Sinful Southern Ink

by S. J. Drum

  A million questions flooded his mind but he forced himself to remain silent and allow her to continue at her own pace.

  “I’d never been to visit him. The prison is only a few hours away and I never went. Shit.” She squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath. “I was glad when they sent him away. I hated his guts and now he’s dead and the prison wanted my address to send me his personal effects.”

  Her gaze met Jed’s, her brown-black eyes shining with unshed tears.

  Jed reached over, pried one of her hands away from the coffee cup and curled his fingers over hers.

  “I’m not sure why I’m so upset. I think I feel so terrible because I don’t feel bad at all about the man being dead. I feel guilty for not feeling bad. Does that make sense?”

  “I understand what you mean.” He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I take it your dad wasn’t a nice man.”

  Abigail laughed, but there was no humor in it. The sound was more like broken glass and broken dreams all ground up together. “No, ‘nice’ was not a word anyone would use to describe my father. He’s the reason I moved to Clifton when I decided to open my own shop. I wanted a fresh start. I didn’t want to always be known as the girl whose father went to prison for killing her mom.”

  Chapter Four

  Jed’s hand clenched on hers until she tugged it free. The stricken, confused look on his lightly stubbled face was the reason she avoided telling anyone about her past. Next would come pity, then eventually, suspicion. She’d been through the same thing with everyone in her hometown and anyone she’d confided in since she left that godforsaken place.

  Abigail fought the urge to shy away from the topic of her past and forced herself to continue speaking. Looking down at the borrowed shirt she wore and the hot cup of terrible-tasting coffee clasped in her hands, she knew she owed him an explanation. When she looked up to meet his gem-green gaze, she realized she wasn’t as terrified of the prospect as she should have been. If ever there was a person worthy of her trust, it was the man sitting across from her now with a small frown tugging at the edges of his firm lips.

  “I grew up in a town a few hours from here. Jeffersonville.”

  “I know the place.” Jed’s blond brows drew together.

  “My entire life, we lived in a shitty trailer outside of town. Just my father, my mother, and me. My dad liked to drink and fuck around on my mom. He wasn’t home a lot, and when he was…it was hell.” Abigail sucked her lips in between her teeth and bit down, quelling the tears.

  “Go on,” he encouraged in a whisper.

  After a deep breath, she continued. “My mom wasn’t any better than him. If anything, she was worse. She’d been a drunk for most of my life but the year before my father killed her, she’d started doing meth. The woman never had a job and my father worked sporadically as a construction worker so you can imagine the things she did to get drugs. I always knew she screwed around on my dad. They were both terrible to each other and it never made any sense why they’d keep coming back to that dump of a trailer just to beat on each other. Seemed like everyone would have been better off if one or both of them had gone out one day and never came back.”

  She paused, thinking of how fights never stayed focused on just the two of them. Especially when she was little and couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. As a teen, she’d learned to stay away for as long as she could, most nights staying in the public library until 10:00 p.m. when they closed.

  “I know that after someone dies you’re not supposed to speak ill of them, but there was nothing good in either of my parents while they were alive and just because they’re both dead now doesn’t automatically make them good people.”

  Jed’s cell phone vibrated on the counter, the sound making her jump.

  His eyes slanted to the phone and back to her, dismissing the interruption. “Were you there when he killed her?”

  Abigail wasn’t surprised by the question, but she was surprised by the angry look on Jed’s face. She could tell he wasn’t angry at her, more like if her parents weren’t already dead, he’d be thinking about doing the deed himself. His reaction was a far cry from the pity, obscene interest, or suspicion she’d faced in the past. Most people tended to look at her and wonder how fucked-up she was from growing up in such an environment and witnessing a murder. Before she’d left her hometown, she’d always felt as if people were eying her, trying to figure out when she’d finally have that mental breakdown they’d all been anticipating.

  “Yes, I was there.” She thought about lying, to avoid answering the inevitable questions about the gruesome details.

  Instead of launching an inquisition as she’d expected, Jed did something amazing. He pressed his foot against her chair until it scooted back far enough from the table for her to stand, then tugged her onto his lap, wrapped his strong arms around her and put his chin on her shoulder.

  He didn’t ask how much blood her mother had shed or if she’d gotten any on herself during the ordeal. He didn’t ask any of the ignorant questions she was used to. He just held her, offering support.

  “It was 11:00 a.m. on a Saturday and I’d just stopped at home to grab some clothes before going back to my friend’s house for the weekend. As soon as I walked in the door, I heard my father’s truck tear down the drive and skid to a stop. I remember the gravel spraying the side of the trailer and how it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He stormed inside, straight back to their bedroom at the end of the hall, and kicked open the door. I stood in the hallway, trying to decide if it was worth getting in the middle of another one of their fights. My mom was lying on the bed next to a man I’d never seen before. One of her drug buddies by the look of the guy.

  “My dad started screaming at her about being a whore and bringing another man into his house, and she just laughed at him. I could tell by the sound that she was still high from the night before. I decided I wasn’t going to stick around and watch any more of it. As I turned toward the door, I heard a click and knew in my gut it was the hammer of a gun being pulled. I spun back around just in time to see my dad put a bullet in my mother’s head.”

