public eye, namely, women and indiscretions. He has an agent, and a scheduler, each one tasked with keeping him informed of where he has to be and when. I’m not the one who dropped the ball here. Not even close.
“Yeah, but you know everything! You’re supposed to help me keep track of shit, Willow. It’s marked on the calendar!” His finger points angrily at the calendar posted on the fridge.
“Stop yelling at me.” I glare at him. “You’re an adult. Take some accountability for your own life for once. This lies on you, not on me.”
“Well maybe, but since I didn’t know about this dinner, I didn’t have time to get myself a date. Which means, clear your schedule tonight, sweetheart. You’re going to be my plus one.”
“I am not…” My words fall on deaf ears.
“Oh yes,” Wyatt’s eyes narrow, “you are, Willow. Don’t let me down here, sis. I’m counting on you.”
Sometimes, you count on me too much.
I don’t care how long I’m around this lifestyle, attending things like this will never be my forte. There’s way too much glitz and glamour for my liking. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy getting dressed up in a beautiful dress, putting on makeup and styling my hair, but that’s about where the fun ends.
These things just seem so pompous and arrogant. There are always people here who I could never connect with on any level. I’ve tried to make small talk with some of the guests in attendance, but it always leaves me biting my tongue and fighting an eyeroll. For example, take the goal of this dinner into consideration. On the surface, it looks like this is a team dinner for the Minnesota Saints, in an effort to raise some money for charity. There are reporters among us, all trying to get a few words in with each of the players. There are representatives from all of the major shoe brands, the athletic clothing brands, and all of the major sports networks. To the blind eye, it really does appear as if the Saints are all here tonight, banding together to raise money for cancer.
I fucking know better.
At almost ten thousand dollars a plate, it would seem like they would be raising a shit load of cash tonight. It’s only when you consider the specifics that it makes sense as to what is actually going on here. The charity only gets ten percent.
Ten fucking percent of the proceeds is all that the leading cancer research centers will see from tonight. Now, granted, that is one thousand dollars per plate that will be donated, but you can’t tell me that the food costs nine grand. Bitch, please.
It’s a joke, and per usual, it’s smoke and mirrors. It’s not the guys’ faults, it’s the owners of the team. The ones who sit back in their seats and make bank off of the guys gathered here tonight. It’s more than just a bit annoying.
“You, my love, need to be a little bit better at hiding your facial expressions. Here, have another one of these.” I immediately relax as Mia Malone hands me a flute filled with champagne. I swallow it all in one gulp, to which she just laughs.
“I feel you, girl.” She stares longingly at my now empty glass and then glances at her cup filled with water. “These things are way less painful when you can drink.”
I’ve always really liked Mia, and that’s partially because I’ve also always liked her husband, Adrian. Adrian is the quarterback of the Saints, who married Mia just over a year ago. Less than six months after they got married, they adopted their daughter. Within weeks, they found out that they were expecting their first biological child. Adrian often jokes that he’s changing his number to twenty two, for two kids under two.
Mia just walks around, glowing. She’s definitely the envy of all of the women in this room. Not just because of who her husband is, but more so because he’s actually a good guy. He never humiliates her with rumors of infidelity. There are never compromising photos of him circulating the media. He just goes to his games, plays some damn good football, and then returns home to his wife and daughter. He’s a standup guy, one who fell hard for a woman and made sure to scoop her up right away. Basically, every other player in this room could learn a few lessons from him. Which is the reason that the other wives treat Mia nicely to her face but talk major shit about her behind her back.
Jealousy is a bitch like that.
It’s not uncommon for Mia to hang out with me at these events, at least, the ones that I’m forced to attend. We like to just sit back and watch the show, content to stay in our own little corner of the room.
“I heard about your residency, Willow.” The way that she grabs my wrist and squeezes oozes sincerity. “It’s complete bull crap if you ask me. That hospital made a terrible decision.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I snatch two glasses of champagne this time and clink one of the glasses against hers before tipping the drink to my lips, downing it in one swallow. “Instead of me, they picked BJ.”
Her mouth drops open.
“Who is now my ex.”
“Willow!” The light in her eyes dims. “I am so sorry. He seriously accepted the residency? Even knowing how much it meant to you?”
Numbly, I nod. The way that she looks at me tells me that I wasn’t being crazy when I let loose on BJ for taking something from me that I so desperately wanted. I’ve been feeling so much guilt over it, over the way that I treated him, but seeing someone else back me up makes me feel a little bit better about it.
Now, I only feel guilty for immediately sleeping with another man. A man, named Jude Masters, no less.
“Are you ok?”
