No Touch Zone (Saints of Love Book 2)

  No Touch Zone

  Elizabeth Perry

  Copyright © 2020 by Elizabeth Perry

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Hard Pass

  Connect with me!

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Jude

  “I object.” Damn, there are a lot of people here. There have to be around two hundred, which means that I have at least that many sets of eyes focused on me right now. The church falls so silent that you can hear the sweat sliding off of my skin and landing on the floor.

  It’s so freaking hot in here. It’s probably the gates of hell opening up beneath me, ready to swallow me whole.

  I fucking deserve it.

  I didn’t come here today with the intention of ruining Willow’s wedding, but before I could even stop myself, I was standing tall and addressing Willow’s entire family. Which, unfortunately, includes my best friend, Wyatt, who just so happens to be Willow’s older, and very protective, brother.

  The look on his face is telling me to sit down and shut the fuck up. I know it, and I feel it. But I’m too far gone to stop now.

  “Willow.” I’m moving out of my pew and taking steps down the aisle. Wyatt is also moving directly towards me, steadily blocking my path to his baby sister.

  “You can’t marry this guy.”

  I’ve been playing it cool around her for the last three months. I’ve even convinced myself that Willow getting married to someone else was the right thing. But then, my eyes landed on her today; in her beautiful white dress, carrying her bright pink bouquet. And I knew, I just knew that this was wrong.

  One glance at her groom, and I couldn’t stop myself from intervening.

  Dammit, the look on his face immediately told me he didn’t deserve her. He didn’t have the look of a man in love. He wasn’t looking at her like he should have been. Like I would have been, if she were wearing a white dress and was about to take my last name.

  It was in that moment that I knew he didn’t fucking deserve her.

  To be honest, I don’t really deserve her either, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to prove my worth, even if it will be an impossible task.

  “Jude!” I now have Willow’s full attention, along with every other person inside of this church, and she looks pissed. “What are you doing? Sit down!”

  “I can’t sit down.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Willow, baby, you’re making a mistake. You can’t marry this guy.” Oh, fuck, I’m about to say it. In about two seconds, my best friend is going to know that I did the unthinkable. I broke the number one rule of our friendship.

  He’s about to find out that I slept with his baby sister.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you, and I sure as hell can’t stop thinking about those nights.” Wyatt’s moving towards me fast, so I hurry up and spit it out. “I love you, Willow, and before you do this, before you go and marry this guy, I need you to know that. I need you to know that I love you and I will do anything to make you mine.”

  I’ve got more to say, but Wyatt tackles me hard in the middle of the aisle, more like a linebacker than the wide receiver that he is.

  “You’re fucking dead, Masters,” he growls, and his hands wrap around my neck. I’ve got this coming, so I don’t even bother fighting back. Right before the darkness sets in, I manage to croak out the words that have been threatening to leave my mouth for what seems like forever.

  “I love you, Willow. You should be marrying me.”

  1

  Jude

  Three months prior.

  “What do you mean, all of the flights are delayed?” The woman behind the counter looks frazzled, and I can’t really say that I blame her. The airport is filled with people just as irritated as I am, asking her the same question, over and over. “I mean, you can’t tell me that there isn’t a single flight to Minnesota with at least one of the airlines.”

  Her lips purse, and she points her finger towards the wall of windows off to the left hand side. I don’t need to look, I’ve already sat and stared at the blizzard in full effect right now.

  I know that it’s snowing. But damn, it seems a bit much to shut down an entire airport.

  “Sir, we will contact everyone via text when flights resume. Until then, I suggest you look into one of the many hotels in town. I also have these brochures,” She slides me a couple of pamphlets, “listing all of the restaurants in the area. I would suggest calling ahead, though. Many of our local businesses have shut down due to weather.”

  “Pussies,” I mutter, snatching the pamphlets and exiting the line. It’s absurd to think that an entire town would shut down due to weather. It’s snowing, yeah. But it’s not like a little snow is the end of the world.

  I live in Minnesota. We know snow, and we’re used to bad winters. These people in Chicago are acting like a bunch of pansies over one single blizzard.

  There are at least twenty bars inside of this airport, so I stop in the first one that I come across and settle myself on a barstool. I glance at the hourly weather, growing more irritated at the one hundred percent chance of snow every hour for the next two days.

  I order a beer and a shot, draining the shot quickly before starting to sip on my beer. I punch some numbers into the phone, leaning back in my seat and smiling, as her sex operator voice fills the line.

  “Talk to me, kitten.” Maybe it’s a faux pas to call my agent kitten and to adore her sexy as sin telephone voice, but I don’t care. It’s the number one reason that I hired her to begin with. “Tell me that you can get me a flight out of this place.”

