More Than Physical (The Physical Series Book Book 2)

by Hill, Sierra

  “You, of anyone, should know I keep my sex life private,” he said, referring to the secret they shared. “But I will tell you this, Sasha. If I were with you again, I wouldn’t share you. I’d want you all to myself, and I’d never need anything more than you.”

  Jackson thought he’d heard her gasp as she turned to walk away, leaving him with a raging hard-on, and a glimmer of hope that maybe someday he’d have her again.

  Chapter Five

  Sasha’s week was packed with new patient consults, four surgeries - all fairly minor, thankfully - and loads of patient reports, clinical paperwork, and bills. And it was only Wednesday.

  When she decided to open her own practice and physical therapy clinic three years ago, she didn’t realize how easily it would consume her life. Every waking hour most days was devoted to her practice, her patients, and her staff.

  She wasn’t kidding when she’d told Jackson that trying to have a relationship together would be complicated. Her life was busy. And she knew it would be when she became a business owner. Sasha knew from experience exactly what she was getting into, because she’d lived it her entire childhood. Her father was the same way, completely run by his career, leaving her to long for an absent father figure who seemed far more interested in his career than his own family.

  Sasha’s father, Christopher Leonetti, was a renowned neurosurgeon at a prestigious Boston hospital. He was devoted to helping save lives, which she always admired, because he was a hero in that respect. But as a young girl, she didn’t care about any of that then. She just wanted her father around.

  And the only way she could gain his attention was by acting out - which she did quite frequently as a teen - and then pursue a field in medicine. She thought if she could prove to him that she was smart and brave, and had the chutzpah to become the best surgeon in her field, then she would gain his respect and love.

  It worked for a while. He hugged her tightly at her med school graduation, whispering in her ear how proud he was of her. She beamed with pride, feeling like she would burst like a bubble from the outwardly love he’d expressed. That happiness lasted up until his pager went off, resulting in him leaving her behind before her graduation reception even began.

  That’s how it had always been with her father. Absent for the majority of her important life-events, hardly present even when he was at home with her and her mother, and detached in his physical expressions of love.

  Sasha’s therapists suggested perhaps that’s why she acted so needy and dependent when she fell in love with Andrew, becoming obsessed with needing his love. Her desire to fill up that gaping hole in her heart had led her down a steep and perilous path, landing her in a mental ward after she had her breakdown. Not a great way to impress her staunchly private, hard-to-please father.

  But perhaps it had all happened for a reason. She now understood what triggers could expose her weakness, sending her off the deep end. Sasha still continued her bi-monthly therapy sessions, when she had the time, and wrote in her journal daily to identify her feelings in a more productive manner.

  But the most important change she had made, one that would certainly prevent any future mental shake-ups, was avoiding any complicated relationships that could lead to love – the biggest trigger of them all.

  Sasha rubbed her stress-strained eyes, pulling her attention away from the paperwork on her desk. Letting her mind drift back, she thought about the past weekend with Jackson. Their brief, but oh-so-hot, exchange in the guestroom of Mitch and Rylie’s house.

  There was something about that man that turned her on like nobody’s business. He was so stuffy and serious most of the time, but she’d been witness to his lighter side, too. He could joke and laugh, teasing her mercilessly, and he certainly knew how to get under her skin with his antagonistic humor. And his hot and dirty words.

  And there was no denying that Jackson Koda was one very attractive man. He was a living, breathing, walking, talking sex god. And damn if she didn’t know it from firsthand experience.

  Sure, he was a very good looking man. Tall and lean, trim from playing basketball, squash, or whatever other elite sports uppity lawyers played during their lunch hours, but incredibly fit none-the-less. Jackson’s golden-brown hair was worn short and neat, cropped close on the sides and in the back, with soft tufts covering the top. Long enough to sift her fingers through it and grip onto when he was between her legs.

