No Touch Zone (Saints of Love Book 2)

by Elizabeth Perry

  The second that he told me his news, it became open mic night at the trap house. I said a lot of things that I’m not proud of and I called him every horrible name that I could think of. When I ran out of evil things to say to him, I pulled that stupid ring off of my finger, chucking it right at his face. I then stormed off, with my middle finger flying high in the air, growling over my shoulder that I never wanted to see him again.

  Just like that, I went from being engaged to being single. I also lost every shot that I had at following my dream, which is the hardest pill to swallow. I hopped on the first flight home, which is how I got stuck here, in Chicago, on my layover, in the middle of a blizzard.

  Running into Jude Masters is just salt in the wound at this point, one that I don’t care to give any more thought to. But someone else in my life has other ideas, and as my brother’s demanding voice booms over the phone at me, I just about lose my shit. For the second time today.

  “You will be staying with Jude, Willow. I cannot get you a room anywhere in the city. Trust me, baby girl, I’ve tried, but do you know how many people are stranded there? It’s just not happening.”

  “I am not staying in the same hotel room as Jude Masters.” There is no fucking way I’m caving on that. I roll my eyes into the phone and signal to the bartender to pour me another drink. “I have less of a chance of contracting diseases by sleeping on the airport floor, Wyatt.”

  He starts in on another rant, so I pull the phone away from my ear.

  The bartender smiles at me, and I smile back. He’s actually kind of cute and seems harmless. Maybe he has a room that he’d rent out to me for the night. Bunking with a stranger seems like a safer bet than bunking with my brother’s slut bag teammate, Jude.

  I don’t really think that Jude’s a bad guy, but he’s not a great guy, either. When my brother has a party, and the women are at our house, you can bet that Jude is on his way, or is already there, holing himself away with one to three of them at a time.

  It’s disgusting.

  He’s the exact definition of a male player. A male slut. A horny motherfucker with zero standards and no inhibitions. He makes no excuses and owns who he is, but that doesn’t mean that I want to be in a room with him alone.

  That’s a hard pass.

  A big hand reaches across me, making my head snap quickly. Jude Masters has now settled himself next to me and has snatched my phone right out of my hand.

  “Wyatt?” His voice is like nails on a chalkboard as he smirks at me and listens intently to my really pissed of older brother.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got her, man. I promise. I’ll stick to her tonight like herpes. Yeah, yup. There’ll be no getting rid of me.”

  Great fucking analogy, Jude.

  “Congratulations, sweetheart.” He slides my phone across the bar to me, and then leans over, clinking his beer against my glass. “I’m your blister tonight.”

  That is precisely why I cannot stand the guy.

  “There is only one bed.” I want to stomp my feet and scream up at God. Why me? What did I ever do so wrong as to deserve this?

  This being, an insanely small hotel room, with only one damn bed.

  It isn’t even a bed big enough that we could each pick a side and put red tape down the middle. Nope, that can’t happen. It’s a full size bed, at best.

  “It’ll be fine.” Jude rocks back on his heels. “I’ll take the pull out couch, Willow. You can have the bed.”

  The pullout couch can’t be very big, since the couch, per say, is really just an oversized chair. But I appreciate that Jude is willing to lay his big body on a tiny bed for my sake. I hate to admit it, but Jude is being a lot nicer to me than I deserve right now.

  I don’t even want to know how much he paid for this shitty room. I’m sure for him, the price tag is a mere drop in the bucket, but I overheard some other stranded travelers complaining that they were auctioning off the last few rooms for thousands of dollars over what they would normally go for.

  Some people will do anything to make a buck. They need to get right with God.

  But not Jude. I mean, he has a definite disgusting side, but he also has a decent side, too. I should be more appreciative of the fact that he has stepped in to save me today. Even though, he’s only doing it for my brother.