  I can hear her nails clicking against the keyboard. I imagine her leaning back in her desk chair, wearing nothing but her signature, bright red, nail polish and a smile.

  My imagination starts to wander a bit more as she sighs into the phone, but then her words snap me out of my sex induced trance and into the present.

  “Nada, hot stuff. There isn’t a single airline or private plane running right now. And you’re lucky you called me when you did, because rooms are filling up fast. In fact, I may have gotten you the last available room in that entire damn city. Don’t even ask me how much you’re paying for it. You don’t want to know.”

  I fire off a few more questions, and I’m met with the same answer. No planes, no pilots, no rental cars, just a single, damn room.

  I’m irritated, to say the least, especially since my time right now is precious.

  I play football for a living, as a tight end, which means that for eight months out of the year my life is dictated by someone else. My kitten makes sure that I have a weekly agenda so that I always know where to be and when. I have a list of all of the days and times that I have to smile pretty for the camera, and th
en I have my practice days and game times where I have to work my ass off to keep a contract. But, from the middle of February until the second week in April, I’m allowed to do whatever the fuck I want. My time is mine, and I’m able to fill it exactly the way that I want to.

  I just spent two weeks in Tahiti, laying by the ocean and working on my tan during the day, then finding the hottest, bikini-clad fox to fill my bed during the night.

  I had every intention of flying home for a few days and then jetting off somewhere warm again for a few weeks. Turns out, my layover in Chicago has turned into the staycation that I didn’t ask for.

  I end my call with Ciara after getting my hotel details, and then turn my attention to the television on the wall over the bartender’s head. It’s more blizzard blah blah blah, so I order another shot to calm my nerves.

  Outside of the wall of windows that separates the bar from the rest of the airport, I can see hundreds, if not thousands, of irritated, stranded travelers like myself. I people-watch for a while and am just about to call it a night and do the walk of shame to my hotel when the flash of a woman catches my eye.

  It’s not just any woman, either. It’s the one woman who sparks my interest way more than she should. She’s the one woman that I can’t have, which is what I chalk my obsession up to.

  At first, I think that I’m hallucinating. But then, I hear her voice.

  Good fucking God, that voice.

  The sound of it alone causes goosebumps to cover my body. A chill runs down my spine, at the same time that my cheeks flush. She is the only woman alive to have this effect on me, which most days, is a real problem. But today, well…today it’s not so bad. The fact that she’s here means she’s stuck, too. She’s one of the few people that I don’t mind being trapped in an airport with during a blizzard.

  I slide some cash across the bar to the bartender, and instinctively move towards her. From this angle, I have the chance to study her without her even realizing that I’m watching. I soak in the vision of her lush, legging clad ass, storing it to my memory for future spank bank material.

  That’s the only release that I’ll ever get from her. My right hand, and the picture of her in my mind. She reduces me to a horny teenage boy every fucking time that I see her. One glimpse of her causes my balls to ache, and my dick to throb with need.

  I call it the Willowrection.

  It’s the erection that won’t ever fucking stop, and it starts and ends with the gorgeous brunette, with bright green eyes, now standing in front of me.

  “Willow.” She immediately freezes at the sound of her name leaving my mouth. If she were facing me, I’d probably see her cringe. Here’s the thing. While I have a major hard on for her, she has the exact opposite feeling for me. In fact, I’m pretty sure she hates me.

  “As if this day could get any worse.” Her icy tone fills the air between us. “Jude Masters is also stuck in the same damn airport as me.”

  “In the flesh.” I beam at her, my heart rate kicking up a notch as her green eyes meet mine. I ignore the way that they narrow.

  “Perfect.” Her tone tells me that this is far less than that. “God must fucking hate my guts, because not only has my world fallen to complete shit, I’m now stranded here, in this stupid effing airport, in this hellacious town, with no hotel room, and you.”

  “Well, your luck is about to change there, doll face.” I wink at her, which only makes her frown deepen.

  “My agent just landed me the last room in this whole damn city. And I’d be more than happy to share it with you.”

  She just snorts. “I’d rather take my chances sleeping on a park bench outside, in the middle of a snowstorm, than to shack up with you for the night.”

  “Don’t tease me, Willow.” I fucking mean it, too. The idea of shacking up with her has my head just about spinning. Willow Anderson just has that effect on me. She’s fucking gorgeous, for starters, with a quick mouth and a sarcastic sense of humor, which I absolutely love, by the way. Add into that a rocking, fucking body, which I would bet is pretty damn close to pure, and an insatiably smart mind - she’s the complete fucking package.

  The only problem?

