Sinful Southern Ink Read Free Page A

house, in his bed was a bad idea all around.
    He swiped the ball cap from his head and slapped it back on, tugging at the bill before opening the truck door. He leaned across her lap to release the seat belt—a hint of her usual vanilla-and-cinnamon scent still clung to her underneath the scent of whiskey. He scooped her into his arms and cradled her against his chest before she had a chance to slide to the floor.
    Abigail moaned, her head lolling to the side before she settled and snuggled in against him, burrowing her cute little nose into his shirt. “Mmm, you smell good.”
    At least, that’s what he thought she’d said. It was hard to tell at this point.
    “Let’s get you inside. You need to sleep this off. Tomorrow, you will tell me why the hell you tried to drown yourself in a bottle of whiskey.”
    “Bossy.”
    “Damn straight.”
    “He was bossy too. Mean though. Not like you.”
    Jed paused, one foot raised over the first of the wooden stairs leading up to his bedroom. “Who was mean?”
    Abigail never talked about her past and as far as Jed knew, she had no family—at least none that she claimed.
    He hefted her higher in his arms and started up the stairs. Giving her a jiggle, he asked again, “Who was mean, Abbey?”
    She didn’t respond, apparently passed out again.
    Hell.
    He stopped in front of the only guest bedroom he had bothered to outfit with furniture. Looking down at her in his arms, he couldn’t make himself put her in there. Whatever the reason, he wanted her in his room, in his bed. Besides, it made sense to keep her close, right? Just in case she needed something during the night.
    As he laid her down on his unmade bed, comforter and sheets still askew from his fitful sleep the previous night, his hand grazed the side of her breast and he jerked back as if burned. Abigail was his boss, his friend, and she was passed out cold. No matter how much he wanted to worship every lush inch of her body, he wouldn’t be touching her tonight—maybe never. He still didn’t understand his changing feelings, and though he suspected her feelings had begun to change for him as well, he still had Sherrie to deal with and he wasn’t one to fool around with more than one woman at a time. Besides, dating one’s boss was rarely a smart move.
    He allowed his gaze to linger on the fall of dark hair spread across his pillows, the smooth, pale line of her throat, down to the curve of her breast, then the dip of her waist. Forcing himself to skip over the apex of her thighs which was shrouded by her jeans, he concentrated on removing her boots. Like him, Abigail wore broken-in cowboy boots. That she wore her boots every day like a second skin was a major turn-on he hadn’t given proper consideration before now.
    After he removed his own boots, he placed them next to hers by the door and felt a pang in his heart at the sight of them there. One large pair, one smaller, side by side in his bedroom. It raised a longing inside him he thought he’d successfully beaten back years ago.
    With a trash can placed beside the bed—just in case—and Abigail still in her clothes but tucked under the covers, Jed headed into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower.
    Stripping off his clothes, he tried without success to ignore the woman sleeping in his bed on the other side of the closed door. He felt as if he’d had a hard-on all damn day and knowing he was about to share a bed with Abigail, even if he wasn’t going to touch her, swelled his erection to a painful hardness.
    He stepped into the shower, pulling the blue-and-tan-striped curtain closed behind him. Steam rolled over him—he inhaled deeply, catching a hint of vanilla and cinnamon that must have transferred to him while he cared for Abigail. Fuck, he loved her scent.
    Stop thinking about it.
    He lathered some soap between his hands, hoping the musk and pine scent would cleanse his mind as well as his body. He scrubbed his close-cropped hair with the