  That night in Cabo, on the beach, was the hottest sex she’d ever had. And lord knows, she’d had a lot over the years. Yes, she was unapologetic about the thrill-seeking habit she enjoyed of getting men into her bed. If some considered that slutty behavior, so be it. She called it a coping mechanism, and it had worked quite well for her by preventing her from latching on to any one man or falling head-over-heels for someone that would ruin her.

  And there was no doubt in her mind that Jackson could intentionally, or unintentionally, be that one.

  The loud sigh just inside her office doors brought her back from her thoughts. Rylie stood in her doorway looking downtrodden and exhausted.

  “Well shit, girly. Either your boss is working you too hard or your sexy fiancé is working you too hard in bed every night. So which is it? And since I’m your boss, you better say it’s the latter.”

  Rylie plopped down on the big comfy couch that was pushed against the wall in Sasha’s clinic office. She was a bit surprised to see Rylie looking so dead on her feet. The woman was in phenomenal shape and had more stamina than anyone she knew. Her brain sparked with an inkling of possibility.

  Clapping her hands together gleefully, Sasha jumped up and down in excitement in her chair.

  “Oh my God, woman. Are you preggers? Is that why you’ve been so tired lately? Holy shit, is this going to turn out to be a shotgun wedding? Do we need to fast track things so you can fit into your dress?”

  Rylie’s eyes grew wide with shock and her hands moved like lightning, smacking Sasha against her head in a flash of mock anger.

  “Bite your tongue! Don’t even think that,” she cried out in an ear-splitting shriek. “You know damn well that I’m not interested in having babies yet.”

  Sasha grabbed on to the pluralized noun she’d let slip. “Babies? As in more than one? So you and Mitch have already talked about how many kids you want together? Damn, girl, your children are going to be so fucking gorgeous.”

  She sighed, envisioning beautiful little versions of dark-haired children running around, all little mini-me’s of Mitch and Rylie.

  “And you know I can’t wait to be an auntie. Hopefully you’ll have a girl first. I can take her shopping and play dress up with her, introducing her to the styles of Tory Birch, and Michael Kors.”

  With an exasperated grimace, Rylie slid back into the leather couch and closed her eyes.

  “Don’t make me have to kick your ass. I may not have the energy right now, but I will get you at some point. I don’t even know why we’re talking about this right now. This has nothing to do with a baby or being pregnant, which I’m not, for the record,” she reinforced emphatically. “I’m just so tired hashing out the plans of this goddamn wedding. I had no idea it would be this much work. There’s so many things to consider. And while I absolutely adore Margo, she’s taking her mother-in-law responsibilities a bit too far.”

  Sasha wheeled her desk chair in front of Rylie, placing her hands on her friend’s knees for support and emphasis.

  “You don’t have to do this alone, Ry. You know that, right? Didn’t Mitch even offer to hire a wedding planner for you? Why are you being so bitch-ass stubborn and not getting help? It would take the pressure off so you could just enjoy this perfect moment in your life.”

  Rylie lifted her head from the couch, shrugging her shoulders in defiance. “I know. I’m being stubborn. I guess a part of me just doesn’t want to hand over the reins to someone else. It is my wedding, after all. And someone else might not appreciate the things I like or want.”

  Sasha u
nderstood what Rylie was saying. They’d had the conversation a week earlier when they’d gone dress shopping and since then, Sasha had backed off on giving Rylie any unsolicited advice. Rylie was her own person and she didn’t need to hear about what she should do or could do with her wedding. It was important to her that she have the wedding that was just right for her tastes and own unique style.

  Although they were vastly different, Sasha and Rylie were the closest that two women could be. Rylie never really knew her own mother, so in many ways, Sasha filled that void with the feminine advice and counsel she’d given her over the years. And Rylie was the calm to Sasha’s chaotic and self-induced crazy lifestyle. And then there was Mark, their male counterpart, who was the foundation of their friendship. The Three Amigos.

  “Well, here’s what I think we should do. Let’s go have a little spa treatment this weekend. Forget everything else except getting our bodies worked over and then pampered by Dominic. He knows exactly how to make a girl feel good.”

