Savage in the Sheets: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance (Savage in Love) Read online

  Savage in the Sheets

  Lark Anderson

  Contents

  Title Page

  Also By Lark Anderson

  Also by Lark as LJ Anderson

  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

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Lark Anderson

  Also by Lark as LJ Anderson

  Reviews & Arcs

  About the Author – Lark

  Sneak Peek

  22. Chapter One

  Savage in the Sheets

  Copyright © 2020 by Lark Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Lark Letter Press

  131 Daniel Webster Hwy #166

  Nashua, NH 03060

  www.larkandersonbooks.net

  [email protected]

  Edited by: Natasha Davis

  * * *

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or 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 for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission request, write to the publisher, addressed, “Attention: Permission Coordinator,” at the address above.

  * * *

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictionally. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination. The following story contains mature content and is intended for mature readers.

  Also By Lark Anderson

  The Beguiling a Billionaire Series

  The Billionaire’s Board

  The Billionaire’s Fixer Upper

  The Billionaire’s Funding

  The Bad Girl

  The Dis-Graced

  The Trainwreck

  Hacking His Code

  * * *

  Reckless in Love

  Love you…not!

  Trust you…not!

  Tempt you…not!

  * * *

  Savage in Love

  Savage in the Sheets

  Savage in the Sweets

  * * *

  The Glow Girlz Series

  Stacey's Seduction

  Tempting Teysa

  Desiree's Delight

  * * *

  If you’d like a FREE ebook, click HERE!

  * * *

  If you'd like to become an ARC reviewer for Lark Anderson, please email her at: [email protected]. If you would like to subscribe to Lark's newsletter, please sign up here.

  Also by Lark as LJ Anderson

  Venus Quarantine Initiative

  Her Chosen Mate

  Jenna

  “I hate you!”

  “Again, I don’t see how I had anything to do with Arnold’s pick—”

  “You liked that trashy bimbo with the big, blonde hair and fake boobs!”

  “I did enjoy some of her segments—”

  “And because of people like you, Ryanne is being sent home. She’s an executive at only twenty-six—TWENTY-SIX!!!”

  “You do realize this wasn’t a viewer vote sendoff,” Wes says, way too logically for my liking. “Arnold picked—”

  “Which one, Wes!” I gesture wildly to the screen. “Which one would you rather fuck?”

  Weston blinks, his mouth falling ajar. My cheeks turn red as I suddenly realize just how childish I’m being, but at this point, it’s a hill I might as well die on.

  “Which one?” I emphasize the words pointedly.

  Weston looks down guilty. “Bianca…”

  I launch a pillow at his face. “I knew it—I knew it!”

  He holds up his hands in fake surrender. “To be honest, I don’t even like her fake boobs. She just seems easygoing.”

  “Easygoing?”

  “Yeah. She’s the kind of girl that when eleven o’clock rolls around, she dares you to take one more shot. Ryanne…well, I’m pretty sure she’s in bed by nine.”

  “Because she makes good life decisions!”

  “Yes, because she has her shit together.” Weston rakes his long fingers through his shaggy, dark hair. “I’m willing to bet Arnold isn’t looking to settle down. Look at him.” He points to the television. “He’s twenty-three and obviously works out several times a week. The show is called Tempt Me, not Date Me, not Marry Me—Tempt Me. Bianca is both tempting and perfect for a week-long fling.”

  “We are never watching this together again,” I insist, folding my arms over my chest.

  “That’s fine by me,” he says smugly. “We can go back to that garage makeover show.”

  I frown. “That was boring.”

  Weston turns off the television. “Then we watch, nothing and just sit around, enjoying each other’s company.”

  Feeling foolish, I give him my most pathetic puppy-dog eyes. “Sorry about my outburst.”

  “It’s okay. To tell you the truth, this was way better than the whole Kate-Juliet argument we had when we binge-watched Lost.”

  I chuckle. “Why would anyone want Kate over Juliet—she’s terrible!”

  Weston rolls his eyes. “Want me to get you another beer?”

  “Sure.”

  As he goes to the kitchen, I’m left alone with my thoughts.

  From the outside looking in, it may seems rather silly that I’m ranting about a reality show that certainly has no basis in reality.

  But the thing is, this is very much my reality.

  I’ve always been a too-smart-for-my-own-good go-getter. An overachiever to an obnoxious degree. Valedictorian. Bar exam acer.

