by Jackie Wang
LANDLADY
A New Adult Romance
(Northbridge Nights #1)
~
JACKIE WANG
Copyright 2016 Jackie Wang. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and incidents are all products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual facts is purely coincidental.
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Landlady
Cover Design & Interior Formatting by Jackie Wang
Cover photo: Copyright 2016 Kiuikson at DepositPhotos
Edited and Proofread by Dominique Scott
ABOUT
ASHER
From the feisty curve of her hips to the delicious curve of her lips, there isn't a single inch of her I don't like. Too bad she’s my landlady, and completely off-limits.
If I don’t play nice, I might find myself evicted.
I don't want to play nice, though. Not one bit.
I wish I wasn't so drawn to Sierra Maywood's country girl charms and feisty attitude...but I am.
I wish I didn't fantasize about her taste, her smell, and her touch 24/7...but I do.
In short, I'm f*cked.
SIERRA
He’s the type of cocky bastard who thinks he can get away with murder. Perfect hair, chocolate eyes, sculpted body—we get it, you’re smoking hot. But just because you’re also a rich, successful lawyer, doesn’t mean I’ll jump into bed with you.
Asher Morgan is a certified egomaniac. He also happens to live with me in the house I inherited from my grandma.
I wish he wasn't a walking piece of smoking hot temptation...but he is.
I wish his penetrating gaze and easy smile didn't churn my insides...but it does.
It'll take every last ounce of my self-restraint to resist him.
This is going to be one long summer.
~
Northbridge Nights is a series of standalone romances featuring a close-knit group of friends living in Northbridge City. Each novel can be read in more or less any order.
*Did You Know?* All my contemporary romances feature interconnecting characters. In Landlady, Asher Morgan is Vanessa and Lexi Holdom's (from Love Affair in Venice) lawyer.
A New Adult Romance for Mature Readers Only
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
OTHER BOOKS
PROLOGUE
ASHER
FACE DOWN, ASS UP, panties on the ground.
What's your favorite position? Whatever it is, I'm game. I can go for hours, multiple rounds, and if you're not screaming my name by the end of the night, I'm not doing my job right.
I love pleasuring women of all shapes and sizes. Against the wall, on the table, under the stars—just say the word and I'm there. I like to make magic—sinful, orgasmic magic. Simple as that.
Over the years, I've mastered the art of sex. A couple licks here, a few nips there, and the girl is writhing between my legs. When I whip out my cock, she's putty at my feet. When I put it inside her, she's gone. Sheet-twisting, back-arching, moaning, aching—gone.
Drunk on euphoria, she'll see fucking stars by the time I'm through with her.
Women aren't hard to figure out. They think about sex and want it just as much as men do. They just aren’t as openly vocal about it. Beneath some of the most innocent-looking exteriors, I've discovered the kinkiest of sex goddesses. The harder they tease, the harder I play, until one or both of us surrenders to intoxicating oblivion.
I love bringing my women to sexual paradise. There's nothing like watching a woman's face as her body bridges pure rapture. It's primal. It's raw. It's unadulterated bliss—the best kind there is. Female orgasms are my drug. Often, my need to give pleasure supersedes my need to receive. I'd much rather watch my partner climax over and over instead of spoiling the fun by quitting early. If being too selfless in bed is a crime, then by all means, arrest me.
Sex is great. Sex is fucking awesome. I hope I keep hitting home runs until I'm a fucking sixty-year-old silver fox. But lately I've been thinking, is this all there is? Or is there something else I'm missing in my life? I mean, this can't be it—it's fun, sure, addictive, God yes, but sex alone isn't fulfilling my needs anymore.
I think I'm missing out on something—something big.
What is it? Intimacy? Love?
God knows I want to find it.
But where do I start looking?
Obviously, I've searched between the sheets and come up empty.
Where to next?
Then I meet one Sierra Maywood, and she obliterates everything I've ever known about women. She is unlike anyone I've ever met.
This is our story.
CHAPTER 1
SIERRA
“SHE LEFT ME EVERYTHING.”
“What do you mean, Sisi?” Callista asked, sinking next to me on the sofa.
“Grandma Beatty left me everything she had,” I repeated, letting the words sink in. “In her will.”
“Why do you sound so surprised? You two were close. She loved you more than anything,” Callista pointed out.
I tried to force down the lump in my throat. “I don't deserve it. If anything, the house should go to Jordan. He's older than me.”
Callista scoffed. “Leave it to your good-for-nothing brother so he can piss it all away on booze and cigarettes? Get real.”
“Still,” I sighed. “Jordan will kill me once he finds out.”
“Did you tell your parents yet?”
I bit my fingernails, chipping the nail polish I'd just put on yesterday. “We're not exactly on speaking terms.”
“Oh no, what is it now?”