  “Oh my God, did you sleep with him, too? I thought he was gay?”

  Sasha gave her a coy smile. “I’ll never tell,” she said in her sing-song high shrill. “But I think he’s more bi- than gay. And the hands on that man…”

  Winking at Rylie, who had both hands covering her ears in a display of faux disbelief, Sasha turned back to her desk to pick up her phone, pressing the number of her favorite spa on her speed-dial.

  “Fine, go ahead and book the appointments. But I think Mitch wants the four of us to go together to that awards event on Saturday night. Mitch and Jax are being honored for the work they’ve been doing. Did Jax ask you yet?”

  Sasha’s hand tightened around the phone, her brain telling her not to let it drop.

  “No, he hasn’t. But why in the world would Jackson ask me to go as his date? Wouldn’t he much rather go with someone more, oh I don’t know, demure and less likely to kick him in the balls than me?”

  Sasha remembered the last time they were at a charity event together, well over a year before, the night all hell broke loose between Rylie and Mitch. That was the first time Sasha had been introduced to Jackson and they’d spent the night in search of Rylie, who had run off after seeing Mitch with another woman.

  It was quite the debacle, and even more so since Sasha had been quite drunk that night and upset over her friend’s disappearance. To say that Sasha made a scene at the event was an understatement. Jackson, who had paired up with Sasha in search of Rylie, was tense and visibly embarrassed over Sasha’s behavior.

  Looking back on it now, Sasha herself was more than a bit mortified over how she conducted herself that night – narrowly avoiding a fist-fight with another party guest, yelling and shouting F-bombs at every passerby, and even stumbling down a flight of stairs.

  So, yeah. She didn’t think Jackson would ever want to live through another night like that again with her – not now or anytime in the next century.

  As if his ears were burning with the knowledge that he was being talked about, the phone in her hand chimed with an incoming text from Jackson. She looked down and then back up to Rylie, whose face wore an “I-told-you-so” expression.

  “Wait, where are you going?” she asked Rylie, who was quickly fleeing out the door. “We’re not done talking about this, little Miss.”

  Rylie waved her hands in the air behind her. “That’s okay. I’m sure there’ll be plenty to talk about later, after you’ve made your date with Jax.” She smiled and waved, closing the door as she left the office.

  Sasha exhaled a long sigh. She wanted to lock her phone in her desk and avoid reading the message altogether, pretending it didn’t exist. She and Jackson were already spending way too much time together with the party planning. Going out together to some fancy gala was not on her list of things she wanted to do with him. It would only bring a heap of trouble.

  But she couldn’t resist the urge to see what his text said.

  Jax: Hey Shorty. Got a second?

  Hmm. Well, that was a bit innocuous. Maybe he just wanted to discuss the upcoming party. Maybe this wasn’t about a date.

  Sasha: Perhaps. What do you want, Rowdy?

  Jax: You know what I want. But that’s beside the point. Can I call you?

  Just the underlying tone of his message, the sexual innuendo that lay heavy within the text, had her tummy fluttering with anticipation. God, she was too sex deprived right now to talk to him. She’d gone weeks without a man and was hornier than a brass band on Flag Day.

  The phone rang, producing a curse from her mouth. Maybe she wouldn’t answer it. She’d just let it go to voicemail.

  It rang again. Dammit. She gathered her resolve and answered it.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself. How’s your week going?” His voice was light and upbeat, without a shred of sexual heat.

  She glanced at her calendar and realized it was still only Wednesday. God, the week was slogging along. She needed a large glass of wine, a hot bath, and some alone time with her battery-operated-boyfriend.

  “Fine. Busy. What can I do for you?”

  As soon as the words slipped from her mouth, she knew she’d opened up a can of worms. Exactly what she wanted to avoid.

  His low chuckle sent ripples of lust down to the hot spot between her legs. Damn him.