  Everything seems to come easy for me.

  Except love.

  “Here ya go.” Weston hands me a Bud Light Lime.

  I take a sip, mulling over my many unfortunate relationships. If you could even call them that.

  Things start off great. They’re impressed with my accomplishments and happy to take me on date number two. And three. Then, we make it into the bedroom…maybe two times.

  I have to know what’s wrong with me. Why guys ditch me when everything seems to be going so smoothly. And who better to help than Wes, my bestie who’s been with me through thick and thin the last eight years.

  “Wes?” I say anxiously, not sure if I really want to know the answer to what I’m about to ask.

  His face shows concern. “What’s up?”

  “I need to know what’s wrong with me.”

  His brow draws together. “Wrong with you? You seem to be doing alright.”

  I take a sip of my beer, then dig in deep.

  “I’m twenty-five, and I’ve never been in a real, committed relationship. There was a guy in high school I ‘dated’ for two years, but we never did more than kiss. Every time I meet a man, things seem to be going good. We talk, and there are no awkward silences. We…make it into the bedroom…all the things men would expect.” I waggle my brow to get my point across. “But then…nothing. They just tell me they’re not looking for commitment, or they stop calling altogether.”


  “Uh-huh—”

  “Which is bullshit. A month after one guy broke up with me, he was claiming some woman on Facebook. I couldn’t help but think, why not me?”

  Weston downcasts his eyes.

  “Wes, do you know something?”

  “It’s nothing—”

  “Oh, it is most certainly something. Now you better tell me—”

  “You’re reading too much into this.”

  “Don’t act like I don’t know you. If you know something that could help me, just tell me. I would do the same for you.”

  Wes swallows hard, and I know I’m in for a bumpy ride. I take another swig of beer and brace for impact.

  “Remember a month ago when I got into that fight with Ashton…” Weston starts.

  Ashton Penrose, the charming architect that shagged me three whole times before calling it quits.

  “Yeah, you were at that new bar, and he was trying to hit on the girl you were with.”

  He clears his throat and licks his lips as if he’s anxious.

  Why would he be anxious?

  “He wasn’t hitting on your girl, was he?”

  “No…I was there with some friends, and I said hi. He said, “You’re friends with that smart, nerdy girl, aren’t you?” I had to agree with him, because it was true but what he said next was something I couldn’t tolerate.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Just that…you were very mechanical.”

  I blink, trying to process what my best friend just said. “Mechanical?”

  “He called you Rosie from the Jetsons, you know, the robot. She has those little metal hands shaped like this,” he makes his hand into a claw. “Then, he demonstrated a weirdly mechanical hand job.” Wes makes a mechanical jacking motion with his hand while simultaneously making a squeaky grinding sound to add to the effect.

  “Stop!” I cover my eyes, too embarrassed to look on.

  “I defended your honor! Damn near broke his jaw.”

  I reach over and hold a finger up to his lips. “Not another word.”

  My worst fears have been confirmed. I’m a bad lay. That may sound dramatic, but it’s a pretty valid fear. Men are known to fall for complete and utter train-wrecks that can’t get their shit together. Even looks can be overlooked. What’s ugly to some is extremely attractive to another. But bad in bed—that’s a hard flaw to overcome.

  After the longest minute imaginable, Wes says, “Look, it’s not that big a deal. To some people, a warm body is a warm body.”

  I stare in shock at him, mouth gaping in offense.

  “Oh, shit. I guess maybe you didn’t want to hear that.”

  He’s the last person I should be mad at because he’s the only guy with balls enough to tell me the truth.

  I give him a meek smile. “Thanks, Wes, for shooting it to me straight.”

  A friendship like ours isn’t the norm, but we didn’t exactly have a typical start to it.

  During his years at a local community college, he needed a tutor, so he picked up a third job in order to afford one. He hired me, who was two years his junior but attending an Ivy League school.

  He was the first person in his family to attend college, and due to having to work since the age of thirteen to help keep his family afloat, he wasn’t always able to give his schoolwork proper attention, and it showed in his grades.

  As it turned out, he was plenty smart; he just never got any sleep and had a million stressors on his mind. When I found out he took on a third job in order to afford me, I made him quit on the spot. I sat next to him as he gave his two-week notice. Then, we made a plan on how best to get him through school while keeping his debt minimal.

