More Than Physical (The Physical Series Book Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: Sierra Hill
while their sex was off-the-charts, they were not relationship material.
In everything else that mattered, they butted heads, were complete opposites, and argued incessantly about anything and everything.
Case in point. Sasha liked her Margaritas extra salty. Jackson hated Margaritas.
She was a wild-child, and loved the party scene. He was a loner in his downtime, enjoying the comforts of small bars with their live music over a techno-dance club.
She was loud, brash and opinionated about politics, art, music and even which sunscreen products were better for you than others.
He was soft-spoken, chill and enjoyed a Corona on the beach with a good book. No sunscreen required.
She was expected to marry a nice, well-to-do man from an up-standing Jewish family someday in the future. He had vowed to never get married.
To they were opposite in every way that mattered was an understatement.
They argued.
They clashed.
They drove each other crazy.
But that one night, when they’d been the only two left on the beach, finishing off the bottle of Tequila they shared, laying on the soft, cool sand looking up at the stars, talking and laughing over dirty jokes, their inhibitions lost – well, things happened that still made his dick stir just thinking about it.
Jackson cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his pants, which suddenly tented against his zipper at the memories, and returned his attention to the email sitting in his inbox. The subject line had his interest piqued, an innuendo that only Sasha could deliver.
To: Jackson Koda, ESQ.
From: Sasha M. Lee, MD, Lee & Associates
Date: August 28, 2015
RE: Let’s Get the Party Started
Hey Rowdy,
How’s it hanging? Oh wait, I already know the answer to that question. Silly me. No need to dredge up old memories. Anyway, on to the purpose of this email.
As you know, you’ve been selected as Best Man to my Maid of Honor status (God, how I hate that term. I’d prefer Best Woman, because as you already know, I am the fucking best). So as such, it is our duty to plan the co-ed bachelor and bachelorette parties. In other words, we have been tapped to ensure a wild, crazy night of drinking and cavorting where Mitch and Rylie will totally forget everything about the night in their drunken states, only to remember that they had the best fucking time ever!
While I think it’s abso-fucking-lutely lame that they want a combined party, I figure we can still make it strippers, pole dancing and a sex-themed carnival of sorts with lots and lots of dildos. You in?
Let’s do lunch next week so we can make plans. Give me a holler. Oh, I guess there’s a good chance I might see you at Mitch and Rylie’s on Monday for their inaugural Labor Day BBQ. We can talk then, too.
Cheers,
Sasha
Jackson groaned loudly as he reread the email. Did he mention that Sasha was brash and had the biggest potty-mouth of any woman he’d ever met? She could even make a sailor blush over the number of F-bombs she dropped on a regular basis. And the email in front of him was nothing out of the ordinary for her.
He shook his head thinking of some of the women he’d dated over the years. All refined, elegant, uptight, and far too sophisticated to utter such a degrading word. Sasha was nothing like those women. And he liked her all the more for it, which pissed him off.
Returning his attention to the email, his eyes ran over the subject matter again, his jaw flexing at the obvious digs she’d gotten in, alluding to their night together. He knew his assistant Casey had likely read through it already. If he were easily embarrassed, he’d be blushing beet red at the moment.
The fact that she even addressed him as Rowdy, the nickname she’d given him because according to her, he was anything but rowdy, had him fisting his hands on the desk. It pissed him off because she knew so little about him. Sasha made an immediate judgment about him because of his profession, yet knew very little about who he
In everything else that mattered, they butted heads, were complete opposites, and argued incessantly about anything and everything.
Case in point. Sasha liked her Margaritas extra salty. Jackson hated Margaritas.
She was a wild-child, and loved the party scene. He was a loner in his downtime, enjoying the comforts of small bars with their live music over a techno-dance club.
She was loud, brash and opinionated about politics, art, music and even which sunscreen products were better for you than others.
He was soft-spoken, chill and enjoyed a Corona on the beach with a good book. No sunscreen required.
She was expected to marry a nice, well-to-do man from an up-standing Jewish family someday in the future. He had vowed to never get married.
To they were opposite in every way that mattered was an understatement.
They argued.
They clashed.
They drove each other crazy.
But that one night, when they’d been the only two left on the beach, finishing off the bottle of Tequila they shared, laying on the soft, cool sand looking up at the stars, talking and laughing over dirty jokes, their inhibitions lost – well, things happened that still made his dick stir just thinking about it.
Jackson cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his pants, which suddenly tented against his zipper at the memories, and returned his attention to the email sitting in his inbox. The subject line had his interest piqued, an innuendo that only Sasha could deliver.
To: Jackson Koda, ESQ.
From: Sasha M. Lee, MD, Lee & Associates
Date: August 28, 2015
RE: Let’s Get the Party Started
Hey Rowdy,
How’s it hanging? Oh wait, I already know the answer to that question. Silly me. No need to dredge up old memories. Anyway, on to the purpose of this email.
As you know, you’ve been selected as Best Man to my Maid of Honor status (God, how I hate that term. I’d prefer Best Woman, because as you already know, I am the fucking best). So as such, it is our duty to plan the co-ed bachelor and bachelorette parties. In other words, we have been tapped to ensure a wild, crazy night of drinking and cavorting where Mitch and Rylie will totally forget everything about the night in their drunken states, only to remember that they had the best fucking time ever!
While I think it’s abso-fucking-lutely lame that they want a combined party, I figure we can still make it strippers, pole dancing and a sex-themed carnival of sorts with lots and lots of dildos. You in?
Let’s do lunch next week so we can make plans. Give me a holler. Oh, I guess there’s a good chance I might see you at Mitch and Rylie’s on Monday for their inaugural Labor Day BBQ. We can talk then, too.
Cheers,
Sasha
Jackson groaned loudly as he reread the email. Did he mention that Sasha was brash and had the biggest potty-mouth of any woman he’d ever met? She could even make a sailor blush over the number of F-bombs she dropped on a regular basis. And the email in front of him was nothing out of the ordinary for her.
He shook his head thinking of some of the women he’d dated over the years. All refined, elegant, uptight, and far too sophisticated to utter such a degrading word. Sasha was nothing like those women. And he liked her all the more for it, which pissed him off.
Returning his attention to the email, his eyes ran over the subject matter again, his jaw flexing at the obvious digs she’d gotten in, alluding to their night together. He knew his assistant Casey had likely read through it already. If he were easily embarrassed, he’d be blushing beet red at the moment.
The fact that she even addressed him as Rowdy, the nickname she’d given him because according to her, he was anything but rowdy, had him fisting his hands on the desk. It pissed him off because she knew so little about him. Sasha made an immediate judgment about him because of his profession, yet knew very little about who he
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