SIN FOR YOU: ROCKTOWN INK, BOOK TWO

by Gray, Sherilee

  SIN FOR YOU

  ROCKTOWN INK, BOOK TWO

  Sherilee Gray

  Copyright © 2019 by Sherilee Gray

  Cover Design: Cover Couture

  Editor: Andrea McKay

  Proofreading: Judy’s Proofreading

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Sin For You - Sherilee Gray - 1st ed

  ISBN

  Kindle: 978-0-473-48501-6

  Epub: 978-0-473-48500-9

  Contents

  Also by Sherilee Gray

  About Sin For You

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Sherilee Gray

  Also by Sherilee Gray

  Rocktown Ink:

  Beg For You

  Sin For You

  Meant For you

  Knights of Hell:

  Knight’s Redemption

  Knight’s Salvation

  Demon’s Temptation

  Lawless Kings:

  Shattered King

  Broken Rebel

  Beautiful Killer

  Ruthless Protector

  Glorious Sinner

  Merciless King

  The Smith Brothers:

  Mountain Man

  Wild Man

  Boosted Hearts:

  Swerve

  Spin

  Slide

  Axle Alley Vipers:

  Crashed

  Revved

  Wrecked

  Black Hills Pack:

  Lone Wolf’s Captive

  A Wolf’s Deception

  Stand Alone Novels:

  Breaking Him

  About Sin For You

  My best friend's sister is back in town, and while she’s here, she's under my protection. Quinn Parker had her heart broken, and I'll make sure no one hurts her again.

  But when she starts looking around for a hot, no-strings distraction, I can’t stand back and do nothing. No one is touching this vibrant beauty...but me.

  She’s the woman of my dreams, but Quinn wants a good time, not a long time. We play by her rules: no one finds out, no one gets hurt.

  I have to keep it casual because an ex-con like me can't offer her forever…even if I want so much more.

  Chapter One

  Quinn

  Rocktown, Montana

  My Honda Civic sputtered as I pulled up behind the bar for work. Hopefully it was just a cry for help and not a final death scream, because there was no way I could afford a new car right now. I needed my little rust bucket to hang in there for just a tiny while longer.

  As it was, the central locking no longer worked, the back wiper didn’t wipe, and the heater had given up a week ago.

  I shut off Old Blue and looked up at the night sky through the window as the light rain turned to fat icy splats. “Shit.”

  It was going to snow.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, not that I could do anything about it. But it meant I had a lot of driving ahead of me where I’d have to either dress like I was on an expedition to Everest or freeze my ass off.

  Despite the impending frostbite, this kind of weather, the snow, always made me feel nostalgic and kind of melancholy at the same time.

  Nights like this used to be spent with my dad and big brother, Mason, drinking hot chocolate and watching movies together. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

  I hadn’t spent a winter in Rocktown in four years. They were bitterly cold and insanely beautiful. The mountain range that surrounded the town would soon be totally covered in snow, the forest edging it blanketed by mist in the mornings then glistening with icy droplets in the afternoon sun.

  I’d come home around three months ago, taking leave without pay from my bar job in Portland. Thankfully, the owner was an old friend who understood my situation and promised to have a job waiting when I went back, because I couldn’t hide forever in my safety bubble, right? I’d have to go back to the real world eventually. Not quite yet, though. The memories were still too fresh, still painful, and not something I was in a hurry to face.

  I tugged my woolen hat down tight and shoved open the door. Wind that felt like it was blowing directly from the mountain soaked through my jacket, and I bit back a curse, hustling toward the back door of The Thirsty Mule.

  The bar was rustic, all recycled timber and warm lighting, and it had a big open fire that was always burning in winter. The thing was calling my name since my feet and hands felt like blocks of ice.

  Yanking the door open, I rushed inside. Back here was a break room, a staff-only bathroom, and an office. The basement door was open, and the sound of heavy boots clomping up the stairs announced my brother’s best friend before the top of his head appeared. Logan “Bull” Calero owned the place and had also recently become my boss—even if he’d needed some serious convincing to hire me.

  I didn’t know what his problem was with me, but I’d worn him down in the end. I liked working here. I liked being around Bull, even if those feelings were not reciprocated. Thanks to my brother and his insistence that Bull “look out for me,” I’d become the annoying little sister he’d never wanted.

  Bull’s broad shoulders appeared next. One of his massive colorfully tattooed arms, biceps bulging, supported a box on one of those monster shoulders. He didn’t even look like he was straining.

  Bull was big. Tall and thick. Neck, chest, thighs, waist, arms…everywhere. His chestnut brown hair was a little too long and his beard could do with a trim. He also had warm brown eyes that broadcast exactly the kind of man he was. Down to his core, Bull was a good man, there was no missing it. Honestly, he was one of the best men I knew.

