Sinful Southern Ink Read Free Page B

body soap, not bothering with shampoo. Working the lather down his chest, over his arms and legs, he avoided his throbbing shaft.
    You can’t jerk off with your boss on the other side of the door. There has to be a rule against that. Just wash, get out, dry off, go to sleep. Don’t—
    His soapy hand skated over his shaft, dipped down to swipe across his balls and back up. He groaned.
    Fuck. Too late.
    A pearl of pre-cum beaded on the tip. He palmed his cock and pumped once, twice. He braced his free hand against the shower wall, letting his head drop forward and the spray of water hit his back just below the tender skin around the new tattoo. Already close, he thrust, pumping into his fist. Less than a dozen strokes had him shuddering in release, struggling to remain standing and twist the valve to turn the shower off.
    After drying off, he pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants, crept into the bedroom and slipped under the covers, taking care not to slide in too close to Abigail.

Chapter Three
     
    Abigail’s head felt like a large ax had taken up residence in the back of her skull. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to block out what was surely the brightest light on the planet. Her mouth felt furry and tasted worse.
    Why the hell did I think drinking was a good idea? Oh…right.
    Resolving to put her father out of her mind and seek out a big glass of water, or better, a cold Coke, she attempted to sit up. Immediately, she fell back against the mattress, crossing her arms over her stomach as if to hold herself together while a violent wave of nausea engulfed her.
    After panting through the urge to vomit, she cracked her eyes open, hoping she’d set a glass of water on her nightstand before she’d fallen into bed.
    That’s not my ceiling.
    She opened her eyes a bit more to take in her surroundings.
    Not my room, not my comforter, not my goddamn house.
    Starting to panic, she lifted the covers and confirmed her clothes were still on. At least that was something. Now, where the hell was she?
    Light-gray walls, dark wood floors, a sturdy dresser and night table along with the blue comforter on the bed told her she was in a man’s bedroom, but that couldn’t be right. She’d broken up with her last boyfriend two years ago and the worn batteries on her vibrator were proof she hadn’t spent the night with anyone since.
    So, where am I?
    Finally feeling as if her stomach might not object to her sitting up, she slowly leaned forward and scooted backward until her back rested against the thick, stained-oak headboard.
    Her breath caught in her throat and refused to budge.
    She wasn’t alone.
    The only thing possibly worse than waking up in a stranger’s bed after a drunken one-night stand was waking up in her secret crush’s bed with no idea of how she’d gotten there. Last thing she remembered was doing her best to crawl inside a bottle of Jack in her office at the shop.
    She felt both thankful and embarrassed over having been found and obviously cared for by Jed. Right now, with her memory playing hide-n-seek, yesterday’s clothes sticking to her skin, her hair in tangles and the most wicked dragon’s breath she’d ever woken up with, embarrassment was taking a front-row seat.
    One of Jed’s smooth, tattooed shoulders peeked above the dark-blue comforter. His body lay on the very edge of the mattress as if he’d been afraid of getting too close to her.
    No wonder, with as bad as I must look…and smell. Damn.
    Abigail scrubbed both hands over her face, rubbing at the mascara she felt gathered beneath her eyes. She slanted her eyes back to Jed, taking in his shirtless form and trying to decide if she hoped he had pants on underneath the covers.
    Her fingers clenched around the comforter until she’d made fists, stilling the temptation to tug the covers down far enough to see if she’d find a tight, naked ass, sweatpants, or maybe a pair of those obscene bikini underwear some men seemed fond of. Her nose