More Than Physical (The Physical Series Book Book 2)

by Hill, Sierra

  Goddamn. Pull your shit together.

  She leaned over the counter, her elbows pressed next to him on the granite top, bringing the bottle up to her mouth. Jackson shifted his body to face her, watching as she took a long drink, enthralled by how her lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle. His cock once again ignoring the warning he sent it.

  Jackson’s six-foot frame towered over her slim, sexy-as-sin body. Without thought, he unconsciously reached out to nab the loose curl at her temple, tucking it behind her ear.

  She flinched before turning her head, the deep-set, brown of her eyes staring up at him in surprise, her lips glistening with moisture that he wanted to suck off.

  He dropped his hand quickly, realizing his mistake when she made a quick intake of breath. He’d been momentarily entranced by her close proximity, forgetting about the pact they’d made not to touch each other again. Never to mention what happened between them or the one incredibly hot night they’d shared together in Cabo. They’d agreed to keep it to themselves like a naughty, dark secret.

  Yet he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d agreed to that decision, because his body was demanding that he get closer. Because not being able to touch her again, or hear her soft whimpers, or listen to her beg for him to make her come – was driving him insane.

  Sasha leaned back, casually perusing him, those dark eyes assessing him from top to bottom and back again, until she stared into his eyes.

  “How was your weekend? Heard you went to New York.” She was good at redirecting – maybe she should have become a lawyer instead of a doctor. She’d be good at it.

  Finishing off his beer, Jackson tossed it in the recycle bin around the corner, opening the fridge to fish out another cold one. Popping the top, he took a generous swig before responding.

  “Yes, I did. I had a good time.” He added an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.

  She snickered. “Yeah, I’m sure those boring, lawyer conferences can be exciting as hell. All that talk about affidavits, Lis Pendens, and tax law probably gives all you attorneys hard-ons.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t go to New York for a conference. I went there to…” he stopped, deciding not to engage, to clearly avoid getting snared into her net. She was baiting him, he knew it. “Never mind.”

  She bumped him with her hip. “Oh, come on…what were you going to say? Oh wait,” she paused, licking her lips. The action made him want to bend her over the counter, and take her right there – damn the other party guests to hell.

  “Maybe there’s a little hottie you have holed away in the Big Apple. Mmm. I bet that’s it. Jax, you’re such a dog.” She snickered again, giving him a wink, clinking her beer bottle against his to show her apparent approval.

  Okay. It was on.

  “If you really must know, Shorty, it’s not just one little hottie, but two. I do enjoy my ménage a trois. Just one can never quite satisfy my needs.”

  He saw the shock register across her face, and for a split second he thought he’d made a big mistake by making up that lie. Until her mouth stretched into a beautifully amused smile.

  “Dayum, Rowdy,” she mused, her small hand slapping him across his chest with a thwap. He could feel the burn left from her heat. “I didn’t know you had it in you. But I have to admit, I’m quite impressed. Way to go, stud.”

  Her hand moved from his chest to circle his bicep, wrapping her dainty fingers around his arm and squeezing, before stroking down and back up again. His eyes followed the movement before snapping back to her gaze.

  Sasha’s voice was now low and raspy, her breath warm against his neck as she reached up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. Her breasts pressed into his arm, the feel so exquisite he had to close his eyes to keep from reacting.

  “So tell me…was it girl on girl action? Or did you have a guy with you? Because that could be very, very hot.”

  They promised they wouldn’t talk about. They’d avoid the topic altogether. But he couldn’t help it. Her sensual words. Her teasing manner. Her sexy actions. It made him ravenous, and he wanted to torture her just as much as she tortured him. Deciding to take the bait after all, Jackson leaned in, pressing his mouth to her ear.

  “Oh, I think you know exactly what I have in me. And you like it.”

  He let his words linger, as he felt her fingers tighten around his forearm, her breath hitching audibly. And in that moment, when her only response was a gasp, he wanted to prove again exactly what he had and what it did to her.

