by Liz Crowe
Sweat Equity
by
Liz Crowe
Liz Crowe’s series, Stewart Realty, garners critical acclaim
from readers and realtors alike!
“Gut-wrenching and heartbreaking, Sweat Equity is a roller coaster ride of emotions, taking you through a colossal train wreck of a relationship…then has you begging to go again… Ms. Crowe has done an outstanding job of making you feel every verbal slap, every erotic touch, and every heartbreaking and colossal screw up from beginning to end. The sex in the book is incredible…it’s fast, furious, angry, elemental and animalistic to say the least. There are a lot of erotic encounters in Sweat Equity, including some super fabulous M/M scenes with Sara’s brother Blake and his partner Rob, but none are over the top or placed in as filler for the “real” plot. For its realistic story line and dialogue, ability to make me connect with every single character in the book and the capacity to both piss me off and turn me on simultaneously, Sweat Equity is much deserving of a JERR Gold Star Award. I am waiting anxiously for Ms. Crowe’s third installment in the Stewart Realty series with bated, and outraged, breath.”
~ Silla Beaumont, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
“Hands down, one of my favorite reads of 2012 and has earned a much deserved 5 stars! I finished this book over a week ago and yet I still cannot find the words to accurately convey how much I loved it. This series is so realistic, raw, emotional, mouth-watering hot – but I absolutely LOVE it! I recommend it with complete certainty that you’ll fall in love and, be just as hooked as I am.”
~ Alyssa Hesper Mathews, Hesperia Loves Books
“Crowe has a talent for bringing to the page characters with confused, conflicting emotions who don’t even realize they are creating their own misery by trying so hard to avoid broken hearts – just like real life! Jack and Sara make misstep after misstep until I wanted to scream at them to get it together already. They love each other so much and yet make their lives so hard.”
~ Jeanne Stone-Hunter, My Book Addiction and More
“The Stewart Realty series by the fabulous Liz Crowe will not be disappointing readers. Jack and Sara will have you experiencing all kinds of different emotions as they continue on their journey to discover what they both really want from one another. Be prepared to read non-stop as the adventure continues and leaves your jaw dropping for more. I 100% recommend this book, which has left me anxiously waiting for the next installment. The characters are so amazing and well developed and the situations, they experience evoke so much emotion. I could not stop reading this book because it was that addicting!”
~ Ashley Carver, Amazon.com
“The characters were appealing and well-developed — and the writing which impressed me from the first page. I think Jack and Sara have the potential to be a super couple. They have explosive chemistry and their sex is off the charts hot. However, I did want more of the BDSM in their relationship. It was obvious Sara wanted it too, but Jack was never fully able to let go and be his true self because of something which happened in his past. Liz Crowe was a new author to me and I would definitely read other books by her. Her style flows which makes for a great, easy read with really hot sex.”
~ Kimber, Guilty Pleasures Review
Sweat Equity (Stewart Realty, Book 2)
Copyright 2012 Liz Crowe
A Tri Destiny Publishing – Sizzlin’ Books Line
Cover Art Copyright 2012 by JJ Silver Designs
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. They may not be re-sold or given away, except as provided in promotions sponsored by Tri Destiny Publishing or the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and you did not purchase it, win this copy during a promotion or, if not purchased specifically for your use only, then please delete this copy, notify us at [email protected]. We encourage you to purchase your own copy and support the author’s hard work in their craft.
For Susan
Thanks for your amazing support and unquestioning loyalty
Contents
Title Page
Reviews
Copyright
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Preview
Author Biography
Prologue
New Year’s Day
Sara sat, blanket clutched to her breasts, breathing heavy with sweat trickling down her neck. She was shocked the entire resort didn’t awake from her scream. Glancing over at the sleeping man next to her, she tried to let his presence soothe as it normally did. He snored and rolled over onto his side, flinging an arm across her lap.
The tall woman from her dream would not fade. “You can’t trust him Sara. Believe me. He only gave you that ring because he couldn’t have you any other way. He’ll be up to his old tricks soon; mark my words.” The vision of the dream woman turning to a tall, familiar dark-haired man and wrapping her lean body against his, made Sara clench her eyes shut. Dreams were supposed to fade once you woke, but this one had her in its clutches and would not let go.
She crawled out from under Jack’s arm and the tangle of sheets and sat on the edge of the bed, letting the ocean air rustling through the sheer window coverings cool her overheated skin. The moonlight caught the diamond she wore, making her wince when it hit her square in the eye with its brilliance. Swallowing hard, she padded over to the enormous bathroom, shut the door and slid to the floor, letting tears roll down her face. Evidence of the intense session they’d shared last night lay all around her: Soft leather restraints, a bottle of expensive champagne, a vibrator and a bottle of lubricant. She squirmed on the floor, sore in places she didn’t know she had.
Jack certainly knew how to throw a party. She brushed the tears away berating herself.
