Nailed

  Nailed

  Tory Baker

  Copyright © 2018 by Tory Baker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, groups, businesses, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Wicked By Design

  WARNING: This book contains sexual situations, violence and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 and above.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Title

  Blurb:

  1. Emma

  2. Dex

  3. Dex

  4. Emma

  5. Dex

  6. Emma

  7. Dex

  8. Emma

  9. Dex

  10. Emma

  11. Dex

  12. Emma

  13. Dex

  14. Emma

  15. Dex

  16. Emma

  17. Dex

  18. Emma

  19. Dex

  20. Emma

  21. Dex

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Doctor For Hire

  Author Links

  Other Books by Tory Baker

  Blurb:

  The men in Dex Woodson’s family all have one thing in common. They know the exact moment they meet the right woman. They know it so much that they are ready to claim them right then and there.

  It’s always been that way, from Dex’s father to his grandfather and even his great grandfather.

  Call it fate, kismet, soulmates, whatever you want—Dex is a firm believer.

  That’s why the moment he lays eyes on pretty little Emma he is sure that she’s his woman. This stubborn alpha-male carpenter won’t stop until he claims her and he won’t let anything get in his way.

  One

  Emma

  Sometimes things happen out of the blue and you just know fate is at work. That’s what this is. It’s that moment you’re walking down the street and suddenly your steps falter because you see this man, this Greek Adonis that literally takes your breath away.

  I’m used to being the girl that’s unseen. I’m five foot six inches and I have curves in all of the wrong places. I’m okay with it, and even with the extra curves I like who I am. The one thing I love most about myself is my wavy, chestnut hair and deep brown eyes. I may never be a super model, but I wouldn’t want to be.

  The man I’m looking at now could be a supermodel. He’s that hot. But you can tell that’s not his lifestyle. He’s more at home in faded jeans than the latest fashions, plus he’s working with his hands. Big, beautiful hands that make me tingle just from looking at them. I really hope what they say about big hands is true… And a man looking like that, you just know he has magical fingers.

  His shirt is off, and his body is slick with sweat. It’s clinging to him, leaving his skin shiny and wet from working in the sun. My gaze zeroes in on a small droplet that is sliding down his throat. I have the urge to run my tongue against it and taste the salty flavor of him.

  Instinctively I know it will taste good. He would taste good. I shake off the thought. I don’t know what’s come over me. I don’t react like this to men. There’s a reason I’m still a virgin and live a quiet life. I’m shy, and what friends I have accuse me of being terrified of life. They’re not entirely wrong. I like things organized and calm. Nothing about this man could fall into that category and I can tell that just from one look.

  He has on soft, faded jeans that are ripped from years of washing, and a pair of work boots. A man’s man. But what really draws my attention is his arms. This man’s arms really are a work of art. They’re muscular—almost chiseled—and I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch them.

  I look up and he’s smiling at me.

  Oh, shit. He saw me staring.

  My eyes travel the length of his body, while I’m mentally kicking myself. I hope he at least doesn’t see me drooling. When my gaze makes it to his face, his smirk pretty much says it all. He not only knows I’ve been checking him out—he’s enjoying it. He even flexes his muscles. Oh god, I’m heated now. I might be tanned, but I know I’m blushing. I also know that he can’t miss the fact I’m embarrassed; I’m as red as a tomato.

  I start walking again and he slowly makes his way to me. I do my best to not look his way. If I can just continue walking, maybe he’ll stop coming my way.

  No such luck.

  “Hey,” he says and his voice is smooth and vibrates inside of me in parts I didn’t realize I had before. I might as well kiss my ovaries goodbye now, because he just melted them with one word.

  “Hi,” I answer.

  I feel flushed everywhere. I want to play it cool, but the minute I looked at him, that option flew out the window. I wring my hands together nervously and I can feel my heart hammering against my chest.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  I shouldn’t like that he calls me sweetheart. It shouldn’t affect me, but it does. His voice is almost tender when he uses the endearment and I instantly know that I’d do anything to make sure he always calls me that. I do my best to shake off this spell he seems to have me under. I need to remember who I am and what this is.

  I’m a girl who couldn’t hope to keep this man’s attention and this is… Well, I don’t know what this man is, but I know he’s not for me. Still, now that he asked my name my nerves kick into overdrive. I start mumbling to myself trying to get the words out.

  There’s a reason I don’t have a boyfriend—have truly never had one. Boys... Men make me panic. I usually spend my time around them second guessing everything about me. I’ve learned that it’s just not worth the trouble. The one or two I’ve dated are usually after one thing and when I explain I’m not ready… they disappear.

  “Um… My name, uh… My name is Emma,” I stammer.