  She’s my best friend’s little sister, which means she is completely off limits.

  This is nothing new, and like I’ve said, I’ve learned to keep my erection in check around this girl. It’s not like I could ever make a move on her, and it’s not like I ever would.

  She may be a ten all day, but she’s way too good and too pure to tango with a guy like me. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love me, because I’m the shit, but even I know that in all of my awesomeness, I don’t deserve a chance with her.

  She’s the forbidden fruit. The sweetest sin, the apple that Adam wasn’t supposed to eat. I know that a line has been drawn in the sand where she is concerned, and I would never actually cross it. But that isn’t going to stop me from playing around with her a bit.

  “Aw, Willow. Words hurt. Let’s be honest, babes. One night in a hotel room with me could be enough to change your whole life. You should give it a try. I’ve been told that a night with me is like finding heaven on earth.”

  I can’t even keep the smirk off of my face, when she sticks her finger down her throat, pretending to vomit.

  “Pass.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing her suitcase and stepping past me. I follow right behind her, not yet ready for her to leave my sight.

  “Oh, C’mon, Willow.” I pretend to pout, which only makes her frown deepen. “I’m just messing with you. The ladies only say that I’m epic, alright? Nobody mentioned anything about heaven on earth. I made that up.”

  Her eyes narrow, which is a bit unusual for her. I know that most days, I work her nerves, but she doesn’t usually look this angry. She must be even more mad than I am about getting stranded here. It does suck, but there isn’t anything that we can do about it. She apparently hasn’t had enough time to absorb that, yet.

  “You might think that it was heavenly, though. All that you’d need to do is give me one chance.”

  Her brother would kick my ass just for talking to her like this, but I can’t help myself. I’ll do just about anything to get a reaction out of her. She’s so fucking cute when she’s mad.

  “You’re a pig, Masters.” She waves her middle finger directly in front of my face. “Go take a long walk off of a short bridge.”

  “Is that a no?” Even I can’t hide my smirk as she snorts, and then struts away from me, shaking her head the entire time.

  2

  Willow

  Two hours later, I’m a few too many drinks in, failing miserably at drowning my sorrows in one of the airport bars. This day-ha.

  It’s basically the worst in the history of bad days. Since the moment that I woke up this morning, a series of events have happened, each one worse than the last.

  Just this morning, I was in California, the sun was shining, and the weather had been perfect. I woke up next to my brand new fiancé, on a California king mattress, with the best pillows I’ve ever slept on, in the mood to make today my bitch.

  As it so happens, the day decided to make me its bitch instead, and if it could quit now, that’d be freaking great. I’m pretty sure that I cannot take one more hit today.

  My fiancé, BJ and I were both in California today to interview for residencies at UNC Children’s hospital in San Francisco. Working there has been my dream since back before I even started medical school. I’ve always had a special place in my heart for children fighting cancer, and so it only made sense for me to start there and learn from the best pediatric oncologists in the field.

  Within minutes, that dream was shattered. It was the quickest interview that I’ve ever had and also the fastest dismissal. They didn’t even offer to look over my resume and call me back. They just thanked me for my time, and then an uncomfortable silence fell over us as they waited for me to leave, while I was still busy trying to process the rejection.

  To say that I was crushe
d is an understatement. I’ve been working towards this moment for seemingly forever at this point. For the last three years of my life, I’ve been busting my ass in medical school. I’ve lived with my brother, in an effort to save money (since I’m broke as hell), which has been downright awful.

  Not that my brother’s a jerk or anything, but he’s an NFL superstar, and he lives his life by those terms exactly. It’s not uncommon for him to invite every dimwitted, big boobed female in all of Minnesota over to his house on any given night of the week.

  I’ve seen things that I shouldn’t have ever had to see. I’ve lost sleep due to the sounds of sex hitting against each one of my walls, and I’ve had to make it my daily ritual to Lysol every square surface of our shared space.

  Moving to California was going to be my ticket out. It was going to be my time to shine.

  So fucking much for that.

  As if my rejection wasn’t enough, I soon found out that that while I was rejected by the hospital, BJ had not only been offered one of the residency spots, but he had accepted it.

  He fucking accepted it.

  BJ has zero interest in oncology, let alone, pediatrics. He applied for one of the open positions simply because I did, so that we could stay together when I moved. We were going to start our new life together there. Things were supposed to fall into place, for the first time in seemingly forever. Now instead, he’s the one moving to California, and I’m stuck sitting here, feeling completely blindsided.

  Because I fucking wanted that residency. I realize that it may be petty, but the fact that he accepted the spot, knowing damn well that I had been rejected, felt like the ultimate betrayal.