I just shrug. I really don’t know if there are enough words in the English vocabulary to express how I’m actually feeling right now. Unfortunately, those feelings aren’t exactly for BJ. They are regarding the man who I let live inside of my body, all night long.
“I’m sorry. But you know what, sometimes things like that happen, and even though they seem awful at the time, they happen for a reason. I mean, if my ex hadn’t done what he did to me, I would have never met Adrian, and the idea of living my life without him just seems impossible. Sometimes your real love comes along when you least expect it.”
As luck would have it, Jude Masters picks that exact moment to saunter over to us, looking heart-stopping gorgeous in his navy blue tuxedo. All of the guys are in navy blue, since it’s one of the Saints colors, but not a single one of them wears it as well as Jude does.
His already gorgeous blue eyes look as dark as the suit color, and with a day old scruff present on his chin, he looks every bit of the bad boy heartbreaker that he is. I feel my skin immediately heat, and my cheeks flush, the second that he’s in my space and sharing my air. I nearly choke on my third glass of champagne, coughing loudly enough to draw attention to myself.
“Damn, Willow, are you alright?” He peers down at me with those eyes of his, the same ones that I stared into last night as he stretched my body in the most delicious way. I almost choke again at the memory, but I manage to pull myself together. “I’m sorry if my gorgeousness almost killed you, doll. I just can’t help it.”
“Leave it to you to lighten the mood.” Mia rolls her eyes at him, but she’s smiling wide and almost laughing. “I was just trying to tell Willow that she’s going to meet the man of her dreams when she least expects it, and then, you show up.”
“Is that so?” A wicked smile spreads across Jude’s lips. He looks down at me, holding my stare, and as he does, I can hardly catch my breath. “Well, Saint Willow, here I am. Your dream man, in the flesh.”
Jude’s eyes darken on mine, causing my lungs to burn and my breath to catch. I fucking hate the way that he makes me feel. I like to be in control, I’ll admit that. I am a complete control freak. And I have absolutely none where Jude is concerned.
Not a damn shred.
If Mia notices how the air stills and the tension rises, she doesn’t mention it. In fact, she laughs his words off, as if they are the funniest thing that she’s ever heard.
“Jude Masters, yo
u could be someone’s dream man, if only you could quit sampling every available variety of woman.”
Jude smirks at her, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. I pick up on it, but Mia doesn’t. It catches me off guard just how much I’ve learned about the man over the last week. I suppose sleeping with someone gets you awfully familiar with their mannerisms, ones that I never picked up on before.
Declan Sanders pulls Jude’s attention away from us, and with just one last, long glance at me, Jude is whisked away. Mia, however, watches him go, shaking her head the entire time.
“If that man could just keep his dick in his pants, he’d be one hell of a catch, you know what I mean?”
More than I care to express, actually.
“I mean, he puts on a good front, but deep down, he’s got a heart of gold. Do you know,” she leans forward, her voice lowering, as if she’s about to tell me all of the world’s greatest secrets. Turns out, she’s about to blow my mind. “he built a retirement community, for a bunch of little old ladies?” She stares at Jude’s retreating back, a huge smile spreading across her lips. “What kind of guy just up and does that, knowing that he’ll get nothing in return? It’s so sweet, and so unlike Jude. For crying out loud, the guy is the total definition of a man whore, and yet, he’s got a huge soft spot for elderly women. It’s hard to wrap my head around it, that’s for sure.”
I glance up to where Jude is standing, across the room, next to my brother and Declan. His head is tipped back and he’s laughing, all while patting Wyatt on the shoulder. My stomach does a little flip just from the sight of him. I immediately push the feeling away.
“No, he doesn’t own it.” I interject. “He just helps out there. His friend owns it and he just…” Just what? Volunteers there once in a while?
“No.” Mia follows my eyes towards Jude, before firmly correcting me. “He owns it. Before he even started construction on it, he asked Adrian for help with the legalities of it. Adrian owns a foster home, which is why Jude came to him. He definitely owns it. He even had it built on his own piece of property, the one that he was going to build his own house on. Underneath that womanizing demeanor is a man with a huge heart. It’s just a shame that elderly women are the only ones that he lets inside. If he ever chose to grow up, he’d be an excellent catch. Too bad he’s just not there yet. Right now, he just screws like it’s his day job.” She rolls her eyes, and then smiles in the direction of the guys, huddled over in the corner, surrounded by a group of women who look like they are doing anything possible to get the guys attention. “Lord help the woman dumb enough to fall for him right now. The only thing she’s going to get from him is a broken heart. Five years from now, Jude Masters will make some lucky woman very happy. Not yet, though.”
No Touch Zone (Saints of Love Book 2) Page 9