  After that, we became best friends. I went on to graduate law school, and he eventually went on to university, graduated with honors, and now works in contract management for some big-shot tech company. Both of us in prime positions for our ‘happily ever after.’

  Wes looks guiltily down at his drink. “I wish I had handled the situation more delicately. With finesse. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “I don’t.” I chuckle. “This was fucking hilarious.” I make the Rosie hand job motion.

  We break out into laughter, and I scoot over to him, resting my head on his shoulder.

  “Wes…”

  “Yeah?”

  “When we first met, you said that you needed me. But more and more often, now, I’m the one that needs you.”

  “It’s give and take with us.” Wes grabs the remote. “Oh! I remember hearing something about a chicken beauty pageant on YouTube.”

  “This, I gotta see!”

  Weston

  I can’t remember a time that I’ve felt more terrible than when I saw the hurt in Jenna’s eyes. All because I was careless with my words.

  If there ever was a person in this world I owed an incalculable debt to, it would be Jenna Savage.

  Without her, I would have never graduated from college. Jenna saw past my good looks that normally strike a woman and my deficient math skills, and somehow saw the person I was meant to become. I was all but on the brink of dropping out of college before she came along. She was my Hail Mary pass.

  And knowing that I’ve caused her pain has kept me up all night.

  Jenna is as smart as they come, logical with everything she does, with an analytical brain that I’m entirely sure could aspire to world domination.

  But she is not easy going, she does not suffer stupidity, and she doesn’t need a man. Not like other women do. She’s not a person that makes you forget your worries. She’s the person that tries to fix them, which is great, but it’s not a quality a guy looks for in a date.

  Maybe, for once in her life, Jenna needs someone to solve her problem. Instead of coming to someone else’s rescue, someone needs to come to hers.

  And what better person than me, her very best friend who would do anything to help her and who owes her literally everything.

  But how would I help her? I don’t want to make her feel like she has to change who she is. I just want to teach her to cut loose a little and not take everything so seriously. We could start with movies, rom-coms that show a woman at ease like There’s Something About Mary. That Cameron Diaz chick was one cool cucumber.

  But it has to extend outside of watching movies. We’re going to have to analyze her dates, her conversations…her love life.

  Looking at Jenna, you’d never guess that she would be anything less than a ten in the sack. Five-foot-seven, cascading red hair, shapely breasts, heart-shaped face, intense green eyes, pouty lips, and curvy hips—she’s the very definition of aphrodisiac. I reckon the only reason I’m immune to her is because when we met, I was in such dire straits the last thing on my mind was meeting a woman.

  I grab my phone to text her.

  * * *

  Weston: how you feelin’

  * * *

  Jenna: Like shit.

  * * *

  Weston: you shouldn’t

  * * *

  Jenna: You told me I’m a Rosie Jetson in the sheets…

  * * *

  Weston: First, those weren’t my words. Second, that guy was an asshole.

  * * *

  Jenna: Just because he’s an asshole doesn’t make it not true.

  * * *

  Weston: you’re in luck

  * * *

  Jenna: How so?

  * * *

  Weston: Because I’m gonna be your new wingman. With my help, you’re going to transition from Rosie Jetson to Wilma Flintstone.

  * * *

  Jenna: Wilma Flintstone?

  * * *

  Weston: She’s a cute redhead in a short skirt…and wears a pearl necklace…

  * * *

  Jenna: To be honest, I don’t know what you’re getting at, Wes. Are you going to just give me advice?

  * * *

  Weston: Let me put it this way—I’m gonna make you a Savage in the sheets…

  * * *
>
  Jenna: Ummm…could you be a little more clear?

  * * *

  Weston: Get yourself ready because I’m swinging by in an hour.

  Jenna

  I reread the texts from Weston for the hundredth time, trying to figure out what the hell his intentions are.

  By the sound of it, he’s coming over to teach me how to have sex. Which would involve…having sex?

  Which would be the stupidest thing we could possibly do because we’re friends. No, not just friends—best friends with an unbreakable bond.

  But I guess an unbreakable bond suggests we could cross that line and come out the other side unscathed.

  As crazy as it sounds.

  After going through my closet, I decide to do the most normal thing when greeting Weston on a Saturday morning, and that is stay in my pajamas, though I do run a brush through my hair and refresh my face a little.

  Do I want to have sex with Weston?

  Weirdly, that the question has never crossed my mind. Not once.