  “I’m Dex. I couldn’t help but notice you almost tripped back there. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I say meekly. Never in a million years would I think I’d meet a man like him. Besides a body that makes a woman think of sex, he has sandy blond hair and green eyes that a girl could get lost in. All that is topped off with the most sensuous lips ever invented, and a killer smile. Yep, my panties have incinerated.

  “Thank you. I’ll just be, um…going now.” I turn to walk away, but he stops me with a touch of his hand.

  My eyes drop down to his hand—to both of them. His hands are rough from work, and most women would think rough, calloused working-man hands are gross. But all I can think is how they would feel touching me, scraping and teasing against my skin. My nipples go instantly hard. When I catch him staring, seeing the way they are pebbled and pushing against my shirt, I blush an even deeper red.

  “Wait…. Emma. I know I’m working and filthy right now, but I’m not about to let you walk away. How about we go out to dinner tonight? I’d like to see you,” he asks.

  My heart is now slamming in my chest. It’s beating so hard that I can’t catch my breath. I didn’t expect him to ask me out. I don’t know why he did. It’s clear I’m not his kind of girl. I instantly begin to shake my head no, and I look around for a means to escape. This man is trouble.

  “Let me take you out. I won’t take no for an answer, sweetheart,” he warns.

  “You won’t?” I murmur, and I have no idea how he can hear my question. I can barely hear it over the blood rushi
ng through my veins so loudly that it echoes in my ears.

  “I won’t,” he answers firmly. His hand is still on my shoulder and his thumb is brushing back and forth. I close my eyes because the touch feels that good. When I open them back up he’s still staring intently at me. “Just dinner, Emma. Let me take you to dinner tonight. I need to see you again.”

  Well shit. How am I supposed to say no to that? I read stories—devour them actually—about men that the author describes as alpha. I don’t think I’ve truly ever met one. I thought it was just fiction that was made up of words that no man could possibly live up to. I was wrong. Dex is definitely an alpha male. Everything about him screams dominance and… Sex. I’m so turned on that I think it’s possible I could come with just his thumb brushing my skin like it is right now. It’s probably insane to even think of agreeing to going to dinner with him. But I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.

  “I guess I’m saying yes then,” I tell him, smiling timidly. I don’t know who this person is that has possessed me. Blushing, stammering, and whispering…saying yes to a stranger.

  He pulls out his phone. “What’s your number?” I tell him and he immediately calls me. “Just wanted to make sure that’s a real number,” he says with a wink. All I can think is—do women really give this man the wrong number?

  “It is. I promise,” I tell him, confirming the obvious, since he just called it. I’m feeling like an idiot. I really should cancel. My brain obviously doesn’t work around this man.

  “I’ll call you when I get off work tonight,” he says, and then he does something I never expected. He kisses me. Me! He kisses me so lightly, it’s almost a whisper-like sensation. It’s a tease and I instantly want more.

  “I’ll be talking to you soon, sweetheart.”

  There’s that endearment again. He’s dropped the word so easily in this brief conversation. Actually, I think he’s used it more here than I’ve heard it in my entire life. Even then, it came from my grandmother or my mom. Never a man… and never a man like Dex.

  I think I’m in trouble.

  Two

  Dex

  Shit on a motherfucking brick. I leave for ten minutes to handle a phone call from another job site I’m working on, and of course one of my men plow over the water pipes. Jesus. This day just keeps getting crazier.

  I own a construction company. I’m a general contractor and we concentrate on rehabbing old homes and buildings. It’s my labor of love in this small town. I’ve always loved working with my hands, so when the opportunity came up I went with it. I’m a simple man and there’s something infinitely satisfying about building things with my hands and seeing the results as I go. When I drive down the street and see those results years later, helping to form the city I love… There’s nothing better. It makes it all worthwhile.

  I lean over, looking at the pipe I’m having to repair when one of my men yells, demanding attention.

  “Look at that knockout, Dex.”

  I look up and see what he’s talking about. My eyes light on a curvy brunette with a mane of hair that I’d love to wrap my hands in. Her gaze moves over me and I see her stumble. Jesus H. Christ. My heart fucking falters seeing her almost fall. When she catches herself, I see that she’s still looking directly at me.

  She’s about the prettiest thing I’ve had my eyes on, and she’s right on time. I definitely could use something beautiful in my life today. It doesn’t hurt that she’s checking me out. She’s doing it in a way that makes me smile. She’s not even trying to play a game to get my attention. Hell, I doubt she even realizes I’m taking her in. I am, however. Fuck. I’m all but drinking her down and committing everything about her to my memory. Her face, her curves—all of it, especially those fucking sweet legs I’d like to have wrapped around my head and my waist as I dive into her in every way I can manage.