  It’s probably just all of the alcohol talking, making me think kindly of the man who, just a few weeks ago, I witnessed motorboating a woman’s breasts like he was a baby suckling for milk.

  I shudder at the memory.

  “That’s really nice, Jude, but I should take the pull out couch. This is your room. You should get the bed.”

  “Nah.” He immediately waves me off. “I’m meant for it, Willow. I’m the king of pull out.”

  Here I was, trying to think positively about the guy, and then, he opens his mouth. I glance up at the ceiling, hoping that God is looking down on me and has witnessed me trying to give Jude the benefit of the doubt. Then he went and wrecked it, per usual.

  “On that note, I’m going downstairs to the bar. If I’m going to be stuck here with you for the night, I’m going to need to be very intoxicated to tolerate you.”

  “Words hurt, Willow!” he calls after me, but if any cruder words left his lips, I didn’t hear them. The door slammed shut just in the nick of time.

  3

  Jude

  Dear fucking God, I can’t even believe that this is happening right now. As Willow’s hands fist into my hair, and she pulls my lips back onto hers, I swear that I almost come right in my pants.

  Almost. I mean, I’m not a one pump chump or anything, but damn.

  Her shirt has already been pulled over her head and tossed in the hallway aimlessly, along with my shirt and my pants. She started pulling my clothes off of me before the elevator doors even opened onto our floor and was in my arms with her legs wrapped around my waist by the time that I set foot in the hallway.

  The little voice in my head is telling me to stop, but the bad voice is a lot fucking louder and has taken total control of my body.

  How we got here, well, you can ask the bottle of tequila that we drank together in the bar. By the time we poured ourselves into the elevator, the air was as hot and thick between us as the erection threatening to break through the fabric of my pants.

  I’m not sure who even made the first move. We were both standing there, panting and staring at each other, and then everything shifted. That’s when our clothes started falling off, and Willow began dry humping me, with her legs wrapped tightly around my waist as I walked/ran with her in my arms towards our room.

  I fumble with the card, until finally, the lock clicks and the door opens. I set Willow down just long enough to shut and lock the door, but when I turn around, I find her on her knees in front of me, pulling down the last bit of clothing that I have left on me, grabbing my throbbing shaft into her hand, and licking her sweet tongue down my skin, like a lollipop.

  I feel like I should pinch myself. After all of these years, and all of the dirty fantasies that I’ve had of this woman, she’s playing them all out perfectly. I know that she’s drunk, too drunk to be thinking clearly, but I’m in the same boat, so I relax against the door and let the feeling of her mouth on me send me to my happy place.

  I want to watch her, nearly naked and on her knees in front of me, but I can’t. the sight of her will certainly bring this entire performance to a close, and I have every intention of letting myself feel just how fucking tight and sweet Willow is.

  The thought alone is enough to do me in, so without wasting any more time, I reach down and pick Willow up, loving the way that she growls as my dick pops out of her mouth.

  “I wasn’t done,” she groans, grabbing me into her hand and stroking me tightly.

  “And I’m just getting started.” My lips crash back onto hers. I lift her easily before laying her on the bed. The sight of Willow laying before me, in just her panties and bra, is a sight that should be captured and stored in my
memory forever. I really hope that my drunk brain can remember what this looks like, but the small part of my rational mind that hasn’t been killed off by tequila knows better.

  Fuck it. Whether I can remember it or not, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it.

  I spread her legs apart and let my fingers trace her sex. She’s so wet for me, so damn slick and ready. I want to lay here and continue to touch her everywhere, but even I know that I can’t do that. I’m already too close to bursting.

  “I want to fuck you now, Willow.”

  “Yes.” She moans against me. “Yes, Jude. Yes.”

  Without any further ado, I grab myself into my hands, settle my body against hers, and slide inside to the place where happiness lies.

  4

  Willow

  Oh my god.

