By Jana Aston
Release Date 10-7-15
I have a history of picking the wrong guy. Gay? Player? Momma’s boy? Check, check and check.
Now I can’t stop fantasizing about one of the customers at the coffee shop I work at between classes. It’s just a harmless crush, right? It’s not like I ever see this guy outside of the coffee shop. It’s not like I’m going to see him while attempting to get birth control at the student clinic. While wearing a paper gown. While sitting on an exam table. Because he’s the doctor. Shoot. Me.
But what if, for once, the man I’ve had the dirtiest, most scandalous fantasies about turned out to be everything but wrong?
Wrong is a full-length, standalone novel by Jana Aston
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1OdzfD7
iTunes: Coming Soon
Luke flexes his jaw and rubs the back of his neck. It occurs to me now how stupid my fantasy crush was. This is the longest amount of time I've spent with him, and the only time without a counter separating us. Still, I can't help being attracted to him. I know it's wrong. Fucked up. Delusional. I'm already wondering if my future career will pay enough to cover the therapy I obviously need.
Marie is back and places something wrapped in heavy-duty plastic on the tray. The object makes a thud as she sets it down before taking up her seat beside the door again, sticking her face into an old copy of Good Housekeeping.
"Lie back on the table, Sophie." Luke's face is unreadable as he walks over to the exam table. He wraps a hand around my wrist and raises it over my head, his eyes passing over my face briefly before he sets my hand on the table.
His fingers move to the gown covering me. Do not be turned on, do not be turned on, do not be turned on, I chant to myself. I snap my gaze away and focus on the ceiling.
There's a motivational poster on the ceiling right above the exam table. I burst out laughing just as I feel Luke's hands on my breast.
"Sorry, are my hands cold?"
"No, your hands are perfect," I blurt out without thinking. I think I detect a slight smirk on his face before I revert my gaze to the poster on the ceiling.
"The poster." I gesture upward with my free hand. It strikes me funny that there's a motivational poster on the ceiling. Like that's gonna take my mind off where I'm at. Or is it meant to motivate me to stay on this table? I giggle again. Luke tilts his head and looks at the ceiling.
Shit, are my nipples hard? That's normal, right? He's not doing anything erotic, but his hands are on my breasts. Yeah, my nipples are hard. His fingers are flat against the sides of my breasts now. He's rotating them around in what feels like a spiral pattern before lightly pinching my nipple. I have to stop myself from moaning a little. His hands feel good. I'm sure they're not supposed to, but they do.
"Sophie, he's going to be back for more. Trust me."
I load a tray of cupcakes and slide them into the bakery case. "I don't know, Everly. He's really sophisticated and clearly lives a lifestyle a long ways from Cowbell Lane," I say, referencing my grandparents' home in Willow Grove.
"Bitch, please. The guy is pushing forty and you're a hot co-ed with a brand-new tight, shiny pussy. He'll be back."
My eyes widen. "Everly, Jesus!"
"Just saying." She holds her hands up in mock defense before breaking into a huge grin.
"You don't really think he's forty, do you?"
"He just turned thirty-six in August."
"How do you know that?"
"You Googled him?"
"You didn't?" Everly looks aghast.
"Uh, no." Truthfully I thought about it, but I didn't want to get any more invested in him than I already am.
"Well, look what the pussy dragged in." Everly is smirking.
"Everly, that's not the saying. It's 'cat.' 'Look what the cat dragged in.'"
"Oh, I think I've got the saying right. He's here."
My stomach explodes in nerves as I glance towards the door. Luke is here. I wondered if he'd stick to his normal Tuesday routine and stop here for coffee. I've figured out this Grind Me location is between his Rittenhouse Square condo and the student clinic, but it's hardly the only route he could take or stop he could make.
My heart is beating so fast as I take him in. Is he going to speak to me or go back to just ordering coffee and leaving like he has the last several weeks?
He's in a navy suit today, crisp white shirt and a silvery blue tie. And then my heart stops beating so fast. There's a hand on his arm. I follow that hand to the redhead from Saturday night.
He turns to me with a sly grin. "You've never had sex in here."
Obviously I haven't. He's the only person I've had sex with and that's all been at his place. "No."
"We can rectify that now." He grins.
Oh, that's what was on this mind? He wants to be the one to fuck me in my dorm room? "Yes, please."
"Yes, please?" he repeats back to me. "So polite, you little hussy," he says as he covers the three steps that separate us. "Should I be polite?" He bends and kisses me under my left ear, not waiting for an answer. "Come on, Sophie, let me make love to you, baby. I'll make it good for you, I swear." He's kissing me along my jaw and keeping his hands chastely on my hips, over my pajamas. I'm not sure what is happening right now. "I'll just put the tip in, okay?"
I laugh. He's giving me clichéd college sex lines.
"I'll still respect you in the morning, baby."
I'm laughing when he covers my mouth with his. He keeps whispering ridiculous lines to me, but his mouth and hands are their usual Luke perfection. I play along because it's funny, but it's hot too. Also, I love it when he loses focus and smirks at something I've said. He takes his time, probably more time than he's ever needed to take.
"Can I take off your shirt?" he asks, as if there's a possibility I might say no.
Jesus, yes! I want to scream at him. He's got me so worked up and we've still got all our clothes on. Heavy petting is bullshit when you've already ridden the bull. I unbutton his pants and ask for permission to "touch it." This earns me a laugh and I think I might have him then, ready to end this game and pound the fuck out of me on my twin-sized bed, but no. He regains composure and guides my hand up and down the length of him.
"I want you to be my first, Luke. I know you'll make it good." I am laying it on now. "I've wanted you inside of me since the first time I saw you." It's getting harder to speak with his hands down my pants. "Your fingers, God knows how I loved watching them as you brought your coffee cup to your perfect lips. I'd go home after my shift and lie in this bed and touch myself while thinking about you. Before the clinic, before I even knew your name, I'd lie right here thinking about you while making myself come."
Jana Aston works a really boring day job. Really. Boring. In her spare time she loves to read sexy romance novels, especially if they involve an alpha CEO. Wrong is her first novel.
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