The Sweetest Jerk #1 (The Sweetest Jerk Series) Read online

  But his touch, coupled with his gaze, had me trembling. Wondering if he was about to do what I thought he was about to do.

  Right here.

  In the elevator.

  He dropped to his knees, his fingers still exploring. Stroking the line of my calves. Dancing over the curve of my hips. Skating toward my inner thigh.

  The hunger inside me had taken over and I hiked up my hem until it pooled just above my hips. Trading the slinky fabric for the chill of the air, kissing my bare skin.

  “God,” he groaned, feasting on me, on my body like he couldn’t believe that I was his.

  I was the one losing my mind because the last time a man was this close to touching me down there with his mouth, it was on my birthday.

  A special occasion.

  Jason was looking at me like he could do this every day...and it still wouldn’t be enough.

  I adjusted breathlessly, trying not to think about the fact that he knew the angle, knew just what to do, to the point it was clear this wasn’t his first rodeo. I felt his tongue, teasing my erotic flesh, bringing my body alive, and all rational thought ceased and I became the electricity that fired through my body as he made love to me with his mouth.

  His tongue caressed every part of me, sliding inside my wetness—then he went to work. I was gripping his hair, trying to grip my sanity until I finally stopped trying to control this and let go. Let him possess my body, exploding in a sea of profanity and pleasure when I realized that when he said he wanted to kiss me at midnight, he didn’t mean the lips on my face.

  He rose to his feet, my lust covering his mouth. Licking his lips, he braced himself, placing his palms on the wall behind me. He gazed at me like he was seeing me for the first time. Like he couldn’t take his eyes off me. I smiled and opened my mouth to say something that would make the moment last, but he whirled back to the control panel and disengaged the emergency brake.

  “I hope you didn’t mind, I just couldn’t wait to have you.”

  I was a mess, my skirt still up, my legs still quaking. “No...you...oh my-”

  “You’re quite delicious,” he cut in demurely, his eyes flashing with the allure of a night filled with pleasures beyond my wildest dreams.

  And then he leaned in and gave me the chastest kiss I’d ever had.

  Right on my forehead.

  “I’m going up for a bit,” he said abruptly, standing in front of me like we were complete strangers.

  It took my mind a minute to catch up to his meaning.

  I’m.

  I am.

  As in, not us.

  As in, we’re done?!

  I had too much pride to ask him to clarify, so I forced a smile onto my lips, like that was totally cool. Like he hadn’t just made me feel like the sexiest and most disposable woman he’d ever met, all in under thirty minutes.

  “That’s cool,” I eked out, steeling my spine for the rest of the ride.

  He was either oblivious or just cruel because he barely even waited for the doors to part before he bounded out of the elevator, tossing a ‘Happy New Year!’ over his shoulder.

  Shell shocked, I blinked at the chrome doors as they slid closed, tears turning them into molten silver.

  “Happy New Year,” I whispered to no one at all.

  Sticky, rejected, used, and alone on New Year’s Eve.

  By the time I stepped out of the elevator, I had a new resolution.

  No more jerks.

  *

  CHAPER ONE: NATALEE

  “I think I’m gonna jump the delivery guy’s bones.”

  My eyes bulged from my skull. If I hadn’t been using my bluetooth earpiece, I would have dropped my phone altogether, cementing the general consensus of everyone who’d been gawking at me during the awkward introductions. They’d eyeballed me like I’d burped instead of saying ‘nice to meet you’. Like I was a disgrace by even existing.

  But I had to pee.

  That was my first priority, navigating over and around the designer studded guests that barred my way to the aisle. None of the women looked like they were above a size 5 and the men were all country club lean, but they sat there like boulders decked out in stilettos and Rolexes. I was tempted to tell them about my tiny bladder, which always became microscopic when I was stressed, but they’d already politely scowled when the mother of the bride introduced me earlier. They’d be truly appalled if I shared the details of my important mission.

  Which brought me to my second priority, which was making sure my best friend, and usually competent assistant, would not go through with her threat.