  He could be kind and gentle, incredibly patient.

  He could also be grumpy and stubborn as hell.

  I liked it all.

  Bull was strong, solid—not just physically—and being around him was comforting, safe. I’d needed that more than anything when I first moved back to Rocktown, which was why I’d annoyed him for a job until he’d finally relented. I’d needed to be near him. I’d needed what only Bull could give me.

  His muscles flexed as he adjusted the box on his shoulder, the ink along his forearms and biceps dancing. Bull was covered in ink, not just his arms—not that I’d seen the rest under his shirt up close and personal, but I’d gotten glimpses. Like the time he’d tugged off a sweater and it dragged the T-shirt underneath halfway up his chest, or when he’d bend down and sometimes his shirt would ride up at the back. Honestly, it worked for him in a big way.

  His head turned on his thick neck, and he spotted me standing there and grunted. Which I could have interpreted in a c
ouple of different ways. “Hey, Quinn, nice to see you. It sure is going to be busy tonight” or “You’re ten minutes late. Shut the basement door after me and get your ass out there and get to work.”

  I was pretty sure it was the latter, but I answered like he’d “said” the former.

  “Nice to see you, too, big guy. Yep, it’s going to be insane tonight.” We had a live band playing and that always drew a good crowd. Even people from the more affluent Springhaven made the thirty-minute trip to party at The Mule.

  Bull frowned at me.

  I ignored his turned-down lips and lowered brows and grinned broadly at him.

  “Why the are you dressed like that?” he said, going for some actual words.

  I looked down at myself. “Like what?”

  He motioned to my hat and jacket. “For the fucking Arctic.”

  “Um, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but it’s freaking winter and it just started snowing.”

  “You walk here?” he said in that rumbling, ground-shaking voice.

  “Nope. I drove, but my heater crapped itself last week.”

  I pulled open the main door and held it wide for Bull. He carried the box through and put it down behind the bar. “Thaw out and then unpack this, yeah?”

  “Sure thing.” I spun away and…slipped on the water I’d tracked in. “Shit.”

  But before I could land flat on my back, a massive arm hooked me around the waist and I was hauled off my feet. Bull took three giant steps with me dangling in the air, then he deposited me back on my feet, muttering something under his breath.

  He released me and stepped back, but not before I got a dose of the intense heat radiating from his body.

  Bull was always warm—that was something else I liked about him. The man was like a giant grizzly bear, and I’d spent more than one lonely night imagining what it would be like to be wrapped in those colossal arms, held against that big body, warm and safe.

  I was a serious cuddler.

  And I wanted to be cuddled by Bull in a big way. I wanted to spend hours snuggling with him—preferably naked—after he’d covered me with that impressively sized warm body of his and screwed my brains out.

  I blushed and cleared my throat. And Bull, clueless about the direction my thoughts had gone, frowned harder. “You’re hot.”

  I sputtered. “What?”

  He tugged the hat off my head, shoving it in my hand. “You’re flushed. You’re probably getting sick. Get all that shit off.”

  I rolled my eyes, pretending my heart hadn’t just stopped dead in my chest and I hadn’t been hoping like hell that he’d meant something else entirely with that you’re hot comment, and smirked. “Such a charmer. Such a way with words.”

  He muttered something else and headed back behind the bar, ignoring my sarcasm, and I headed to the break room to dump my stuff and get control of my overheated state.

  Yes, I was well aware how clichéd it was having a thing for my older brother’s best friend. But it really wasn’t my fault. My crush on him started when I was ten, when Mase brought a sixteen-year-old Logan home after school one day.

  He’d been big then as well, and shy. He’d had trouble meeting my dad’s eyes, had ducked his head and blushed a lot. He’d barely looked at me. I didn’t even think he knew Mase had a sister.

  But the next week when Larry Winters, who was two years older than me and should have known better, lifted up my skirt outside Dino’s Diner, flashing my undies to everyone, Bull had come to my rescue.

  He’d witnessed my humiliation and had charged across the street, heading straight for Larry. Bull had towered over the boy, crowding him against the side of the diner, and looking him in the eye, had shaken his head.

  Bull didn’t touch him. Didn’t say a word. Just shook his head. Larry had peed his pants and run away.

  Then he’d looked at me and said, “Okay?” Yes, he’d been a boy of few words then as well, and I’d nearly swooned.

  I’d been smitten instantly.