  Going on instinct, his tongue darted out to caress the shell of her ear, then he moved his hand to the center of her breasts, pressing the cold bottle between the dip in her cleavage. She jerked, and a tiny moan escaped her mouth.

  Good. It was good to know he wasn’t the only one still feeling that attraction.

  He pulled his hand back to watch the small droplets of condensation left from his bottle slowly drip down her torso, stopping at her belly. He was about to lean down to lap up those droplets up with his tongue when a voice from behind him brought his actions to a halt.

  “Am I interrupting something here?”

  Jackson kept his eyes trained on Sasha, as she stepped back, giving them some physical distance. With a grimace, he turned his head toward Mitch who’d just walked in wearing a cockeyed grin.

  Sasha was the first to recover. “Nope. We’re just talking through the details of your upcoming co-ed bachelor and bachelorette party. How do you feel about circus animals?”

  Mitch laughed boisterously at her outrageous question. Jackson enjoyed that about Sasha. She always had a quick wit about her, and could dish it out like no one else he knew. She was a diminutive little minx.

  “Well, I can’t speak for Rylie, but I’m not a fan of monkeys. They creep me out. So I’d prefer you steer clear of any circus themes.”

  Sasha placed her hands on her hips, covering up the two strings that tied her bikini bottoms together. Jackson’s thoughts went to the last time he saw her in a bikini, when she let him slide his hand down underneath the material, his fingers caressing her wet and swollen center.

  “Humph. You’re no fun.”

  Mitch’s voice took on a more alarmed tone, the concern evident in his question.

  “I didn’t realize you two were planning this together. Any claw marks or bruises yet?”

  Sasha coughed, and Jackson just shrugged his shoulders innocently. That’s not to say there wouldn’t possibly be injuries in the future. He was pretty sure she had some nice bite marks on her inner thighs from the last time they were together, and he sure as shit had scratches down the length of his back where her nails dug into him.

  “Nah, man. We’ll play nice – at least until this whole crazy wedding is over. Right, Shorty?”

  Just to get a rise out of her, Jackson reached out and patted her head, as if to placate an insolent child. She jerked her head back, batting his hand away, letting out a hissing sound. It was an impossibility to hold back his laughter.

  “Yeah, that’s right. We’ll play nice, at least until we get through the wedding. That’s why we’re the Best Man and Best Woman.” She smiled brightly.

  “You mean Maid of Honor, don’t you?” Jackson chortled, recalling her email and her feelings on that honorary distinction.

  Sasha growled, slapping at his shoulder. “I’m Best Woman, you schmuck!”

  Mitch just shook his head in feigned disgust, Jackson rubbing his shoulder from her puny attempt at an upper body assault.

  “Okay, you two. Behave yourselves and quit acting like a couple of juveniles,” he warned, picking up the two beers before heading out toward the patio. “Don’t you dare fuck this up for Rylie. I don’t want my bride-to-be pissed off before she heads down the aisle.”

  He gave them both a stern look before disappearing through the doors.

  They stood there in an awkward silence for a few moments, Jackson pondering the predicament they were in, taking in the way Sasha was now looking any
where but at him.

  Working together for the unforeseen future was going to be tough. Something was bound to get them riled up. And once that happened, all hell might break loose.

  “So back to this party,” she said reluctantly, her finger running over the rim of her bottle. Jackson groaned inwardly, remembering exactly how it felt to have that finger running over the tip of his dick. Her eyes flicked from the bottle up to his face, narrowing as if she were going to say something naughty, but instead looking away at the last minute.

  “What do you think about a 70’s disco theme? You know, everyone dresses up in vintage clothing and we party in Hugh Hefner-style.”

  Jackson studied her thoughtfully. He liked her idea, but didn’t want to admit it. He wanted to make her work for his praise and admiration, just to get under her skin. Or just get her under him.

  His fingers longed to glide over the supple, smooth flesh of her shoulders, and the soft swell of her belly, down to the sweet-scented softness between her legs. He ached with the memory.