  “Natalee, you’ve gotta see this guy,” she continued, trying to sell me on her proclamation. “He’s just my type-”

  “Which means he has a pulse?” I quipped, finally making it to the peony lined aisle. I tried to not take the glare the blonde at the end incinerated me with personally, since I may or may not have stepped on her toe. “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “No apologies necessary,” Tamara assured me with a sigh. “I can’t help myself. I must have been a dude in a past life.”

  “I wasn’t talking to-” I forced a smile on my face when I met the caffeinated gaze of the wedding planner, Jessie Stone. Her onyx brows drew together like she was debating whether or not she should give me the third degree about why I wasn’t in my seat with fifteen minutes until showtime, but she tilted her head away from me, having her own side conversation.

  I continued my own convo, trying to not move too quickly because I had my muscles down there on shaky lockdown. I still moved with a purpose because there was way too much riding on this event to become The Caterer Who Wet Her Pants. And speaking of those pants, choosing them had been a no-no from the stares I’d been getting, even though they were evening, palazzo pants that had cost me a small fortune, and I’d paired them with an even more expensive designer blouse.

  “Look, Tam, it’s bad enough that I’ve been judged by every one here and they haven’t even tasted the cupcakes yet-”

  “Fuck those rich bitches,” Tam proclaimed with all the crass, straight up, take no prisoners charm that drew me to her in the first place. Our sophomore year of college, she’d called out a fellow classmate who had the nerve to laugh at someone in the middle of their presentation. Tamara Reynolds didn’t tolerate bullying, then or now. “They wish they were half as awesome as you.”

  I came to a hard stop in the lobby, trying to remember if the bathrooms were downstairs or at the end of the corridor. “That’s sweet. Almost sweet enough to make me forget that I’m pissed at you.” My bladder twitched at my poor choice of words and I barreled down the staircase with a renewed sense of purpose. I remembered there was at least one (hopefully unoccupied) bathroom near the service entrance.

  “What did I do?” Tamara asked, feigning innocence. “I just commented that if the delivery man was down to barter-”

  “You asked me if it was cool to offer the delivery man your vagina in lieu of payment.”

  I picked up the pace, grateful that I was pretty much the only one in the hall. The only one that was thinking about bathrooms instead of wedding bells.

  The Mitchell Wedding was heralded as the most exclusive event of the year and my catering company, Madison Creations, had not only been chosen to cover the desserts, but the bride and I had bonded over cupcakes and she’d insisted that I come to the ceremony as well. So while Tamara offering sex instead of cash would save us some money, I had a feeling the wedding planner would lose her shit if one of her minions spotted Tamara and the delivery guy humping behind the cupcake display.

  “Just pay the guy and start setting up.”

  “But he has this tear drop tattoo beneath his eye-”

  “That means he’s killed someone, Tamara!” I let out the breath that I’d been holding when I saw the bathroom shining at the end of the hall.

  “Maybe it’s a heart and not a tear drop,” she mused hopefully. “I’m getting vibes from him. He’s definitely a lover, not a figh
ter.”

  Despite my best friend working my very last nerve, I couldn’t stop the smile from teasing my lips. “Don’t make me laugh! I’ve gotta pee so bad and I’m almost to the bathroom.”

  “Wait, isn’t the ceremony in a few minutes?” she asked, forgetting the fact that she’d called me, knowing full well I was probably sandwiched between socialites, waiting for ‘Here Comes The Bride’ when she called to ask for my permission to get her freak on. “Why didn’t you go earlier?”

  “Because I didn’t have to-” I stopped mid-explanation. “Look, you just handle the delivery. Without propositioning the delivery man.”