  I remember being struck by how beautiful he was. The man still was, but now in an intensely different, uber-masculine kind of way. I hadn’t forgotten the gorgeous face under that beard, though. And those eyes. Yeah, they were still the same melted chocolate, warm and enticing, but so, so bad for you. Well, for me anyway. Because Logan had never shown even the tiniest indication that he was interested in me romantically…or, um, sexually. Nothing. Nada.

  The romance part I was more than happy to forgo and planned to avoid at all costs for the foreseeable future—sex was another story.

  It wasn’t going to happen with Bull, though.

  If anything, he saw me as an annoying little sister. Not what you wanted from the man who’d featured in your earliest fantasies.

  Who still featured in your fantasies.

  Only the stuff I came up with now was a whole hell of a lot hotter.

  I really needed to stop doing that.

  I hung up my jacket and hat, and used the mirror to fix my long black hair, tying it back in a high ponytail. As usual, I was wearing skinny jeans and a black T-shirt, provided by Bull, with The Thirsty Mule in white lettering across my chest. I glanced down at myself. Jeans were pretty much as dressed up as I got.

  My brother called me a tomboy, and honestly, he wasn’t wrong. But what did he expect? I was raised by a single dad in a house with two manly men who had no clue that underneath my desperate attempts to be like Mason, to be included in their hunting trips and fishing excursions, was a little girl kinda lost and confused after her mom died.

  That I’d been desperately trying to get my dad’s attention, some of his time.

  Don’t get me wrong; my dad was the best, he loved me and Mase and made sure we knew it, but he’d been lost as well. His wife, the mother of his children, had been killed by a drunk driver, and he didn’t know how to deal with that. How to cope with his own pain.

  He had no idea what to do with me a lot of the time. He didn’t know how to do hair, didn’t think to buy me dresses and hair accessories and all that crap I’d been secretly desperate for.

  I’d ended up wearing a lot of Mase’s hand-me-downs as a kid. I thought being like my brother made my dad happy, and that’s all I’d wanted.

  Now putting on a skirt just felt weird.

  The last time I wore a dress was to Mase’s wedding. I’d been a bridesmaid.

  Bull, of course, had been one of the best men, but Janie, my sister-in-law, had paired Bull off with her best friend, so I’d had to dance with Janie’s handsy younger brother—while I watched Bull dance with some other chick. He’d been all big and adorably awkward. And, God, sexy as hell in his suit.

  Bull’s partner, on the other hand, had been confident and gorgeous. The kind of woman who actually looked and acted like one. Yes, I know women came in all shapes and sizes and could wear and do and think whatever the hell they wanted. But sometimes I didn’t feel very womanly.

  That night I was painfully aware that she was everything I could never be. That was totally on me, not her. But she’d had the nails and all this gorgeous hair and perfect makeup. She was nice, too, really nice, so I couldn’t even hate her.

  Ugh. I was pretty sure they’d hooked up.

  I watched my nose screw up at my reflection in the mirror. Nope. I still didn’t like to think about that, and it had been three years ago.

  She’d gotten to have naked cuddles with Bull, and I never would.

  I sighed. And I still hadn’t worked out how to achieve what she had so effortlessly. The only jewelry I wore were the small silver hoops in my ears and a couple of things that had belonged to my mom. I wore her gold wedding band on my right pinkie, since her fingers had been so tiny, and a silver bracelet on my right wrist.

  Yeah, I dressed like a college student, not a twenty-six-year-old woman.

  Whatever.

  Letting out a breath, I shoved all that extra crap from my mind and left the small room.

  As expected, within an ho
ur the bar was packed. The band, Oblivion, was awesome as always, playing mainly covers as well as a few original songs. Everyone loved them, which was why Bull always booked them for Friday and Saturday nights. He’d make a killing and the locals would love him for it.

  The night passed in a blur of taking orders and delivering drinks. I didn’t mind being busy. Busy meant the night went fast, and it also meant great tips, which was always a bonus. I liked this kind of work, I liked people, and I loved music. All in all, working here was a win-win for me.

  Ezra, the drummer of the band, waved at me when they finished their last set. I’d been keeping their drinks topped up all night, making sure they had everything they needed.

  He grinned at me as I approached.

  “You guys were awesome,” I said.

  His grin turned wicked. “Yeah, I saw you dancing when you were supposed to be working.”

  I laughed. “Hey, I worked and danced. I’m a multitasking kind of girl.”

  He moved out from behind his drum kit and closed in. “You want to get a drink?”

  “Oh sure, what can I get you?”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “Nah, I meant do you want to have a drink…with me?”

  I blinked up at him. He wanted a drink with me? The last person to ask me out, even if it was just a drink, was Bevan, and look how that turned out. “Um…”

  “What time does your shift end?”

  “She’s busy,” a deep voice rumbled from behind me.

  I spun around and Bull was standing there, scowling.