Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2)
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Authors: Andrea Simonne
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Return of the Jerk
By Andrea Simonne
Copyright © 2015 Andrea Simonne
All rights reserved. Published by Liebe Publishing
First Electronic Edition, September 17, 2015
Edited by
Hot Tree Editing
Interior Design and Formatting by
Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
Cover Copyright © Katie Little Fotolia.com
© Ryan Christensen istock.com
Cover Design © by LBC Graphics
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author.
Publisher’s Note:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Liebe Publishing
Table of Contents
BLAIR MOANS SOFTLY.
Desire spirals through her as his hand glides slowly over her breast and down her stomach, caressing, moving lower until his fingers are brushing between her thighs. She knows what he wants. He loves to tease, loves to watch her arch into him, and she loves to give him what he wants as her thighs fall open for him, granting access.
“Perfect,” he says, his voice rumbling with approval. “So perfect.”
His body is warm and powerful at her side where she’s tucked into him, his cock hard against her hip.
Blair gasps when his fingers slide home. So good. Passion takes hold, gripping her, turning her inside out.
“Please,” she whispers, trying to reach for him. “Just this once.”
His muscular arms keep her still.
“But why?”
There’s no reply.
He’s breathing hard, though. Unsteady. Blair can hear it and knows he’s excited, too. It’s the same every time. He drives her crazy, drives her to the edge until she’s begging him to take her, but still he won’t.
She turns her head to see his face in the moonlight. The room is dark, but she can see him clearly. His familiar features. The ones she fell in love with the first time she saw him. That knowing smile. But it’s his eyes that grab her attention and always have, like the sun shining through stained glass. Golden-green.
“You want me,” he whispers. His fingers tease again, bringing her pleasure as they deny her everything. “And you always will.”
“Fuck.” Blair opens her eyes as morning light streams through her bedroom window, her body still humming with arousal. She rarely swears, but she’s had enough.
Five years.
That’s how long it’s been since she’s seen Road. Five long years. And yet these dreams are plaguing her like a song stuck on repeat.
I should divorce him.
Any sane woman would have divorced him right after he left their four-month marriage. Abandoned her. Just packed his stuff and left one day. No goodbye. Just a short note left on her pillow with a simple ‘this isn’t working for me.’ And he’s never looked back. She always tells people they were together a year because the truth is too embarrassing.
Nathan ‘Road’ Church didn’t want her. Not at all.
But whatever. She’s over him. Water under the bridge, as they say. It’s not like she hasn’t had her share of boyfriends since then because she’s dated plenty, though none of them have been serious. If someone serious
did
come along, she’d divorce Road in a second. Of course, she’d have to find him first. Last she heard, he was in Budapest doing God knows what, and before that it was Thailand, and before that, India. Her best friend, Tori, is his sister and despite Blair’s standing order that they never discuss Road, occasionally information on his whereabouts slips through.
Not that I care. I’ve definitely moved on.
She pretends he doesn’t exist and, for the most part, is successful. If it weren’t for these tormenting dreams!
Blair shoves the covers back, checks her phone and sees it’s almost seven. Normally, she’d be at La Dolce Vita, the bakery she co-owns with her business partner, Natalie, but it’s her day off. They moved to a new location recently, had a write-up in
Seattle Magazine
, and as a result, business is booming. Blair’s wedding cakes are more in demand than ever.
I’m going to call Mia today and tell her to put the paperwork through.
Mia is her divorce lawyer, the one she hired right after Road left. She had Mia draw up divorce papers, but then Blair changed her mind and told Mia to forget it. The month after that, she called Mia and told her to go through with the divorce, but then Blair changed her mind again. She usually calls once or twice a year, changing her mind every time.
I’ve been too busy, that’s all.
Blair goes over to her closet, where her clothes are neatly organized by type and color. She grabs a pair of black track pants and a white University of Washington T-shirt to slip on, pulling her auburn hair back into a high ponytail so she can go for a run.
Her condo is on Eastlake in Seattle, and she loves the eclectic neighborhood. There are shops, cafés, and historic buildings. She bought it three years ago when the market was low, and as a result was able to afford a corner unit with a view of Lake Union. Her run takes her all the way down to the water near the colorful houseboats and by the time she makes it there, she’s breathless and dripping with sweat.
Her iPod blasts “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” by The Supremes as she walks back up the sidewalk to cool down.
Near the front of her building, she notices a strange guy sitting by the entrance—some kind of bum wearing disheveled clothes. He’s sporting chin-length blond hair, his head bent as he studies his phone. This is generally a safe neighborhood, but Blair is still cautious living in the city.
Is he waiting for somebody?
She wonders if she should say something to him. The front entrance is always kept locked, but what if he tries to slip in behind her? As she moves closer, she notices his jeans and shirt are wrinkled, but even sitting down, she can tell he’s tall and broad-shouldered.
Maybe he’s not a bum. In truth, he’s kind of hot.
When she’s a few feet away, he suddenly looks up and Blair’s heart stops. The Supremes are still playing. Diane Ross’s sweet voice soars as all the blood rushes to Blair’s head and her stomach drops.
His eyes are golden-green.
Staring in shock, Blair rips her earbuds out.
“Road?” she breathes.
“Princess.” He grins at her.
She can’t speak. Adrenaline rockets through her as she watches him get up from where he’s sitting. There’s a beat-up leather backpack next to him which he swings onto his shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” she finally manages to say.
“Just flew in this morning.”
Blair’s eyes roam over him, taking in his gray T-shirt and faded jeans before settling on his face again. He looks different, but weirdly the same, too.
“Why?” she asks, dumbfounded.
And suddenly it’s like the first time she ever saw him. Back when she was a quiet thirteen-year-old, the new kid who kind-hearted Tori befriended and invited over one afternoon. Tori lived in a small rambler on a rundown street. The garage door was open and motorcycles were parked in the driveway. Older teenagers were playing Frisbee in the front yard while Van Halen’s “Running with the Devil” blasted from the stereo. The Frisbee landed at Blair’s feet and when she picked it up, the most breathtaking guy she’d ever seen in her life loped over to pluck it from her hand. “That’s my brother, Road,” Tori said dismissively. “He’s a tenth-grader.” Road grinned at her, those golden-green eyes flashing, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, and Blair’s entire world shifted on its axis.
