Shattered and Shaken Read Online Free PDF Page B

gorgeous, sweet dreams.”
    He exits the room, leaving me alone, heart racing, panties melted, and no clean clothes. Looks like I'm going commando. Hopefully, Sophie will refrain from old habits, and I won't wake up to her groping me in the morning; that's one way my bat ain't swingin'.
    Lying in bed, I toss and turn for what seems like hours. As I turn over, I see that the clock reads three in the morning. I've punched and fluffed my pillow, changed positions, slapped the covers, and even kicked Soph a few times - nothing's helped. I can't get Blake out of my mind. What happened between us keeps playing in my head. The way his hands felt as they grinded against me, the way his lips sent heat through my body, the way my sex throbbed for him as I felt his hardness against me. Shit. I may or may not be soaking Soph's sheets right at this very moment. Oh well.
    Sitting up, I exit the bed and go through her dresser in search for something to wear. Throwing on a tank top and thong - still with tags - I head for the kitchen to find something to quench my thirst. As I tiptoe down the hall, I come to a halt as my eyes settle on Blake's bare chest and his leg hanging out from the cover; it's not either one of the legs he uses to ambulate - if you know what I'm sayin'....
    Oh, sweet, sweet, sweet, baby Jesus - it's glorious. My brain's chanting “close your eyes, Allie, just close your eyes,” but my eyelids disobey me; they seem to have a brain of their own. It takes all of my strength, but I tear my eyes away from him and all of his glory. Quietly, I make my way into the kitchen and raid the fridge for a bottle of water. I scan each level, but there isn't a damn thing to drink. As I bend down to check the bend at the bottom of the fridge, a hardness presses against my ass, and two large hands rest upon my hips.
    “Thirsty?” he asks, his voice raspy.
    Why I'm still bent over looking for something I already know isn't there is beyond me. Who am I kidding? We all know why I haven't moved; I mean, would you? “Actually, yes. What the hell does she drink besides vodka?” I ask, rummaging through the fridge for a third time.
    He reaches an arm around my waist and pulls me back. “I took the last bottle of water she had.” He closes the refrigerator door.
    “Oh yeah? What's a gal gotta do to get a sip of that purified, crisp, ice cold water, huh?” Taking my hands, I slide them up his chest and rest them on his broad shoulders.
    “Depends on how much water this so-called gal is trying to take,” he shrugs.
    My mouth is so dry that if a droplet of water hit my tongue, it would sizzle like an egg hitting a heated frying pan. “You name it, you got it, big boy.” I tickle my fingers down his chest and tuck my fingers into the waistband of his boxers.
    “See, that little move right there just earned you ONE gulp.” Taking my hands, he leads me to the water; just like a camel. I follow him to the couch and take a seat. He hands me the water and I chug it all, sucking it until the plastic bottle scrunches.
    He's sitting beside me with his hands clasped behind his head and his feet resting on the table in front of us. “Damn, babe, you weren't kiddin'. I said one gulp, not one bottle.” He tries to look serious but fails as a smile slowly creeps across his face.
    “Sorry.”
    He reaches over and grabs me by the chin, turning my face to his, lifting it so he can stare into my eyes, “For what?” His brows furrow and I lift the empty bottle to give him a silent, but obvious answer. Shaking his head, he grabs the remote and flips on the television. I prop my feet up on the table beside his and snuggle into his side, resting my head on his chest; listening to the rhythm of his heart as my head rises and falls to the pattern of his breathing. It doesn't take long for my eyelids to become heavy and for me to fall fast asleep in his arms.

 
    Chapter Three
     
    THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up to something that feels like wood sticking