  Jed squeezed her tighter, burying his nose at the back of her ear.

  “If my father caught me, I’d likely end up dead just like my mom. So I ran.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I ran into the woods surrounding our property. I ran until my side hurt so badly I couldn’t take another step and my arms and face were bloody from being scraped by thorns and branches. I had no idea how far I’d gone or in which direction. We’d never been able to afford cell phones so I had no way of calling for help. I walked and walked and eventually made it to a road I recognized. I was still too scared of my father finding me to take a chance of walking on the road or accepting a ride so I stayed in the woods and headed back to town. By the time I made it to the police station, it’d been almost twenty-four hours.”

  She sighed, the difficult part of the story now over. Relaxing into Jed’s embrace, she turned and put her arms around his neck, drawing in his unique scent of pine and musk and man. With her cheek on his shoulder, she felt him tense when his cell phone started to vibrate again.

  “Do you need to get that?”

  He finally had Abigail where he wanted her and his damn phone wouldn’t stop blowing up. It had to be Sherrie, still whining about their ruined night and demanding he take her out to make up for it. “Nope. If it’s important, they’ll call the house phone.”

  A thought occurred to him. “I remember something about a double murder in Jeffersonville a few years back but I don’t remember your name ever coming up.”

  “That’s because I changed my name before I moved to Clifton.”

  She nuzzled her nose against his neck and he prayed, for the first time in his life, that he wouldn’t get an erection while a woman sat on his lap, snuggled into his embrace.

  “What was your name before?” He shifted, trying to scoot his hips back in an a
ttempt to put some distance between her ass and his dick.

  “Ashley Dearhart.”

  “Abigail suits you better.”

  She wiggled, her hip bumping his bellybutton and her thigh rubbing across his shaft through the thin material of his pajama pants.

  Fuck, I should have put my jeans on. Or at least some damn underwear.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled against his shoulder.

  “For what?”

  “For not asking a lot of stupid questions. For being there last night, listening to me today. For just…being you.”

  Those small hands of hers started a slow exploration of his shoulders, his upper back, down to his biceps. Without thought, he responded by slipping his hands under the back of her baggy T-shirt and rubbing slow circles on the soft skin he found there.

  She twisted further, her hard nipples pressing against the fabric of her shirt and taunting the sensitive skin of his chest.

  “Abigail.” His voice sounded low, harsh with need.

  She pulled back and he searched her eyes. If there’d been a hint of shame or worry there, he would have set her back in her own chair and waited for another time to pursue this chemistry between them. What he found in the dark depths of her eyes was lust, determination, and an oh so sexy hint of vulnerability.

  He gave into temptation and pressed his lips to hers, clutching her to him as if afraid she’d get away. Her tongue darted across his lower lip and he opened for her, happy to let her be the aggressor—for now. She must have used his toothbrush because under the sugary taste of coffee was a hint of mint. After a few tentative sweeps of her tongue, a dam seemed to burst inside Abigail.

  She speared her fingers through his short hair, a moan escaped her and she devoured his mouth with abandon.

  Impatient, he lifted her by her hips and dropped her back on his lap with her legs straddling his waist. He wrapped one arm around her ass and pulled her against the erection now tenting his pants until they both got the friction they needed.

  Damn, Abigail was soft everywhere. Not too skinny, just enough flesh on her that his hands were happy no matter where they landed. He smoothed his palms over the swell of her hips, grasped the hem of the borrowed T-shirt and lifted it over her head before tossing it to the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Getting his hands on those perky, pale breasts and blush-pink nipples was the only thing on his mind as he looked at her bare chest for the first time. His mouth watered, wanting to taste the hard little buds on the tip of each breast. As he leaned in, thinking to wrap his tongue around one of those delectable nipples, she flattened her palms to his chest, stopping him.

  He froze, afraid he’d pushed her too far. When he met her eyes, he saw a devilish twinkle there that told him she wasn’t done with him yet.

  “I’ve been thinking about these,” she pinched one of his nipple piercings between her slender fingers and gave it a tug, “since the first time I saw them. Show me what you like, how to touch them.”

  He hissed in a breath when she gave both barbells a short, sharp tug. “Like that. Not too hard, but not too gentle.”

  She continued to tug and twist the shiny silver jewelry with a look of rapt interest in her brown-black eyes, her lips pursed in concentration and a sexy blossom of color over her high cheekbones.

  “Now, put your mouth on them. Suck. Pinch my nipple between your teeth just behind the piercing.”

  She ran her hot tongue first around one nipple, then the other, paying both equal attention before she fastened her kiss-swollen lips around one and sucked, flicking the barbell with the tip of her tongue.

  Jed’s hips shot up off the chair, bucking against her as she nibbled and toyed with his piercings. “Fuck! You’re a fast learner.” He panted, finally forcing her to stop her sensual assault. “You gotta stop or I’m going to come in my pants like a damn virgin.”

  A confident smile quirked up one side of those talented lips.