  I hung up on her before she tried to sell her case, knowing that she was mostly kidding. Her taste (or lack thereof) in men was definitely questionable, but she would never screw up an event. She’d been there with me from the start, when we were operating on a shoe string budget and wondering if we’d branch out beyond kid’s parties and making cookies for business meetings. After she revamped our website and we rocked out at a couple of food truck events in the city, our phone had been ringing off the hook. Our inbox was flooded with inquiries and orders to the point where I was going to have to hire an extra staff member just to keep up. And now with the Mitchell wedding, we’d be introduced to a whole new world of clients who would pay high dollar for our baked delights.

  We were gonna rock this event.

  First things first...

  I gripped the door knob, twisting it.

  Or tried to twist it, but it didn’t go anywhere.

  My heart sank when I realized it wasn’t budging because it was locked.

  The melodic soundtrack that hummed from the speakers attached to the walls may have muted my tell-tale jiggle, so I knocked on the door too so whomever was on the other side knew someone was waiting. After I announced myself, my knuckles lingered when I heard what sounded like...a laugh? High pitched, feminine, and definitely oblivious and unmoved by the gravity of my situation.

  So I knocked again.

  Harder.

  “O-One minute!” Even muffled, with the barrier of the door between us I knew that she wasn’t remotely interested in keeping that promise.

  I debated hunting down the other bathroom, but paused when a new set of sounds floated through the door.

  Slap.

  Slap.

  Like hands clapping.

  Followed by a low, pleading sound that reminded me of a moan.

  I reared back from the wood, my heart stalling in my chest.

  No way.

  She couldn’t be-

  “God, you feel good.”

  A different voice.

  Low...and definitely male.

  Someone was hooking up in the bathroom while I was out here holding it, trying to not overexcite myself or think about liquid or water or...wetness.

  I knocked again, my strikes insistent. I hated to be that person, but they needed to take the party elsewhere. “Excuse me, I need to-”

  “Oh my God!” The woman’s howl of pleasure shut me right on up and I took a step backward, almost tripping over a chair propped against the wall. There was a deep, secret part of me that was intrigued. Especially when the door thudded with a force that made me gasp. Like he’d lifted her up and slammed her against it. Finding the right angle before he...

  I bit my lip as I tugged at my necklace, heat flying to my cheeks. A different kind of tingle fluttered through my groin. I didn’t talk about sex 24/7 like Tamara, but I was no prude. After doing everything I was supposed to do, dating a nice guy, getting engaged, then getting dumped, I decided that I wouldn’t bother with love and would focus on my career. Get my kicks when I could. And it had been way too long since I had a guy who just took what he wanted, when he wanted. Who was ballsy enough to hook up in a bathroom.

  A bathroom I kinda needed to use.

  I pounded the door a third time, using my fists to help demonstrate how impatient I was getting. The answering jerks that vibrated through my hands made me wonder if the prick was just messing with me now. Teasing me.

  I glared at the door, officially way more annoyed than aroused, ready to drop kick the door or grab that chair and beat it down.

  Then the woman wailed.

  I was no screamer, but even the most quiet woman knew that sound. It was when you reached the point of no return. That dizzying moment where your world is turned inside out and your whole body sings with pleasure.

  It was a sound that made me want flee and find a different bathroom because how could I face them after-

  The door flew open and I came face to face with a thoroughly fucked bridesmaid. Her tulle skirt was all over the place, her pale hair a wild mess, her eyes drowsy with lust. She wore this naughty grin on her face. Gloating.

  She didn’t even bother with an apology, glancing over her shoulder at her partner. The man with the voice that reminded me of midnight and sweat and gripping bedsheets.

  “Shit! Jason, we’ve gotta go line up! Jessie is gonna murder us.”

  She practically plowed right through me, right to be afraid of Jessie because I’d already witnessed her make several of her staff members tear up.

  Now that the bridesmaid and fifty yards of tulle had left the room, my eyes shot to the next thing that was taking up space—a thick, bulging penis, that looked like it was just getting warmed up.

  I rounded the tip of it, swollen and glistening with the pleasure it had just given out in spades. Every veiny inch of it seemed to beckon me to come closer.

  It whispered, ‘your turn’.

