More Than Physical (The Physical Series Book Book 2) (5 page)

“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 wanted 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.

“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.

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 understood 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?”