  “Don’t get cocky on me just yet, sweetheart. I haven’t had my turn yet.” He leaned in, the tip of his tongue a breath away from finally tasting Abigail.

  His house phone chose that moment to ring, the trill so loud they both seemed to jump and freeze at the same time.

  Determined to ignore it, he rested his head on her collarbone and waited for the ringing to stop. They were both breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling beneath his touch. He pressed a kiss to the soft skin over her collarbone and she melted against him.

  The answering machine kicked on and suddenly the sound of Sherrie’s phone-sex voice filled the kitchen. Abigail scrambled off his lap so fast she almost fell on her ass. They stared at each other while Sherrie unknowingly ruined any chance Jed had of getting Abigail naked and satisfied this morning.

  “…left you like five text messages and you haven’t responded. I’m starting to think you don’t like me anymore.”

  He could practically see the pout on Sherrie’s obscenely red lips over the phone.

  “Well.” An exaggerated sigh. “I’ll be ready and waiting when you come to pick me up for our date tonight. Unless you want to just stay in, finish what we started last night.”

  The crazy chick moaned into the answering machine then, as if that would somehow make him scurry to her apartment and tear off his pants. The only thing that fake moan managed to accomplish was prompting Abigail to snatch the discarded shirt from the floor and drag it on quicker than he thought possible.

  “On second thought, maybe I’ll just wait for you naked, in bed. Ta-ta, darling.”

  Mercifully, she finally ended the call.

  Abigail averted her gaze, staring out the kitchen window as she said, “I guess it’s time you gave me a ride back to the shop.”

  Jed squeezed his eyes shut and silently cursed himself for not following his rule of breaking it off with one woman before starting up with another. As lousy as it was, he couldn’t dredge up any feelings of guilt or sadness over his impending breakup with Sherrie. The only person he held concern for was currently slamming out of his house through the screen door.

  The springs on the door snapped it shut, causing an ear-splitting bang, a bounce, and another series of smaller bangs, adequately punctuating the end of his intimate interlude with Abigail.

  Jed hung his head and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

  Fixing things with Abigail was not going to be easy, but he would find a way. She was his woman, from the moment their lips met—she just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter Five

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Abigail stomped onto the porch after grabbing her boots from Jed’s bedroom.

  It was still early enough the sun hadn’t had time to burn off the dew collected on the painted white wooden steps of the porch and when she sat down to pull on her boots, she got a nice wet ass for her effort.

  “Great. Perfect.” Grumbling to herself, she stood and tromped down the steps, making no effort to be quiet. She knew it was childish but damn it, she didn’t care.

  How could I have forgotten about Sherrie?

  Sure, she didn’t like the woman, but that was no excuse. She shoved her hands deep into the front pockets of her jeans and wandered over to the corral closest to Jed’s truck. Propping one boot on the lower rung of the weathered wood fence, she raked a hand through her long hair and blew out a breath.

  She’d thrown herself at an unavailable man.

  “I’m never going to be a cheater and I’m never going to be the other woman.” How many times had she told herself that in the past? A hundred? A thousand? Abigail had always told herself she’d never be like her mother.

  She huffed a mirthless laugh and held her hand out to a curious buckskin horse that’d walked up to the fence.

  Now look at me, hungover and trying to ravage an attached man. God, how embarrassing. He’s probably inside right now trying to figure out a way to let me down easy.

  Although, Jed hadn’t acted as if he’d been put off by her advances. Of course, he ma
y have just been playing nice, hoping to spare her feelings. Did she have to choose the moment after unveiling her sordid, depressing past to climb on his lap and take him for a ride?

  The buckskin chuffed a hot breath over her hand and she rubbed the horse’s jaw, scratching with her blunt fingernails. The gelding leaned into her touch, stepping closer.

  Creaking hinges marked the opening of the front door before she heard Jed’s boots clomp down the steps.

  “Ready to go?” she heard him ask as he walked toward the truck.

  She patted the horse on the nose, turned and prepared herself for the ride home.

  Maybe I should just bring it up right away, get it over with.

  To her surprise, Jed stood on the passenger side, one hand holding the door open for her and the other extended, apparently to help her climb into the monster cab.

  She tried to judge his mood but his expression had been carefully blanked. Not wanting to make things worse by objecting, she slid her fingers over his palm. His long, farm-roughened fingers closed over hers and a warmth unfurled deep inside her. After he helped her into the cab, he released her hand, shut the door and rounded the truck to the driver’s side. Without his heated touch on her skin she felt maddeningly bereft. Damn, she couldn’t get used to having his hands on her. He didn’t belong to her, no matter how much she wanted it.

  Jed slid behind the wheel, now clad in a pair of faded Wrangler jeans that fit him so well she almost groaned at the sight.

  Don’t look at his crotch. Don’t do it. You can’t—

  She looked.

  His cock was clearly outlined by the snug-fitting pants. Even unaroused, it was an impressive sight which sent a shiver through her. She snapped her gaze to the window and promised herself she would banish any and all naughty thoughts starring Jed Weston from her mind.

  Abigail cleared her throat and started the conversation she so did not want to have. “Jed?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  She sighed at his too-familiar word usage and husky tone.