To Love Someone (Baytown Boys #14) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,18

his morning wood was something he could ignore. Just pure biology and anatomy. But today, the image of Samantha Collins stayed with him, and his cock wasn’t going to listen to anything his mind said.

He scrubbed his body and washed his hair, but his dick still ached. Closing his eyes, he could imagine her kneeling in front of him, her luscious mouth taking him deep. He palmed his erection, sliding his hand up and down its length, wishing it was her and not his hand. It only took a moment before his release blasted out, washing down the drain. He came so hard he saw stars bursting behind his tightly closed eyelids and couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he was deep inside of her. Snorting, he opened his eyes. Like that would ever happen.

Never a great conversationalist, there was something about her that short-circuited his brain. She’s got a doctorate degree, probably rich, and probably stuck up her own ass. As soon as that thought hit him, he knew he was wrong. He hated people judging him without getting to know him, and he couldn’t believe he was about to do the same thing with her. Even if she was rich, it wouldn’t matter. Hell, I know that better than anybody.

Drying off, he stalked naked into the bedroom and jerked on clean boxers and jeans. Pissed at himself for trying to come up with a reason for not liking her, he pulled the T-shirt on over his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

As though he had no control over his thoughts, he remembered everything about Samantha. Her arms were toned, and observing her strain to lift the heavy tarp-covered animals, he could tell she was no stranger to physically demanding labor, even if it was more than she could handle on her own. For a second, his own mother flashed through his mind… he’d never seen her lift more than a martini glass.

Pushing that thought down, he settled his mind back to Samantha. The jeans she wore were worn at the knees. The rubber boots on her feet looked like they’d seen better days. She was hardly tricked out in expensive clothing, even for a veterinarian at work. And her truck. Her piece of shit truck. Why wouldn’t she dump it and buy a new one?

Unable to come up with an answer, he shoved his feet into his boots and walked into the kitchen. He’d been in Baytown for two months and didn’t have a definite plan on when to move on. Strange… but he didn’t have the urge to roam yet, satisfied to earn his keep and help out his friends. He was still renting the apartment over the tattoo shop from Jason. Baytown was now in full vacation season, and he usually worked Friday evenings and Saturdays at the tattoo shop. Nothing very complicated. Nor very interesting.

Mostly for vacationing families, Baytown wasn’t a haven for college students looking for a wild time. Usually, his tattoos were for someone on vacation who decided on a lark to get their child’s name tattooed on their wrist or a Celtic cross on their shoulder. Sometimes it was more challenging. Two weeks ago, a group of bikers traveling down the eastern coast had stopped at the pub and several made their way to the shop, adding ink to their already-tattooed bodies.

Last weekend, it was a bridesmaid party. He made sure the women were not drunk and they knew what they were doing when they signed the forms. Three of them got butterflies, two of them got hearts and flowers, and the bride had her soon-to-be husband’s name tattooed on her shoulder. Hope like hell the marriage lasts or she’ll be regretting that tattoo.

Shoveling down the eggs and toast while standing at the counter, Samantha crept back into his mind, and he wondered if she had any tattoos. He’d seen her arms, clear as a baby’s. The idea of inking something into her perfect skin had his cock twitch again. Jesus, down boy.

Besides his weekends offering tattoos, he still worked as the tow truck operator. Jason hadn’t been wrong, there were plenty of calls. Throwing in the volunteer firefighting, he stayed busy. Busy, but with no particular purpose. He snorted, shaking his head. Since when did no purpose bother him since he got out of the Navy? He’d never found a vocation or even a job that held his interest for very long. Drifting had become a way