You liked it. Don’t be such a hypocrite. You love giving him control over you this way.
The fact that he’d whisked her away on a surprise New Year’s Eve junket to St. Bart’s, to this remote, secluded and ultra-exclusive resort that “supported” their lifestyle choice had shocked the shit out of her at first. But by the time he’d worked her into a frenzy on the private jet and they’d emerged in the paradise of seventy-degree weather, ocean breezes and more of his fingers, lips, tongue and cock, she gave into it, loving every breathless minute.
“Hey,” a soft knock and the sound of his deep, morning gravelly voice made her startle. “What’s up in there?”
She stood, splashed water on her face and opened the door, smile fixed on her face. He frowned and pulled her into his arms. She sighed, letting the mysterious way he calmed her by his sheer presence work its magic. It was so strange, amazingly erotic, highly charged, and seemingly perfect – but for the dreams.
“I have an idea,” he spoke into her hair.
“Huh, if it involves my ass again, we’d better wait twenty four hours.” She giggled at his groan, felt his cock stir against her and suppressed her own surge of horniness.
“Seriously, I may not sit for a week. Not that I’m complaining.”
“I am serious.” He stepped back, took her face between his hands. His deep blue
gaze did its usual song and dance on her emotions. “Marry me.”
“I already said yes to that remember?” She flashed the giant ring she still couldn’t adjust to on her finger. “Under duress I might add.”
He smiled, ran a finger over her lips. “No. Today. Here.”
She frowned at him, her brain skipping ahead to what exactly that meant. No big wedding. No parental or brotherly stress. Tying herself to this man, forever, without friends or family to witness. Tempting.
“I can’t.” She shrugged his hands off her and walked over to the window, winding a soft robe around her nudity.
“Why not?” His hands on her shoulders encouraged her to lean against his tall, firm body. “Why go through the torture of planning an event we know will be stressful as hell for everybody involved? Besides, I’m gonna be so busy with this new building thing, I won’t really be much help. And I just think…” he leaned down to brush a kiss against her cheek, making her shiver. “I’m afraid we aren’t cut out for the whole big wedding thing. You know?”
“No, we’ll be fine. I’ll plan. You nod your head at the appropriate moments. I don’t need you to do much more than that, other than show up at the right hour in the right suit.”
He snorted and flopped down in a large leather chair. “Yeah, that and write checks.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I told you my dad would pay…”
“Stop. Right there. We discussed this already. See; look at us, fighting already. C’mere you sexy beast,” he yanked her down onto his lap, covered her protests with his lips, letting his hands roam under the robe, pulling it off her shoulders.
“Jack,” she whispered, threading her hands in his thick hair, letting him take her again, away from a potential conflict with his body. “You may be right, but, I can’t do that to my mom. She wants me to have this moment, the walk-down-the-aisle moment, and I think I do too, okay?”
“Baby, I want whatever you want, as long as it makes you happy.” She pushed his face up off its current mission towards her breasts, making him look at her.
“Do you really mean that?”
He sighed, and wrapped his arms tight around her, holding her so close she heard his beating heart. “I do. There. See? I even know the right words.”
“But…” She rose from his lap, unwilling to let this go yet. “I’m still worried, I mean, you sprung this on me and I need to know.”
He stood in front of her, took both her hands. “You can trust me. I promise even if you are denying me the simple joy of a quickie wedding in paradise.” His grin was contagious. She shoved the misgivings that cropped up and haunted her for hours every time she had that same dream into a small corner of her mind and wrapped her arms around his neck, sucked in a deep breath of his now familiar scent, and kissed him, long and deep.
He gripped her ass, pulled her legs up around his body and dove in, no preamble, as he dropped her onto the bed. She gasped. “Wait! No condom.” He sighed and eased in further, silencing her with his lips. Oh well, it wasn’t a dangerous week for that and damn did it feel good. She cried out his name repeatedly, logic lost once in the swirl of physical satisfaction that only Jack could provide.
Chapter One
Four Months Later
Jack woke with a start, and immediately regretted it. The hangover that had been lying in wait pounced hard, landing somewhere between his eyes. Groaning, he rolled over and found himself on the floor, trying not to puke all over his expensive Turkish rug. He sat back against the couch and tried to get his bearings. When the room cooperated by holding still, he ran a shaking hand over his eyes and stood. Leaving explanations for why in the hell he woke up on the couch, still half-dressed in pants and an unbuttoned blue shirt, for a time when he gave a shit, he stumbled into the kitchen. The sun streaming through the large window smacked him upside the head, bringing fresh life to the agony.
“Fuck.” He sucked back about a gallon of water and leaned against the cold granite counter top. “No, seriously. Fuck.” He yanked his phone out of his pocket and squinted at the missed calls from nearly an hour before. It was Saturday but, for a change, he didn’t have any serious work to do until nearly four. A few fumbling minutes later the comforting sounds and aroma of a coffee-fix floated around him. He looked up when the shower noises from the master bathroom stopped.