  I sit up in bed fast as a thick arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back down. A wave of nausea hits me first, right before pure disgust settles in. All that it takes is one glance at the man currently in bed with me, naked in bed with me at that, for me to want to fucking end it all, right now.

  I had sex with Jude!

  I had sex with Jude?

  I had a lot of sex with Jude.

  That’s when I scream. I pull the covers off and shoot out of bed. The room spins, but I don’t care. Jude’s sleepy eyes focus on mine, and at first, a slow, easy smile spreads across his lips. It’s short lived, though. Because in the next instant, he too remembers exactly what we did last night. That’s when his entire face pales.

  Regret fills his beautiful features, at the same time that my stomach turns. I barely make it to the bathroom before I lose the entire contents of my stomach.

  Every inch of me hurts. My head is pounding, my stomach is in knots, and I’m filled with a hefty dose of regret and shame. Most of last night is a blur, and thank God for that. The last thing that I want to remember is what it felt like to have sex with Jude Masters.

  I vomit again at the thought.

  I can’t believe that I let myself get drunk enough to do what I most definitely did. I would be less ashamed if I’d picked up some random stranger in the bar and brought him back to my hotel room. I’d feel better about myself if I would have slept with the homeless man on the street, for goodness sake.

  Sleeping with Jude Masters is the lowest of all lows.

  And now, I’m just another dumbass woman he can add to his list. Someone, kill me, right freaking now.

  I have no idea how long I spend in the bathroom, but by the time I emerge from the shower, every inch of my body is wrinkled like a prune. I scrubbed myself until my skin turned red and raw, and then I scrubbed some more. But even all of the soap and scrubbing in the world, isn’t enough to clean my body of all of its sins. I still feel dirty, yes. But that isn’t the part that is bothering me the most. It’s the visions of last night, that keep flooding back to me, that are really wreaking havoc on my soul right now.

  How could I have been so fucking stupid? Getting drunk with Jude was a recipe for disaster, and yet, I went ahead and did it anyways.

  So fucking what if my heart was raw last night? That doesn’t excuse my behavior. I willingly challenged Jude to a tequila shot contest. Who fucking does that? I laughed at his jokes, I sat way too close to him at the bar, and I let myself get intoxicated on the pheromones that practically leak out of his pores. I got caught up in him, and I let my guard down.

  That was my first mistake.

  The man is sex on a fucking stick, gorgeous as all get out, and sexy as sin. Still, that doesn’t excuse anything. I know him, way too well for my liking. He does this kind of thing all of the time, and I take every opportunity to make fun of him for it.

  Never in a million years did I ever imagine that I would be one of the women climbing into bed with him and letting him work his magic over my body. I should have just slept at the airport.

  I sink down into the only sitting chair in the room, and stare across the room at the bed, where I let Jude fuck me, fifty shades of gray style. My stomach churns.

  I have no idea how I’m ever going to face him again. It’s going to be awkward as hell. He’s always making sexual innuendos and jokes towards me. Now I have no idea how he’ll treat me.

  I bask in the peaceful emptiness of the room and practice some deep breathing that I learned a few years ago in one of my classes. Breathe in, breathe out. Let the anxiety leave…

  The door swings open before I have the chance to get my mind right. The second that my eyes land on Jude, my thoughts jumble, all over again.

  The only thing good about Jude returning, is the fact that he’s clutching two coffee cups in his hands, and a bag of food. Not that I could even stomach either of those things right now. My body is still in detox mode. When he tries to offer me some, I just shake my head, and point to the small table. He gives me a knowing look and sets the contents in his hands down.

  “Listen, Willow…” he starts, but I just simply raise my hand in silence. I know that we need to talk about what happened between us last night, but right now, it’s all just too raw and real. I need more time to let my shitty decisions sink in before I can even stand to hear his voice.

  As if reading my mind, Jude nods and then grabs some clothing out of his bag, before heading into the bathroom. The second that the door shuts behind him, my head falls into my hands. This is not ok. Not by a long shot.

