Jackson: A Sexy Bastard Novel Read Online Free

man reaching for her a second time made me basically lose my mind.
    I touch my face, prodding the various cartilage and bones. Everything seems more or less intact. I don’t even know what I did in there, but by the state of my shirt, I must have gotten up pretty close and personal with his bloody nose. Either that, or I’m actually bleeding from somewhere and I just haven’t found the wound yet.
    I roll up my sleeves and unbutton my top few buttons, then yank off my tie. Fuck this corporate uniform shit. I know that the uniform is sort of a given, but I feel like a goddamn Bible salesman in this get up.
    Glancing around, I see the same asshole in his blood-soaked shirt slumped against the wall by the back door. Just the sight of his lopsided, bloodied face causes my fists to clench. Fucking creep. I’m readying myself for round two when the back door opens.
    “I’m fine, I’m fine. Are you okay?”
    The girl from the club—the nose-breaker with the amazing ass and even better tits—steps out, her back to me. Involuntarily, I stop in my tracks, my eyes following the sensual curves of her body.
    “I’ll be okay when you get outta here,” another female voice inside groans. “Lord I’m gonna be in a world of trouble.”
    A man’s voice shouts something indecipherable from further inside the building.
    “Oh my god, Frank, relax!” the second girl shouts and then lowers her voice. “He’s back there talkin’ about calling the cops, for chrissake. Can you imagine?”
    The girl laughs. The shadows mask her face, but her voice sounds like bells.
    “‘Hello officer, there’s a 5’3” young woman here with a mean right hook . . .’”
    Both women laugh again.
    “But I win, right?” The bells have stopped and her voice is serious.
    “What?”
    “I win. I was already stripped down to my—”
    “Yes! Dammit, Sky, you win. You’re fuckin’ fearless.”
    The door slams shut, and the girl turns toward me. As soon as she sees me, her body tenses and she drops her knapsack, raising her fists.
    “Hey, hey!” I bring my hands up, palms open. “Peace. I come in peace.”
    She squints and then shades her eyes with one hand. I try again, shooting her my most charming smile. Or at least, attempting it.
    “I’m the guy who didn’t grope you.”
    A smile slides across her face, and she lowers both hands. Picking her bag off the ground, she slings it over her shoulder and continues toward me.
    “Hi.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Skylar.”
    I know I’ve just seen this woman virtually naked, but something about the way the plaid miniskirt she’s wearing brushes against her legs has me imagining my hands lifting the material and sliding my hands around to cup that perfect, luscious ass . . . .
    I give myself a shake and hold out my hand, but then immediately pull it back.
    “So, am I allowed to touch you since we’re outside of the club?” I wink, and she laughs.
    “I think a handshake will be okay,” she says, her voice husky. Almost a purr.
    I shrug. “I don’t want to end up like that other guy. His nose may never be the same again.”
    She laughs again and I take her hand. The moment we touch, I feel something inside me flare—a flash of desire, and something more, something darker. I see it in her eyes, too. That instant attraction that is all about bodies and pleasure and right here, right now.
    “It’s great to meet you, Prize Fighter. I’m Jackson.”
    We both pause, and then I release her hand.
    “I guess if things don’t work out, you could always have a career in MMA. Although you might be a little too pretty for that—I think they like their women with a little more testosterone.”
    “You don’t think these guns would cut it?” Skylar jokes, flexing her bicep. I reach out to give it a squeeze. Her skin is hot and smooth. I can only imagine how much hotter and smoother it gets beneath her clothes.
    “The guns would make the cut,” I finally manage, “but would you really