Oh hell.
Sara.
It came rushing back in bursts of idiocy and epic drunkenness. They’d both been that way after a friend’s party, but once home she’d started in on the wedding plans again, and he’d lost it. He stared at his blood-red eyes in the downstairs bathroom mirror. In the way of most disagreements fueled by stress and alcohol, he barely remembered how it started. But he had full knowledge of how it ended. He groaned. He had been a colossal prick. That much he remembered with crystal clarity. He’d been tired, not wanting to go out after a week of unbelievable frustration at City Hall.
Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this total commitment thing. He’d been zoning out every time she brought up any detail of the “classy” event she wanted to pull off in about six months. “Classy” seemed to mean “horrifically expensive” if his newly minted Wedding Decoder Ring worked right. Not that they weren’t more than capable of paying for all the “delicate white lilies” on all the country club tables and top of the line videographer themselves, but last night she’d informed Jack that her father, the estimable Doctor Matthew Clay Thornton, wanted to pay for his only daughter’s nuptial ceremony. He had flown in from Florida with Sara’s mother for a nice, intimate dinner with Sara and her fiancé.
After the week he’d spent in the city planning offices trying to convince a bunch of pinheaded politicians that the massive renovation of a long-abandoned office building on a busy downtown corner would actually be good for their city, he had not a single ounce of patience left. Those assholes had hemmed and hawed him into nearly fifty grand more in architect’s fees. Yet, he still had no approval. And he’d agreed to walk down the proverbial aisle a mere week after the scheduled building opening and gala party he wanted to throw – an opening that now looked jeopardized if not decimated by pinheaded bureaucrats.
“Ah, hell.” He pushed himself away from the sink, the need to hurl the three bottles of red wine and two ill-considered bourbons from last night out of his system. He had to face this. He’d said some colossally stupid things. He’d been avoiding the wedding talk like a trooper, saying stupid shit like, “Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there in the dark suit,” long enough. He’d sprung the proposal on her. It had been, no, it was, what he wanted: Sara, in his life, forever and ever, until death, or whatever.
If only she’d just agreed to marry him at the resort, the arguments would be a nonissue. They’d had such a great time learning their way around the milder elements of the BDSM fun while they were there. It had been perfect. Eloping would have kept all this stress out of his life.
But she was being so bloody stubborn on this thing. He knew it has to be tough for her, submitting to him on any level, and he admired her for it. But he felt his control slipping and that pissed him off too. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, exert the full force of his naturally dominating nature on her. She wasn’t ready for that. Maybe he wasn’t either.
Jack squinted at himself once more. Lines covered his face from lying pressed against the couch arm all night. Jaw covered in rough stubble, thick hair, still black as night, having been blessed by some gene which avoided the salt-and-pepper look. He ran a hand over his dry lips and squared his shoulders. Apologies for bullshit behavior usually came pretty easy. Still, something kept him downstairs, unable to form the right words. He made his way back to the kitchen, poured some coffee into a heavy stoneware mug and sighed.
Sara toweled off, her mind focusing on the long list of houses she had to show a new client in a couple of hours, her heart still clenched in anger. She’d passed out, alone, in Jack’s huge bed. The sunlight caught the diamond on her left hand, throwing prisms
of light around the large bathroom. She’d never put much stock in jewelry, or flowers, or any of the usual shit women seemed to get off on. So, when Jack Gordon, the man she’d been literally fucking around with for months, had sprung a marriage proposal on her in front of their entire company last fall she’d been shocked, to say the least. She stared at the four-carat rock on her finger. It was a work of art-deco beauty. The best that money could buy.
Typical Jack.
Jack’s handsome face, strong body, snapping blue eyes, incredible sales skills–and masterful talent with his lips, hands, tongue, everything about him had compelled her for months; driving her, making her work harder, turning into a newer, better version of herself. But every day brought more doubt about her decision to marry him. She wrapped her body in the large white towel and brushed her teeth, listening for sounds of life downstairs. He had even made her more organized, tidier. Something about him made her want to push herself harder, be better. It made her completely insane with a combination of frustration and something resembling jealousy.
Damn they’d said some ugly stuff to each other. She shuddered, remembering calling him “no better than a man-shaped dildo” at one point. Accusing him of things just short of the Kennedy assassination and global warming. He’d been such a gigantic prick about meeting her parents and spent the evening sulky and uncommunicative with their friends. She’d simply exploded when they got home. He had met her halfway no doubt about it.
What was his problem? He’d made it this “wedding crap” was hers to manage. He’d said he needed to pay for it and would write checks for whatever she wanted. But when it came time to start doing so he’d balked, questioning everything she’d arranged, making her doubt herself. The doubt about her ability to plan a simple wedding had leached over into a lot of worry about the whole situation. She sighed, listening again for noise from downstairs.