  My hands flew to my face as I realized that this wasn’t some sort of fever dream. There was a real, live man who’d just fucked a real, live woman...and he was standing in front of me with his pants down. Holding the most delicious cock I’d ever seen. And-

  Wait.

  I peered out from behind the curtain of my fingers. Even if the bridesmaid hadn’t given it away with her parting words, the deep, charcoal hue of his tailored suit and the red carnation pinned to his lapel would have told me he was a groomsmen, but that wasn’t why I was staring.

  I never forget a face...and I’d seen his before.

  At first, I was sure it had to have been on a billboard. An advertisement for some hot, new thriller and he’d landed the starring role. To say he was good looking was being modest. He was the kinda man who’d make any woman stammer and blush. It was in the eyes, so deeply blue that you’d get lost if you weren’t careful. That you’d throw aside common sense, judgement, the whole kit and caboodle when those eyes met yours. It was in the angles, each one strong and powerful and more compelling that the last. Like he was sculpted by some artist, perfection in the flesh.

  And like the rest of him wasn’t alluring enough, the hair put the final nail in the coffin. It hung just long enough in the front that he had to push it back, only to have it dash back into those sea blue eyes. Eyes that sparkled with a smile that reached his lips and I felt like I’d pass out. Because I knew that mouth. Knew how those thick, soft and skilled lips felt against my skin.

  It just confirmed that the sinking feeling in my chest, like someone had reached inside me and snatched my heart to the pit of my stomach, was the right reaction.

  The uh oh reaction.

  The way I felt, completely out of control, completely out of sorts and yet so singularly desired that I wanted to move closer, like a moth to a flame?

  I’d only felt that way, that out of mind once before.

  It wasn’t the kind of feeling you forget.

  I knew who he was, the pieces all clicking into place before he even opened his mouth, so I did the honors.

  “YOU.” I stumbled back into the hall. Needing air. Needing space.

  Even though he’d put his weapon away, my body was betraying me. It was ready to forget that the last time our paths had crossed, this jerk had left quite the impression.

  His eyes, still tinged with wisps of lust, danced over my horrified face. “A voyeur, eh? That’s kind
a hot.”

  When he continued advancing toward me, I grabbed the chair I’d almost attacked the door with and held it out between us. “You stop right there, Jason.” His name rolled off my tongue, filled with history. Filled with all the angst from that night. A night where I’d thought things were finally looking up, only to be left disappointed on New Year’s Eve. Given the best kiss, the best tongue that I’d ever had down there...and then given the biggest diss I’d ever experienced.

  Jason was clearly a man who was used to doing the ordering, but he obeyed, stopping in the doorway when I said his name. I thought I looked pretty fearsome with the chair and the crazy eyes, but he leaned against the door jamb with the ease of a man who wasn’t afraid of much.

  The silence between us was heavy with memories and my heart raised ever so slightly as his aqua colored eyes narrowed and I could see the gears working. I thought overhearing a pre-wedding hook up was my surprise, but was he about to apologize for what happened between us?

  “We’ve met, haven’t we?” he asked, his tone hesitant. A little less confident than it had been a moment ago.

  I angrily tossed said chair, the clang of it radiating through me. Emboldening my rage. “You could say that.”

  He blinked at me from behind those sexy hooded eyelashes. He was making it hard to stay mad at him, but I’d be damned if I wouldn’t try.

  “Shayla, right? From the rehearsal dinner?”

  I regretted not hitting him with the chair.

  I regretted not telling him to take a hike when we’d first met and I definitely regretted not telling him to go to hell when I saw his face just now.

  He didn’t remember me at all.

  He cringed, realizing that he’d screwed up. “Oh! Uh, I mean-”

  “Get out of my way,” I growled, not even looking at him. Looking right through him. It was harder than I’d ever admit, ignoring the existence of one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. A man that had seen and tasted secret, naked parts of me.

  He wisely dodged out of my path, but he still tried to cover his ass. “I said Shayla, but I meant-”

  I slammed the door in his face, my chest heaving up and down.