Disclaimer: I don't own we all know that.

This is too my wifey apk1980 because she gave me some good mental pictures while I wrote this. That and she makes me smile everyday.

I imagine Peter as looking like Jax Teller from Sons of Anarchy. If you have not seen that show go google him because he is pretty fucking hot.



"Fucking asshole." I growled slamming my phone into its cradle on my desk.

"I didn't do it," came from the doorway. I glanced up to find my best friend and assistant editor, Seth, with his hands held up in surrender.

I smiled and motioned him into the room. "I wasn't talking about you."

He came in and took a seat across from me. "I know since you only use those two words for a certain person. What's up his ass today?"

"Something about a fucking permit not being right. If he'd read everything I gave him to begin with he'd know that it was in fact right, but no he has to call and bitch me out first. Stupid fucker."

"Fire him then."

"If he wasn't the best in his field I would."

"That and other things."

"Shut the fuck up."

"I'm just sayin."

"Well don't." I huffed and grabbed a manuscript off the small need to edit pile. Wanting him to drop his line of thinking I asked, "Are you finished for the day?"

"Yep finished up right before I came in here. You want to go get some dinner?"

"Can't, sorry. Need to get through these last chapters so I can take the next few days off. I'm in need of some relaxing time."

He grinned knowing what I was planning on doing. "Okay. I'll hold the fort down tomorrow and Friday. You just be careful."


"Do you know where you're going?"

"Do I ever?"

He shook his head with a smirk and stood. "Alright I'm outta here. I'll see you…."

"Monday," I said receiving a nod in return. "Call if something disastrous happens. If not…"

"Don't fucking bother you."


He grinned, throwing his hand up in a wave and left my office.

Grabbing a red pen off my desk I started to edit the chapter in front of me when my phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID I groaned seeing Hale Construction flashing across the screen. Mother fucker. What the hell was wrong now? Reaching over I hit ignore instead of answer. If it was important he could leave a message. I'd call back when I got a chance too.

Turning back to the chapter I read the same paragraph five times before throwing my pen down. This always fucking happens when he calls; I get annoyed and aggravated. The only thing I could seem to think about after he called was how I'd gotten to where I was and ended up meeting his cocky ass.

I was the only child of two only children. Both sets of grandparents died before I was 10 and left behind sizable life insurance policies to my parents. By then I'd found books and they helped me escape the sadness. They did it again when I was 14 and my mother died in a car accident. She too left behind a very large policy. I would have rather had my mom.

My dad kept us grounded though. He didn't let the money go to our heads, keeping his job as a small town police chief and making me get a part time job at 16, even though neither one of us would have ever had to work again if we didn't want too.

I didn't mind though because it instilled a very strong work ethic in me. One I still embraced to this day.

When I left for college I had one dream. My love for books made me want to one day own my own publishing house, so I was a double major student, business and English literature, along with a minor in journalism.

My journalism classes were where I met Seth. He was a sweet guy and we became fast friends. He introduced me to the second and third loves of my life and I thank god for him everyday.

When I was 21 my father died after being shot in the line of duty. With the help of Seth and his speed demon ways I was able to make it home in time to say goodbye and hear my father's last wish for me--to make all my dreams come true.

And I did just that.

I graduated college a year later and opened Swan Publishing, hiring Seth as my assistant and a few others. I didn't care that I didn't have any clients, I had more than enough money thanks to the added policy from dad to support myself, pay them, and the bills for years.

It didn't take that long though.

Six months after we opened my first author walked in the door. She was a first time writer, been turned down by several well known houses, and just wanted a chance. One that I was more than happy to give her.

Her first book ended up on the bestsellers list, along with her second and third. After the success of her first one, other new authors started pouring in and now two years later we were one of the top houses in the state of Washington.

Being as successful as I was left little time for social interaction outside of the office, but I still wanted a sense of home. That want left me with a desire to move from the apartment I rented when I came to Seattle into my own house.

I started scouring real estate sights for the perfect place. For six months I became more and more annoyed with the fact that the only places I could find that had everything I wanted were huge houses I'd end up getting lost in.

It was then that Seth made the suggestion to just build my own. I spent about five minutes thinking about it before changing my search to architects. By the end of the week I had an appointment to meet one and a list of the specifics--a large state of the art kitchen, bathroom, library, office, movie room, and pool. Everything else could be 5 by 5 rooms I didn't really give a shit, but those others had to have all the trimmings.