“Same old spiel. Dad wants me to come work on the farm this summer. I said no.”
Callista frowned. “He's still trying to convince you that shoveling shit and feeding the chickens is more rewarding than slaving away as a seamstress in the city?”
I nodded. “He reiterated that college was 'a complete waste of money' and that I'd be up to my eyeballs in debt just for a piece of paper to hang on the wall.”
Callista sighed. “Harsh.”
“That's not even the half of it,” I said. “Every time I call my parents I get an earful. I'm sick of it. Even my mom's starting to have d
oubts.”
“I believe in you Sierra. That counts for something, right?” Callista smiled and squeezed my hand. After a pause, she added, “Do you want to talk about your grandma?”
I gave her a half-smile. “I'm okay. Almost relieved I guess. Grandma suffered for a long time. She's finally pain-free now.” Grandma Beatty had been battling ALS for two years before a stroke last month finally ended her suffering. I was grateful that she was in a better place now.
“I'm always here if you want to talk,” Callista offered.
“Thanks, Cally. You're the only person I can really count on.” I stood up to check on the pizza. As soon as I opened the oven door, the dorm kitchen filled with the scent of greasy meat. Burnt greasy meat. “Shit, I ruined dinner,” I said, turning on the range hood and opening the window. Fat, smoky tendrils curled up towards the ceiling and I coughed.
Callista laughed. “How do you always manage to burn frozen dinners?”
Within seconds, the blaring smoke alarm assaulted our ears. I tossed Callista a magazine and she started fanning the beeping nightmare affixed to the ceiling.
I turned off the oven, pulled out the charred Pepperoni Deluxe and dumped it in the compost bin. “So...Mickey D's?” I suggested.
“Only if you're buying,” Callista said, already grabbing her purse.
“Okay, but only because the oven gods hate me,” I replied, smirking. “One day I'll learn how to cook, I swear.”
+++
Two days later, I said my final farewells to Sage Hall, the squalid, beige building I'd lived in for the past year.
“You sure you've got all your stuff?” Callista asked, nodding to the five boxes in her trunk and backseat.
“I'm not a hoarder like you,” I teased. “That's everything.”
Callista stuck out her tongue. “I'm not a hoarder, I'm an avid collector of fine things.”
It took twenty-five minutes to drive from campus to Grandma's house. I hadn't been there in almost four months, so I was eager to see it again, despite everything. When we finally pulled up, both Callista and I gawked at the mansion before us. Well, it wasn't really a mansion but compared to the tiny dorm rooms I'd lived in for the past three years, this was a huge upgrade.
Grandma's home, or should I say, my new home, was a revamped Victorian mansion, complete with a steep, gabled roof, iron details and large bay windows. There was also a generous wraparound front porch decorated with hanging planters and a wicker patio set. Grandma had always been a cheerful woman who loved bold, bright colors. The house reflected that in its pastel green siding and cheerful yellow front door.
“Well, this is it,” I said, “what do you think?”
“It's adorable. I love it.” Callista beamed. “It oozes character and charm. I wish I knew your grandma. I think we would've gotten along splendidly.”
I bit my lip. “Yeah, I wish you'd met her too. She was such a vibrant, lively woman. You know, before she got sick.”
“C'mon, let's bring your stuff inside.” Callista popped open the trunk of her car, and we each grabbed a box.
We hiked up the front steps (thank God there were only six) and set the boxes down by the door. I pulled out my keys.
“Do you think I should've checked it out before packing up my stuff?” I asked. “What if the place is a disaster?”
“Too late now,” Callista said. “We're already here. Don't worry, we'll take care of it. I can help you clean.”
I nodded and jammed the pink key into the lock. Yes, Grandma's keys were color-coded: pink for the front door and blue for the back. Neon green for the garage. There were a few other keys which I assumed were probably for the rooms inside.
“Home sweet home,” I mumbled, pushing open the door. It creaked a little.
Callista poked her head inside. “Everything is immaculate. You were worried for nothing.” She picked up her box and stepped inside. I followed suit.
Callista was right. The place was spotless. I was half-dreading that I'd have to clean up months-old kitty litter or rotten food from the kitchen. But by the looks of it, everything was in pristine condition. Even cleaner than I remember. The main floor's layout was still the same, but the furniture and décor seemed different. And Grandma was never this neat, was she?
“Where do you want this box Sisi? And where's the bathroom? I need to pee so bad,” Callista said.
“Just leave it in the living room for now until I figure out where to put everything. There's an ensuite through the master bedroom there,” I said, pointing.
Callista set down her box and looked around. “I'm so jealous—this place is great! Can I move in with you?”
I laughed and put down my box as well. “Callista, you live in a fancy condo downtown. Why would you give up that lifestyle for an older, suburban home?”