  “I’m sure you could do a lot for me if you weren’t so stubborn about not doing it again.”

  “Jax,” she warned, trying to keep her mouth from saying what her body really wanted to say. She had to remain firm. “Knock it off. Why are you calling me?”

  There was a silent pause and then she heard him clear his throat. “I need a date this Saturday night to an awards dinner. I thought since we still need to finalize things for the party, we could talk it out over dinner. We might as well try to make Mitch and Rylie believe we get along, right?”

  Sasha shifted in her seat, the throb echoing between her thighs at the low tenor of his voice. It was deep and smooth, like a rich cognac. She shifted the phone to her left hand, running the other through her hair. The raven corkscrew curls sifted through her fingers, helping her to calm her voice as she spoke.

  “Gee, I’m so flattered. You must’ve given this a lot of thought, considering it’s three days from now. Maybe I already have plans for Saturday night. I do have a pretty vivacious social calendar – sometimes even two dates in one night.”

  Part of her wanted to get back at him for his threesome comment the weekend before. It still irked her not knowing if he really did have one. And kind of excited her, too.

  “I’m sure you do. I’m well aware of your extra-curricular social activities, Sash,” he intoned. She was surprised to hear him use her abbreviated name instead of the usual nickname. He’d never called her that before. She liked it.

  “But come with me instead. And before you make-up some excuse about not having the right attire, I know damn well you have ball gowns and designer formal dresses in that closet of yours. In fact, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that black lace dress you wore the last time. You looked good enough to eat.”

  Well shit. A sexy compliment from Jackson. So maybe he had noticed her more than her drunken behavior that night. Now she knew she’d have to turn him down for real.

  But he looks so good in a tux.

  “Sorry. No can do. I’m busy Saturday night and I’m not breaking my plans last minute for you, Jackson.”

  There was a pregnant pause before he responded.

  “Hmm. I kind of anticipated you’d say that. So I checked with your admin before calling and she confirmed you’re free, Shorty. So you might as well just say yes and accept my invitation graciously. You can exact your revenge by showing up looking sexier-than-fuck, like I know you will.”

  She swallowed thickly. His words. His commanding tone. His voice. His compliment. It all had her aching with a need for release, her panties already wet from her desire for him.

  “Damn, that bitch.” She hissed. She’d be having
a talk with her front admin staff about privacy as soon as she was done with Jax.

  He chuckled and she could hear the squeak of a chair, like he was leaning back at his office desk. She wondered if he was wearing a suit, and if his suit jacket was casually unbuttoned so that when he leaned back, his crisp white shirt stretched across his chest.

  “I’ll take that as your acquiesce and will pick you up at seven on Saturday. And if you really want to get back at me for roping you into this, just insist on not wearing any panties. Then tell me so as we head into the ballroom. I’ll be hard all night and unable to do a thing about it. Just like your sexy play the other day at the pool party.”

  She snorted, a very unladylike sound. But she really did like the idea of torturing him. It baited her naughty side. And the thought of giving him a case of blue balls had its merits. She liked knowing she had that kind of control over him.

  “Well, then, you can count on it.”

  Chapter Six

  It wasn’t the dress Jackson had expected Sasha to wear. He knew her well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t cater to the request he’d made asking her to wear the black little number he’d seen her in once before.

  But the dress she did choose was far more sexy. It was a fifteen on the Richter scale, and the seismic shift he felt beneath his feet when she opened the door of her brownstone nearly knocked him over.

  There was no question that Sasha Lee was a stunner and knew exactly how to bring a man to his knees with her wardrobe choices and style. She stood in front of him wearing a full-length, strapless evening gown in royal blue, with a black sequin-encrusted bodice and a slit up to the right thigh, her leg playing peek-a-boo with him.

  The dress accentuated every sweet, luscious curve of her body, and destroyed him with the way it cinched at her waist with a corset-like bust, revealing just enough skin of her dewy, fleshy breasts to make his mouth water.