My architect had been ecstatic with the job I hired him to do after our meeting and while he drew up my floor plans I hunted land, finding a beautiful 15 acres on the outskirts of Seattle.

Once everything was right I was ready to get started. My architect was the one who turned me to Hale Construction. They were the best according to him. If I knew then what I know now I would have said give me the second best.

From the beginning the owner and foreman Peter Hale pissed me off. When I stepped out of my car to meet him the first time he'd looked me up and down with a scowl on his face. I guess he thought since I was a young woman and building my own house that I was a spoiled little brat. He treated me as such, speaking in a patronizing tone every time he opened his mouth. I should really have fired him after our first argument but I didn't and for four months I have put up with his shit.

Our first fight had been about the trees on the property. I wanted as few as possible cut down, even though it would cause more problems trying to get around them with some of the equipment, but I didn't care. They were one of the reasons I bought that specific property. I won that one just like all the others we'd had too.

What really drove me crazy with him though was that despite the fact he was cocky and arrogant and made me want to beat him with a 2x4 on a daily basis he was also very…fucking…lickable.

He wasn't too tall at only 6'0 or 6'1, but for my 5'2 height it was perfect. His arms didn't have the huge muscles that some of his crew did, but you could still see the definition and strength in them. I would also bet half my bank account that under that tight white t-shirt he wore there was a six pack and a nice little v. After all his firm ass was framed nicely by the tool belt and jeans he wore, so it was inevitable that the other parts of his body would be just as firm.

It wasn't enough that he had a good body either. His face had to be just as drool worthy with his blond hair that brushed his shoulders, his blue piercing eyes, and a scruffy beard that did nothing to hide the perfect lips, nose, and jaw line.

At least I could keep myself in check around him, granted it was probably only because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. If he did I really don't think I could keep from embarrassing myself by jumping his fine ass.

That being said I only had a few more months left and he'd be out of my hair. I could forget about him I think.

Shaking my head to clear that last part I checked the clock. Fuck it was already 7 and I've done nothing. I needed to get my ass in gear if I wanted to stay out of the office tomorrow. Hunkering down over my chapter I got to work.

It was around 11 when I finally shut the last manuscript and threw my pen down. Pressing my palms into my eyes I sat back with a sigh. Finally finished; now I could go home pack my little duffle for the next few days, take a shower, and go to bed.

Gathering all my stuff I switched off my computer and grabbed my cell phone. As I made my way out to my car I noticed I had a voicemail. I guess he did leave a message. Hitting the button to pull it up I put the phone to my ear and listened to the short message which only succeeded in pissing me off.

"Meet me. 9:00 tomorrow morning at the property. Don't be late."

Who the fuck did he think he was? I had half a mind to leave his ass hanging and not answer my phone while I was gone, but then he'd just bitch about it more and probably put off construction just for spite.

Resigning myself to the fact that I would have to deal with him first thing tomorrow I got in my car and made the drive to my apartment. At least I wouldn't have to go out of way since I had to pass my property to get out of town.

The next morning I got up around 8 and threw on some jeans and a black tank top. After braiding my hair I ate a quick breakfast before pulling my boots on. Making sure everything was locked up and turned off I grabbed my duffle, jacket, and helmet and made my way down to the parking garage.

I grinned as I pulled the cover off my black 1986 Harley Softail. It had been a complete piece of shit when Seth and I found it in the junkyard, but the summer after dad died with Seth's help I'd restored it to its former glory. I loved it and it was the only thing I drove on my days off, even in the rain.

After putting the cover into my car I secured my duffle and slipped on my jacket. Straddling my bike I put my helmet on and started the engine, reveling in the power that sprang to life under me. Taking a deep breath I pulled out of the garage and headed to meet the bane of my existence.

Twenty minutes later I made the turn off onto my driveway and wound my way back to the house. Pulling to a stop next to Peter's truck I glanced around and found no one, no workers and no Peter. What the fuck?

Huffing I slid off my bike, jerking my helmet and then my jacket off. I turned to yell for him when I stopped, finding him behind me. God he looked good. Today he was wearing his typical jeans and work boots, but instead of the white t-shirt he had on a white wifebeater. I'd seen his ink peeking out from his sleeves and neckline before, but never that much detail and it only made him that much more attractive. Fuck, Bella focus.

He continued to stand there staring, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. After a few minutes of silence and no movement from him I snapped, "What?"

"What are you doing here?" He asked finally pulling himself out of whatever his problem was.

"I got a voicemail to meet you here at 9."


"Are you drunk?"

