All For You (Rocktown Ink #5) by Sherilee Gray (world of reading .txt) 📕

and shoved the last bit of her sandwich into her mouth.

“You need anything else before I head back to work?”

Jimmy exploded from the lake suddenly, barking excitedly. He’d just spotted Mase and was running full speed toward him.

“Jimmy!” I called, scrambling up. “Stop. No.”

My dog ignored me and picked up speed.

Mase turned to my dog. “Jimmy, sit,” he said, voice low and commanding…dominant.

My dog stopped in his tracks, his butt hitting the sand a moment later, his tail wagging hard enough to start a sandstorm.

“Good boy,” Mase said, and rewarded him with a firm pat.

Jimmy smiled his doggy smile up at Mase, his look one of utter bliss. Mase lifted his chin, looking my way. “Sometimes a firm hand is all that’s needed.”

I swallowed. And again. “Right.”

“You just have to tell him what you want. He’s eager to give it to you,” Mase said, voice unchanged, expression blank.

Oh hell.

Did he know what he was saying? How it sounded? Or was it all in my dirty, desperate mind? I ignored the way my belly squirmed and the images his words conjured and went to take hold of Jimmy’s collar. My dog may have listened to Mase, but he was smitten with the guy—the traitor—and there would be no stopping him from following when Mase walked away.

“Later,” he said to everyone, then looked down at me since I was standing close and muttered under his breath for my ears only, “Nice suit.”

Then he walked…no, swaggered, away.

Mase

The woman was trying to fucking kill me. Could a persistent hard-on cause permanent injury? I was starting to think it could. It was also damned inconvenient.

First the lake, Trixie lying back, all smooth, inked skin and red polka-dot swimsuit. The platinum hair and red lips. She looked like a goddamn sexy-as-fuck, tattooed Marilyn Monroe. I’d tried not to look at her. I’d nearly strained something trying, but Trixie wasn’t the kind of woman you could easily ignore.

And now this.

You could walk away from the window.

Yeah, I could, but my feet were rooted to the damn spot.

Trixie lifted her hands, arms stretched up toward the sky…then she bent over. Right over, so her ass was high in the air. Yoga in the backyard, right under my bedroom window. She was in black yoga pants and a yellow sports bra, her blond hair piled high on her head. The woman was fucking gorgeous, and every time I saw her I had to remind myself why I needed to stay the hell away from her.

Why I couldn’t have her.

For starters, she was ten years younger than me. Trixie needed to be out having fun, living life. Fun for me was a game on TV and an early night, maybe fishing on the weekend. I wanted quiet after Portland, easy. That beautiful girl needed more than I was capable of giving.

It would be easier if she didn’t want me, too, but I sure as hell wasn’t the only one feeling this thing between us. Trixie broadcasted exactly what she was thinking on her expressive face.

And I was pretty damn sure she couldn’t stop thinking about our night together either.

Goddamn it.

Somehow, I had to resist her, because Trixie wasn’t for me no matter how much I wished otherwise.

The bell above the door jingled as I walked into Rocktown Ink. Not that I really heard it, not with heavy rock thumping through the store. Dane, Eves’s husband and Bull’s cousin, stood at the counter, head down, nodding to the music, fully focused while he sketched.

I approached, and he looked up and grinned. “Hey, man, good to see you.” He held out his hand, and I shook it as Grifter walked out from one of the back rooms.

“Mase, my man, how’s tricks?”

“Yeah, good.”

Dane leaned on the counter. “Bull mentioned he was working on your back piece tonight.”

“Now that I’m home, I can finally get it finished.” It was a slow process since I hardly came home while I was in the city. Bull had only been able to do a little bit at a time, and there was no way I’d let anyone else work on it.

The phone rang, and Dane turned down the music and answered.

“Bull showed us the sketches he did for you. Fucking nice piece,” Riff said.

I nodded. “Bull started designing it when we were in high school.”

“Lyla” by Oasis rang out from Riff’s phone, and he grinned down at it. “Gotta get this.” Then into his phone, “Hey, Bambi.” He listened and glanced at me. “Sounds good. You want me to bring dinner home?” A pause. “Okay, babe, see you soon.”

I caught sight of the wedding band on his finger. He and Lila were complete opposites. The shy librarian and the ex-enforcer for a motorcycle club. I still had trouble picturing them together.

Riff shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Bambi just told me about the party they’re throwing you this weekend.”

I grinned and shook my head. “Wasn’t given much choice.”

Dane chuckled. “It’s easier to just roll with it. And I have no problem with my woman drinking and cutting lose.”

“Nope,” Riff said. “Our wives love to dance. It’s a win-win in my experience.”

I laughed, but it sounded forced as my stomach gripped tight. I’d wanted that, had thought once you were married you had it all figured out. I’d been delusional, had no idea how much work it would be.

Janie and I had had problems for a long time, that was clear now. Ending things had been the right thing to do. But shit, sometimes the loneliness hit me hard.

“Yo, Cal!” a familiar, feminine voice called from down the hall.

“For fuck’s sake, Trix, use your damn legs, I’m not yelling across the fucking store,” Cal yelled back from somewhere else in the store.

“I need your opinion on this design,” Trix yelled again.

“You want me to check it out?” Riff yelled as well.

“Sure! But I want Cal, too!”

Riff headed down the hall, then Cal appeared from behind a curtained-off room and followed, both disappeared into