Never Till Now (The Siblings of Heir #1) Read Online Jenna Lockwood

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Siblings of Heir Series by Jenna Lockwood
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
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Expert:

If there are no strings attached, why is it so hard to let go?

Adam
The Wheaton family name is famous for their luxury hotels, so that must make me the playboy heir, right?
Well, turns out that’s the easiest role for me to play.
After all, most women only want my name for their bank account—so these days “casual” is my middle name.
Problem is, these feelings are getting out of hand.
It’s not just that Lauren plays hard to get—it’s that she knows how to handle herself. She’s independent to a fault.
And it’s driving me crazy, because I don’t need a girl like that, but I think I might want her…

Lauren
I learned long ago that feelings hurt, so I found a way to turn them off.
It’s not a bad thing, particularly when I’m about to start work in the busiest ER in San Francisco.
Problem is, six foot three of rippling muscle and a sinful smirk is threatening to flip a switch I thought I’d destroyed.
Obligation is not what I need right now, though Adam promises me he’s only got one “O” word on his mind…
But as soon as he’s on my skin he’s under it—and as the feeling floods back into my body, so does the past I’ve tried so hard to outrun.
I don’t want Adam Wheaton. But I might just need him.

Full Book:

Playlist

Gorilla – Bruno Mars

Older Than I Am – Lennon Stella

Please Don’t Say You Love Me – Gabrielle Aplin

Control – Zoe Wees

Beauty in the Struggle – Bryan Martin

Nobody – Selena Gomez

Wildest Dreams – Taylor Swift (Epic Orchestra Version)

Glass – Thompson Square

What’s Left of Me – Nick Lachey

All I Know So Far – P!nk

Daylight – Taylor Swift (Live From Paris)

Chapter 1

Adam

“You are everything I hoped you wouldn’t be.” A manicured hand connects with my cheek as a sting reverberates through my skin.

“You mean only one of us stayed true to our agreement?” I pipe back and watch her red lips part, but she’s never been one to admit when wrong. “Was I not clear about my terms from the beginning?”

“People change, Adam.” In hopes of diverting my attention or causing a scene in my family’s hotel lobby, her arms deliberately cross to perk up her ten-thousand-dollar breasts.

“You did, Miranda. It’s over. Not that we had much to begin with.”

Her brown locks whip around as she turns on her red-sole heels, which I still believe I overpaid for.

Like a predator tracking its prey, guests and employees pretend to mind their own business, but their side-eyes sear through me. Miranda struts out of my family’s hotel with brisk intention, swaying her hips as if walking to a beat. My father sure as hell isn’t going to let me live this one down. Not only does he hate the way I view relationships, but he also despises any type of negative energy our family can bring to our business, Wheaton Hotels. I run a hand through my hair, square my shoulders and narrow my eyes with warning toward the front desk staff. I dare one of them to mention this to my father. I huff, bringing my fingers up to my neck to loosen my tie. It still isn’t enough to relieve built-up tension from work and shit with Miranda.

I shouldn’t still be in my work suit at this hour, but a strong drink before I head up to my room is long overdue. Miranda and I didn’t get the chance to hook up this week, and I’d rather someone other than my right hand to get me off. Commitment is no use when most women only want my last name for their bank account.

My eyes dragged across the polished marble floor leading to the baby grand piano my fingers keep itching to play. Very few people know that on off-hours, I can play the keys as good as the damn people we hire. Getting lost in the keys is a way to channel my frustration with how women can’t seem to accept the fact that I’m casual. Work is up to my balls and we are in full swing of our busy season. I don’t have time for women wanting more. Our Aspen location has been up and running for just over a month, but still has hiccups requiring visits.

My eyes land on the bar when blonde curls catch my eye. I wouldn’t have noticed her at first glance if it weren’t for her hair. Her dress blends into the dark-blue diamond-tucked leather booths. Her elbows rest on the black polished bar counter with a drink in hand. I glance at Max, my childhood best friend slash bartender, with questioning eyes that he silently understands. He’s been my wingman since I was a kid trying to hit on my babysitter. His nod signifies she’s here alone.

Rolling up the sleeves of my white button-up shirt, I expose my muscular forearms. For some reason, women eat this look up. A lonesome woman at a hotel bar during these late hours tends to signify she’s probably on the prowl for someone. The tapping of her foot draws my eyes immediately to the floor and thoughts of her long legs wrapped tightly around my face flash through my mind.


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