Abby: Sure. No problem.
A text bubble popped up with an address in North Charleston.
Tink: Park in the back. There’re stairs up to the apartment.
“Tinker is running late, so I’m going to meet him at his place.”
“Okay. You should take a change of clothes, just in case,” her mom said.
Abby rolled her eyes. “Mom, just because you got some recently doesn’t mean the rest of us need to jump in bed with a man.”
Sue waved her hand and left the kitchen. “Oh, don’t be so judgmental. And you’re right. You don’t need to jump into bed with a man.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I suggest a catapult?” her mom asked.
“Mother! I’m leaving.” She grabbed her keys from beside the door and left.
She and Tinker would get there eventually and, yes, she was wearing the dress, but that didn’t mean she was going to fall into bed with him on their second official date, much less spend the night. She tried to ignore the little voice in her head calling her a hypocritical prude. At least her mother had the decency to find a room with a lock and didn’t get fingered in the middle of a game of hide-and-seek.
Really, what did it matter at that point? Having actual sex with him was semantics. Part of him had been in her. They’d done a sexual act. Arguing with herself that it didn’t count was ridiculous. She needed to get over her internal hang-ups and admit she wanted to have sex with Tinker. Damn what anyone else thought.
Although everyone she knew thought she should be hopping into bed with him. Even her own mother.
And after last night… He’d held her, let her cry, and hadn’t pushed to make her share everything or even make it better. And he’d apologized and admitted he’d been wrong. And done it again that morning when he’d called and asked her to dinner that night. That was honestly sexier than seeing him in the tight black T-shirts he liked to wear.
Her GPS announced she’d arrived at her destination. She glanced at the two-story garage with Charleston Choppers painted across the front and drove around to the back of the building. It was technically in downtown Charleston, but on the north edge of the area, not in the bougie section of town.
Picking her way across the gravel to the stairs, she climbed up to the surprisingly large landing and knocked on the door. And waited. She glanced around at the surrounding darkness. If there were any buildings behind them, they were completely dark. She knocked again and, after counting to ten, pulled her phone from her purse and called Tinker.
He answered on the fifth ring. “Hey. You close?”
“I’m here. I just knocked.”
“Shit. Okay. Hang on a sec.” The line went dead.
The lock clicked as it turned and the door opened, but she couldn’t see Tinker. She stepped into an open, loft-style living room, dining room, and kitchen. The door closed behind her, revealing Tinker in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.
Her breath hitched at the sight of him, and warmth flashed through her as his gaze dragged up and down her body.
“Damn.” He locked the door and crowded her against it. His mouth on hers was as demanding as always, and they were both panting when he finally pulled back. “Damn. I need to jump in the shower. Make yourself comfortable—I just need fifteen minutes.”
He spun and headed across the space to a door on the opposite side. Abby watched the muscles of his back bunch and move as he ran a hand through his hair. She stared at the door he’d disappeared through and thought about what her mother had said.
Why couldn’t she jump into bed with him? Her internal judgment? Societal pressure to be a good girl? Screw that. What had being a good girl done for her? An ex-husband and single motherhood. She tossed her purse onto the dark leather couch and followed him.
A large bed took up most of the room. Simple bedside lamps lit the room. The shower shut off and kicked her heart into marathon speeds. If she was going to do this, she couldn’t be subtle. Go big or go home.
She slipped off her shoes and took the dress off, laying it over a chair in the corner. She sat at the edge of the bed facing the door to the bathroom and waited. It took only a few moments for her anxiety to kick in. What was she doing? The door opened and she froze.
So did Tinker, a towel wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his head and trailed down his chest, following the sparse hair on his chest and center of his stomach.
He ran a hand over his mouth. “Abby.” His voice was guttural. “What are you doing?”
“I thought we could stay in instead of going out.”
“You need to be really sure about this.”