  To keep his fingers from going where they shouldn’t, Jackson brought them to his chin, stroking at his light stubble.

  “Hmm. Maybe…but what about a Star Wars-themed event? I think you’d make a pretty hot Princess Leia in that little bikini outfit she wore in the Return of the Jedi. I’d be happy to play Jabba the Hut, making you my sex slave and chaining you up against me.” His tongue waggled out of his mouth in a crude gesture, his best imitation of the ugly slug creature from the movie.

  Sasha’s face crinkled up in horror, her mouth gaping open. “You’re a disgusting juvenile, Jax. That is just sick. I think I’m going to puke.” She bent over at her waist, faking some pretty realistic gagging noises.

  Jackson looked around, seeing the alarm and panic on one of the other guests’ faces. Waving them off, he smiled and shrugged his shoulders to let them know it was all just play.

  “Stand up, you’re making a spectacle of yourself,” he mumbled, yanking lightly at her elbow.

  She stood, adjusting her bikini top as she did, garnering Jackson’s undivided attention in the process.

  “Fine. Whatever,” she huffed indignantly. “Let’s just get this thing decided so we can make it happen. We only have a month and I do not like last minute planning.”

  Jackson set down his beer, turning back to the counter. Several guests milled around in the kitchen area, bringing with them loud raucous laughter and voices. Jackson sighed, gruffly latching on to Sasha’s wrist, and dragging her down the hall.

  “Wh-what are you doing?”

  He passed several doors until they reached the room he was looking for. The guestroom, where he’d spent many nights in the past, usually far too drunk to drive home. Pressing his hand to the small of her back, he pushed her inside, shutting the door behind them.

  “Well, aren’t you presumptuous, Mr. Koda,” she said in a mocking tone. “Didn’t you just get done telling me that one wasn’t enough for you?”

  “Ah, shut it and sit down, Shorty. You wanted to talk so we could get this ridiculous party planned, so let’s do it.”

  She looked down at the floor, her flip-flop pushing against the plush carpeting. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

  Well shit. Did he just make her feel bad? Now he felt like a douche. He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, he only wanted to get this over and done with so he could move on. Spending too much time with Sasha was disconcerting. And distracting as hell.

  Jackson thought he’d pushed aside the feelings he’d had for her, spending the past eight months trying to work her out of his mind. But now, interacting with her, joking around, bantering back-and-forth, and seeing her in the barely-there swimsuit – well, there was only so much a guy could take.

  “So talk.” He was quickly losing his patience. He was barely holding on by a thread.

  Sasha plopped down on the gold and black quilted duvet, looking so incredibly small, and so sexy, in the large four-poster bed. He swallowed thickly, watching her lean back on her elbows, toeing off her flip-flops, her legs kicking out in front of her.

  Back-and-forth. Back-and-forth.

  Everything inside of him begged him to go claim her. Lay her down on the bed and cover her with his body, proving to her once again, that he could be the man for her. That he would give her more pleasure than anyone else before him, leaving no doubt that there would be no one else after him.

  “Well, hell. I don’t know. They’re both sports fans, so maybe we do some sports-themed party. You must have a lot of connections,” she said, peering up at him through her long, dark lashes. “Can you rent out Fenway Park or something?”

  He wanted to laugh, letting her know that was a bit outside the scope of his abilities, but at that point, he’d do or say just about anything she suggested if it meant she continued looking at him like that. Her teeth sunk down into her lower lip, and her deep, brown eyes stared up at him with admiration. The way she asked the question made him feel like he was some god who could do anything with the snap of his fingers. She made him feel huge. Powerful. Victorious.

  Pushing off the door, he took two calculated steps forward before stopping, watching her as he did. Then two steps more until he was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at her prone position. For the life of him, he didn’t know what he was intending to do, but the sight of her, nearly naked, was almost too much for him to bare. She’d tensed with every step he took.

  On instinct, Jackson reached down and let his fingers trace a path down her thigh, lightly brushing the silky skin of her leg until he reached her knee. A sigh escaped her mouth, her eyes closing as her head fell back.