  She doesn’t realize it, but she’s just become mine. It just takes one look. I know what I want, and she’s it. This is the woman I’ve been waiting on for what seems like my entire life. I won’t let her get away from me either.

  I will claim her soon.

  In my family the men know when they meet the woman they’re meant to have. It was that way with my father, my grandfather and hell, even my great-grandfather. I’ve never questioned it. I was raised to believe it would happen. I have seen the evidence of it and I knew I wouldn’t settle for anything less. She’s it too. Just looking at her makes me feel like I’ve been struck by lightning. I may not know her yet, but she’ll be on top of me, under me, riding me, and any other position I can think of and it won’t be long either. I have to have her soon. I’m already picturing everything I want to do to her.

  A vision of her bent over in front of me, leaning over the bed, sifts through my mind and I want to groan. Fuck, I’ll definitely be taking her from behind. My dick is throbbing just thinking about it.

  As I walk toward her, I see the sweetest little blush fill her face. I wonder if she’s ever been touched. At the age of thirty-two, I know a woman’s body. With the way she’s blushing right now, I have the feeling she’s still a virgin, and from the looks of it only in her early twenties.

  As I ask her for her name, I’m so engrossed in her that it’s like watching a movie. I’m talking to her, but it’s also like I’m standing in the distance watching it happen.

  Emma. Her name is Emma.

  I repeat it over and over in my mind, letting it sink down into every part of me.

  My Emma. She’s mine. Mine to hold, to touch, to love. She was made for me. I don’t care how crazy that sounds. I don’t give a fuck. I just know it’s true.

  If I need any further proof, it’s her voice. There’s never been anything more beautiful. Her voice makes me ache in all the right places. I could spend the rest of the day talking to her, but I don’t have that luxury right now. I push her. I know I am, because she has a frightened look on her face that makes me think of a doe caught in traffic about to run. I can’t let that happen.

  “Let me take you out. I won’t take no for an answer, sweetheart,” I tell her, and fuck if I’m not practically holding my breath waiting for her answer. I keep my hand on her, brushing my thumb lazily back and forth. I’m trying to calm her, but just the feel of her skin against mine is enough to make me go down on my knees.

  “You won’t?” she says so softly I have to strain to hear it.

  “I won’t,” I answer and look into her eyes without blinking.

  She needs to know I’m serious about her. I only breathe again when she finally agrees. I seal the deal with her number and that makes me feel marginally better. She’s mine now… I just have to wait until tonight. I’ll be calling her as soon as I get off of this fucking jobsite.

  I can’t resist kissing her. It’s a brief kiss, our lips barely touch, but it’s enough to taste her, to commit that taste to my memory and let it sink into me. It’s enough to know that this woman is mine. I watch her walk away, my whole body wanting to protest. I want to pick her up, carry her to my trailer and lock her in there all day until I can be with her.

  I know that’s fucking insane, but the feelings are there just the same. I manage to rein them in and when she turns the corner out of my sight, I manage to hold in my roar of protest too. My men are laughing and giving me shit, but I don’t care.

  “Get back to work, you knuckleheads,” I growl, turning my attention back to the pipe I was working on earlier. I can’t resist looking one last time in the direction that Emma disappeared.

  Soon, I promise myself.

  It can’t be soon enough.

  Three

  Dex

  After finally getting the pipe fixed, my crew and I begin to wrap up. I can’t wait to hear Emma’s voice again. Getting today in the books took twice as long as it should have, and mostly because I was distracted by her memory. What makes that even worse is that it’s too late to take her out to dinner tonight.

  Which fucking sucks.

  I can’t
remember ever thinking about a woman this much and I haven’t even touched her. Hell, just the promise of tonight with her has me feeling like my skin is crawling. It’s like she’s a damn drug and I’m itching for my next fix. I should be worried what that means. It should make me step back and breathe. But it doesn’t. I’m not sure at this point if anything can.

  I drive the backroads to my house, instinctively knowing that traffic would not be my friend today. I’m going through the motions and if you asked me about the ride to my house—I can’t remember any of it.

  When I make it home I have to resist the urge to call her right then. I’ve got the grime from a hard day’s work all over me. I feel filthy, so much so that I start stripping as soon as I walk through the front door. I head straight to the shower, hoping it makes me feel better.

  Walking around without clothes definitely helps my dick. I wouldn’t be surprised if my shaft doesn’t have an imprint of the teeth of my zipper on it. I’ve struggled with a hard-on all day—ever since meeting sweet little Emma. Having a stiff cock while working in the sun all day with a bunch of assholes who rag on me about her isn’t exactly fun.

  I’m not the type of man to get hard over a chance meeting with a woman, but she has me all kinds of turned on. Enough that when I get in the shower, the first thing I do is grab my cock in my hand and stroke it while imagining Emma on her knees.