"What? No why?"

"Because you're being weird. And where in the hell is your crew?"

"I gave them the day off."

"Whatever." I said not wanting to even go into the reason why. "What's the problem?"

"With what?"

"Fucking hell," I growled. "With the house?"

"Oh the kitchen."

"What is wrong with the kitchen?"

"Your floor plan….is that your bike?" He asked changing the subject mid sentence.

"Seriously? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. It's just your riding a Harley and you have tattoos." He said waving at the rain forest that made up half sleeves of ink on my arms.


"Well it's you."

"What is that supposed to mean? You know what it doesn't matter. If you must know it is mine. My best friend and I restored it ourselves. These…." I pointed to each arm. "Aren't the only ones I have. Now will you please show me what is wrong so I can get on with my weekend?"

"Um…sure. Let's head in."

I rolled my eyes and moved around him.

Once inside I made my way to the half closed in room and stopped. "What's the problem?"

"Your floor plan says you want a middle island with a sink along with a sink in the main counter?"



"Why what?"

"It seems kind of pointless to have two."

"Who cares? It's what I want and I'm paying you to give me what I want not ask questions or make comments about it."

"If I put two sinks in I have to add into the budget for supplies and the plumber."

"So? Shouldn't you have done that when you first got the plans?"

"I didn't notice it then."

"Well whatever just do what you need to do. Is that all?"

"Shouldn't you make sure it's okay with mommy and daddy before you up the cost?"

"Excuse me?" I asked barely containing my anger.

"I'm just saying that if you're going to add more onto…."

"You know what. You need to stop." I said interrupting him. "I don't know who in the fuck you think you are or what kind of preconceived notions you've decided to place at my feet, but you need to back the fuck off."

"Right like you're not some spoiled little rich girl who has never had to work a day in her life."

I laughed humorlessly. "Let me tell you a little story then Peter."

"Tell away Ms. Swan."

"I grew up in a very small town. My mother was a kindergarten teacher until a drunk driver hit her car head on, killing her instantly when I was 14. My father was the chief of police until I was 21 when a robbery suspect shot him, killing him a few hours later when he internally bled to death. Yes I do have money, but I would give it all back if it meant my parents would still be alive. I've worked from the time I was 16, even when I was in college and earning two degrees. And now I own my own publishing house. I work very hard and I don't need you…."

I was cut off from my rant by his body crashing into me, his lips working furiously against mine. What the fuck?

Bringing my hands up I shoved him away from me and asked my thought out loud. "What the fuck?"

He was breathing heavily but answered anyway. "Sorry. I just…fuck…your gorgeous…couldn't help….wanted to do that….first time….I met you…"

Wait what? Hold the fucking phone a minute.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.

He groaned and ran his hand through his hair before dragging his eyes up to meet mine. "Fuck it." He finally growled before continuing, "Bella, when you first stepped out of your car in that little black skirt and blue shirt all I wanted to do was press you back against it. I thought you were the hottest thing I'd ever seen. I assumed at first you were married, but then I didn't see a ring. When we had the issue with the trees I figured you, like I said, were just a spoiled brat who was used to getting her way and were just being a complete bitch because you could. It didn't help that I still found you completely attractive which served to just piss me off more."


"Because you were all I fucking thought about and I knew that there was no way someone like you would want someone like me."

"Someone like you?" I questioned while taking a step forward.

"A guy who always has dirt under his fingernails and would rather sit at home with a beer instead of going to a party or the opera."

"I've never been to the opera." I said moving another step closer. "Hate it in fact."

"Figures, since you shot all my assumptions right out the window when you pulled up this morning."

For the first time since I'd been here or had any interaction with Peter for that matter I smiled.

"You do know what they say about assuming?'

"You make an ass out of yourself."

"Exactly." I said before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down to my lips.

He responded immediately, brushing his tongue across my bottom lip. I opened allowing him access as he moved us backwards. My back coming in contact with a wall broke the kiss, but he moved his lips only to my neck, sucking lightly on the pulse point as his hands ran across my stomach. He moved them up dragging my tank with them; only moving his head long enough to take it all the way off.

His mouth found mine as my hands found the hem of his shirt and tugged it off his head. His sharp intake of breath told me he'd found another tattoo and his fingers tracing the hibiscus flowers on both sets of my ribs confirmed it.

"So hot," He whispered before capturing my lips again in a heated kiss. As he took control one hand moved around to unclasp my bra and pulling it free from between our bodies.