  Before I even have the chance to clear my head, my phone rings. Glancing down at the screen, I see Wyatt’s face flashing across it.

  Impeccable fucking timing.

  I debate not answering it, but that’s a no go. My brother is nothing short of overly protective. He’ll keep calling until I finally pick up.

  “Hello?” I hope that I sound normal. I hope that my voice doesn’t give away the fact that I slept with his best friend last night. His dirty, slut bag, best friend, that is.

  “Willow.” Wyatt sighs. “How are you holding up?”

  My entire body freezes. Why wouldn’t I be holding up well? Because I made a horrible, drunken decision?

  I’ve never been much of a liar. If he even mentions Jude’s name, I’m going to sing like a bird. That’s the worst thing that could happen, too, because if Wyatt found out what Jude and I did last night, he’d lose his shit, and Jude will be a dead man. Luckily, he rushes on before I have the chance to give myself away.

  “I mean, the snow just won’t let up, right?” To be honest, I haven’t even looked out of the window yet today. I’ve been too busy trying to wrap my mind around last night’s events.

  “My agent has been working on getting you a flight out of there all morning, but all of the airlines are still shut down. We’re hoping that by later this afternoon we can get you out of there, but for now, you’re going to have to stick with Jude.”

  “I have to stick with Jude?” I swallow. Jude is the last person on the face of the Earth that I want to be near today. The only part of this entire day that I was looking forward to, was getting on a flight and getting the hell away from him.

  This is not the news that I wanted to hear.

  “I think I’ll still head to the airport and wait for any word.”

  “No, you won’t,” Wyatt growls. He is so fucking bossy, per usual. You’d think that after all these years, I’d get used to it. “It’s a damn blizzard there, Willow. You’ll stick with Jude, and he’ll take care of you. He already promised to keep you safe.”

  At the exact same moment, the bathroom door opens, and out walks Jude, accompanied by a thick cloud of steam. He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist, leaving his chiseled body on full display. His body is literally a work of art, covered in thick muscle and colorful tattoos. Every inch of him screams bad boy, but unfortunately, I now know that he is also the most delectable sin. So sinfully good, in fact, that he can make even the strongest woman lose control.

  His dark hair is wet, his eyes are soft, and a few drops of water run down his thick chest. I follow one, watching it ro
ll down, over his abs, past all of the artwork that flanks his skin, until it disappears underneath his towel.

  Hot damn.

  I want to pull my eyes away from him, and I’m disgusted with myself when I can’t. It’s obvious that while my brain is telling me to stay the fuck away from the creep, my body has already experienced him. And now my body has a mind of its own.

  “Yeah. Ok.” My voice is hardly recognizable, and as I click the phone off, the air hangs thick between us.

  “The airlines are still down.” My voice shakes. Jude just slowly nods.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “We’re stuck here together.” I nibble hard on my lower lip, attempting and still failing miserably at gaining any kind of control.

  “Yep. I know that, too.”

  Our eyes lock. Jude holds my gaze, not even bothering to look away from me. The tension rises, as does the beating of my heart. It’s pounding so loudly, that I can barely form a coherent thought, let alone muster up the courage to look away from the man.

  Luckily for me, I don’t have to.

  “We had better get the fuck out of this room, Willow. Let’s find someplace away from a bed, where we can talk, before we end up back in it.”

  Great fucking plan.

  5

  Jude

  Talking has never been one of my strong suits. Talking about a shameful night has never been one of my finer qualities, mostly, because I’ve never had to do it.

  While I’ve prided myself on being a big scorer with the ladies, dealing with the awkward morning after has been something that I’ve avoided at all costs.

  Sex is sex, but sleeping together is something else completely. Something that I never partake in.

  In all honesty, I can’t even remember the last time that I fucked a woman in my own bed, let alone spent the whole night with her. It’s probably been since my college days, or at least, the early days of my professional sports career.