  Taking that as her consent to keep going, he took both hands and pushed her knees wide, her legs now spread open to him. Sasha lifted her head, watching his every move behind hooded eyes, making no attempt to speak or stop him. The only outward expression was her tongue sweeping across her lower lip, and deep, steady breaths.

  His cock throbbed, in recognition of exactly what those lips felt like wrapped around his steely length.

  “You best not do what I think you’re about to do.” Her voice was sultry in both warning and needy desire.

  Jackson smiled, yanking her body down so her butt was at the edge of the bed, making room for him to step between her legs. If he bent down now, his erection would be nestled in the warmth of her core.

  “And what is it, exactly, that you think I plan on doing?”

  Her foot came up and pressed firmly into his hard-on, her bare toes wiggling tightly against his crotch, roughly rubbing his length underneath his shorts. Jackson grabbed hold of her ankle to keep her there, his dick throbbing against the arch of her foot. Or maybe subconsciously, he was protecting himself, in the event she planned on kicking him in the nuts. He wouldn’t put it past her.

  “It’s fairly obvious what’s on your mind, Rowdy,” she purred, rubbing her heel against his erection, eliciting a groan from him. “But we agreed we wouldn’t go there again. That was a one-time deal.”

  She moved out of his grasp quickly and pushed off the bed to stand. Although he took a slight step back, he hadn’t left much room to maneuver, so her body pressed flush against his.

  Sasha craned her neck up, as Jackson’s head bent down, their eyes met. His full of desire. Hers full of determination. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. He still wanted to taste her lips one more time. To see if it lived up to his memories.

  “But it was good, wasn’t it?”

  He couldn’t resist. He placed his hands on her ass cheeks, cupping the mounds of soft flesh with his fingers. He squeezed, jerking her into him, brushing his lips over hers.

  It started out soft, a ghost of a memory of the night they shared. Reminding them both of the spark. The heat. The chemistry that still brewed between them.

  Sasha’s lips parted with a sigh and he dove in with a searing kiss. His tongue searched hers out, finding her mouth hot and wet. She tasted of strawberries and beer, and he wante
d to devour her. The kiss turned hard, frantic, as if trying to make up for lost time.

  Sasha arched against him, her breasts pushing up, nipples pebbling hard into his chest. His fingertips moved on their own volition, tracing the silky edge of her bikini bottoms. Back and forth. Dying to slip underneath, knowing that if he did, it could bring everything to a crashing halt.

  Jackson placed one of his hands at the nape of her neck, cradling her head, and the other remained on her ass, greedily digging into her flesh. She felt so good, so warm. Exactly how she felt the last time.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she moaned, her lips leaving his, much to his dismay. “It was too good, Jax. But that doesn’t mean we would be good together. We’d be a mess and you know it. And neither of us has the time for a complicated relationship.”

  Was that true? Were they so completely opposite that they could never fit together?

  Night and Day. Black and White. Hot and Cold.

  What if they just tried and see what happens? They might be opposites, but that’s what made them so combustible together. She thrilled him. Excited him. Turned him on like no one else had before. And yes, they both had very busy lives, his profession keeping him on the road constantly, locked in negotiations and board meetings. And hers, as an orthopedic surgeon, was stressful and time-consuming.

  Sasha pushed off his chest and moved around him, slowly inching herself toward the door. Dammit, he wanted her to stop. The last thing he wanted was her walking out that door.

  She was a beautiful sight. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession, as if he’d knocked the breath out of her. Jackson liked the fact that he could that to her. Sasha wasn’t lying about it being good. She was just as affected by their chemistry as he was. But why was she so adamant that they couldn’t give it a try?

  Sasha reached the door and turned the knob, opening it up just enough for her to slip through. She was halfway out the door when she turned back around, her eyes finding his once more.

  “Tell me, Jax. Did you really have a threesome this weekend?” Her voice was soft and tenuous, as if she was scared to find out the truth. Or maybe she was even a bit jealous.