“So we could be roomies,” she said, heading towards the bedroom. “What, I'm not good enough to be your roommate?”
“You're such a—”
“—Who the hell are you?” a baritone voice asked. “And what are you doing in my house?”
Callista shot me a look of panic. “What the hell?” she mouthed.
I shrugged my shoulders, just as confused as she was. I couldn't have gotten the wrong house: I'd just opened the front door with my own key.
“Who's there?” I asked, backing up. “You—You're trespassing on my property. If you don't show yourself, I'm going to call the cops.”
“I should be the one calling the cops,” the voice came again. “You still haven't answered my question. What are you doing in my house?”
Callista puffed out her chest and shot back, “This isn't your house, asshole. This house belongs to Sierra. And before that, it was her grandmother's.”
“What do you mean?” the voice asked, sounding a bit confused.
I spoke up. “I just inherited this house from my grandma, who passed away last month,” I explained. “Now please tell me who the hell you are.”
Shuffling footsteps.
Finally, a face to the voice.
I looked up, and my gaze fell on a set of smooth, wide lips, curled into a smile. Then a strong, chiseled jaw covered in the perfect amount of stubble. A pair of hazel eyes greeted me with dark intensity.
I tried to speak but choked on my words.
Callista nudged me in the ribs. “Hottie alert.”
I swallowed hard. The man was wearing a ribbed tank and plaid boxers. Items that showcased his toned physique. I couldn't help but also notice the slight bulge between his legs. He didn't seem the least bit bothered by my poorly disguised gawking. “I rent this house. My name's Asher Morgan,” the man said, coming closer. “I'm sorry about your grandmother. I had no idea she'd passed.” He was close now. Close enough that I could smell his spicy scent and study his taut biceps.
You've got to be kidding me. A tenant?
“Grandma rented out her house...to you?” I asked.
This was not happening.
“Is there something wrong with me?” Asher asked. “I always pay the rent on time, and I keep this place spotless.”
“Sorry, I just meant—well—you see...I just inherited this house. I was planning on moving in today. I have nowhere else to go. My other lease expired.”
“You didn't think to check out the house before you packed up your worldly belongings?” Asher laughed. “Are you always so careless?”
I furrowed my brows. Me? Careless? “I was too busy with final exams and, you know, burying my grandma,” I snapped. “Not that you'd understand. Apparently you don't have a single sensitive bone in your body.”
Asher stiffened. “I didn't mean to be rude. Would you two like something to drink?”
Yeah, right.
“No thanks, we were just leaving,” I shot out, body feeling red hot. I didn't have the energy to deal with this right now. Who the hell did he think he was, criticizing me when he didn't even know me?
I was exhausted from packing all day. The last thing I expected wa
s to find someone already living in my new home. How messed up was that? I couldn't believe Grandma never mentioned this to me. Now I looked like an impulsive idiot. A clueless, impulsive idiot.
“Well, don't you want to collect this month's rent first, Ms...Landlady?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Fine, you can live here for one more month, then I'm moving in, got it?”
Pressing an envelope into my hand, Asher smirked. “That's not exactly how it works, sweetheart. I have a twelve-month lease on this place. And I happen to love it here.”
“Well as your new landlady, I want you out by the end of this month,” I demanded. “This is my home now. I need a place to stay ASAP.”
“If you're evicting me, you'll need to give me formal written notice and one month's rent.”
Damn this guy knew his tenancy rights!
I stared up at him (he was at least a foot taller than me) and asked, “Fine, how much is one month's rent?”
“Two-thousand dollars.”
“Are you fricking kidding me?”
Asher shook his head. “Nope. Look in the envelope.”
I peeked inside, and sure enough, I found a cheque for $2000. I swallowed hard. I wasn't going to pay this jerk two grand just to leave. I was already up to my eyeballs in debt, and everything in my bank account was used to pay bills and keep me afloat while I earned my degree.
I bit the inside of my cheek and did some quick math. Two thousand bucks times twelve months...that was twenty-four thousand dollars! Holy shit! I was rich! This rental income alone would cover my full tuition for the next year, plus I'd be able to pay off some of my student loans to boot. And since the house was mortgage-free, I wouldn't need to worry about paying the bank.
Maybe this Asher Morgan wasn't such bad news after all.
I tried to keep my cool, but my insides were churning.
Maybe having a tenant was a blessing in disguise. I didn't need to live in this big house. I could always move back to the dorms and come here once a month to collect some pretty sweet cash.
I felt Callista tug on my sleeve. “What are we doing, Sisi? Are we going or staying?” Then in a lower voice, she added, “My bladder's about to explode.”
I suddenly realized I'd been quiet for a while. “Going,” I announced. “We're definitely going.” I turned to Asher. “Thanks, err...for the rent.”