I let my head fall back against the wall as he moved to kiss down my body. He dropped to his knee, taking a hardened peak into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

"Fuck," I hissed at the pleasure that coursed through me.

He rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger before moving over to take it in his mouth. After a few more swipes of his tongue he moved back causing me to whimper. He gave me a sexy ass smirk before kissing down to the waistband of my jeans.

I watched with hooded eyes as he removed my boots and then popped the button loose on my jeans, sliding the zipper down afterwards. He placed soft kisses under my belly button as he hooked his fingers into the side and slid them along with my panties down.

I kicked them free when they met my ankles and he stood. My hands reached for his button and quickly undid them. Before I pushed his jeans and boxers over his hips he pulled a condom from his wallet. Kicking the clothing away he tore the packet open with his teeth and quickly rolled it on as he reached for me with his other hand. As our tongues met in battle his arms wrapped around me--his hands gripping my ass.

Squeezing firmly he lifted me up, my legs locking together around his waist. He moved one hand from my ass to line himself up with my entrance.

Glancing up our eyes met as he pushed into me with a hard quick thrust, making my eyes roll back into my head.

"Shit," He hissed as our hips collided.

He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in. He continued to do that a few more times before picking up his pace. God he was touching places I didn't know I even had.

"So tight…" He whispered against the skin of my neck.


He groaned and slammed into me.

"Just like that." I whimpered clawing at his back, trying to get him closer.

"I'm so close."

"Me too." I gasped. "Just…a…little….more."His hand left my ass again and wiggled it's way in between us. His thumb found my clit and started rubbing against it furiously.

"Yes," I groaned as the pleasure spiked. I was hanging on the edge. "Please Peter."

He dropped his head to my shoulder as he continued to rock his hips into mine. I felt his teeth brush my skin and then the pain as he bit into me. It combined with the press of his thumb against my bundle of nerves was enough and my world exploded. My walls clamped around him like a vise bringing his own orgasm on and we cried out our pleasure into the other's mouths.

Our breathing was ragged as our foreheads came together.

"Fucking hell," I whispered when I could manage words.

"Yeah." He said back.

Once our heart rates were back to normal he shifted his body, breaking our connection. I groaned at the empty feeling I was left with, but lowered my legs anyway. Peter removed the condom, tying the end off and threw it into a garbage can nearby, covering it with some trash.

When he was done he sank to the ground, propping himself against that awesome wall and pulled me down into his lap.

My head rested on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around my waist. We sat quietly for a few minutes and then I started to laugh as something occurred to me.

"What?" Peter asked nudging me with his shoulder.

"I never thought I'd christen my house before it was even built."

He chuckled. "Yeah and definitely not with me."

My laughter died off and I looked up. "I actually have a confession to make."

"You do have a husband?"

"No." I said shaking my head with a smile. "From the first time I met you I wanted to just lick you."

"Even when I was being an asshole?"

"Even then."

"Sorry I was so bad."

"It's fine Peter." I said, leaning up to kiss his lips. He responded by wrapping my now messy braid around his fist and holding me closer.

Pulling back slightly he brushed my lips with his as he asked, "So are these four the only ones.

I looked briefly to where his other hand was once again tracing my ribs.

I shook my head no and held up both wrists where a barcode was inked into both.

"The dates?" He questioned looking closer.

"The day my parents died."

His finger ran across both before pulling me into a hug and I was glad he didn't say anything.

After squeezing me tightly he asked, "Any more?"

I turned my body in his lap earning a hiss to which I smirked.

'The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them.' He read on my right shoulder and 'In the book of life, the answers aren't in the back.' he read across my lower back.

"Mark Twain and Charlie Brown, interesting choices."

"I am a book editor after all," I said turning back around. "What's surprising is that you know them."

"That beer I like to have at home is with a good book."

"I guess that saying is true then?"

"What saying?"

"You can't judge a book by its cover."

"Definitely." We fell silent again until Peter let out a sigh about ten minutes later. "I guess we need to get dressed."

"Why?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you need to get on with your weekend and I need to get in touch with the plumber."

"We could do that or…" I trailed off biting my bottom lip.

"Or what?" He whispered.

"By my calculations I still have nine rooms that you haven't finished yet."

He grinned and stood up so fast I blinked and was back on my feet. We started moving, but he stopped quickly.

"Wait, I don't have anything else."

Turning around I said, "I'm covered."

"Thank god," was his only reply as I pulled him laughing into the laundry room.


That's Monday. What did you think?

Jasper up tomorrow.