Biker's Virgin (An MC Romance)

by Claire Adams

  “Did we?” I asked.

  “Sort of seemed like it. Not saying that’s a bad thing or anything—he’s my boy—but, I guess I’m just not used to talking about another dude when I’m on a date.”

  “Is that what this is?”

  He regarded me. “Isn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I felt like I was a little quick to turn you down the first time that you had come over.”

  He shifted in the seat and leaned on the center console, his face now just a few inches from mine. Ben was certainly not bad-looking, but he just wasn’t my type. I could tell that he was going to try to kiss me, which wasn’t how I wanted to end the night. So I fumbled for the door handle and pushed it open, undoing my seat belt right as he leaned a little closer.

  “It’s getting late. I should get inside,” I said.

  He didn’t say anything for a second, and I knew he was waiting to see if I was going to invite him in. “Thanks again for taking me out,” I said.

  He shifted back and gave me a close-mouthed smile. “No problem,” he said. “Oh, and by the way, Cole has herpes.”

  Chapter Eight

  Cole

  I sure as shit wasn’t going to call or text Ben to find out how his “date” had gone last night, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.

  Okay, maybe more than just a little curious, because I found myself wide awake as the sun was starting to rise. Even Declan was still asleep. I tossed and turned for a few minutes and then finally got up, under the pretense to go take a piss. After I did that, I peeked out the window, just a glance, really, to see if Ben’s car was over there. It wasn’t. And then, all of a sudden, the side door at Allie’s opened, and she stepped out, wearing her running sneakers and a pair of pink shorts and a white tank top. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she walked down the end of the driveway, then took off at a jog down the road.

  I stepped back from the window, knowing that chances were good nothing really happened between them last night if Allie was going out for a run right now.

  Declan and I went into town to run a couple errands, and then he wanted to stop by the playground next to the Village Green, so we did. I pushed him on the swings for a little while, and then he saw one of his friends from school, so they went off to play together, allowing me a few moments to sit down on one of the benches.

  “I thought that was you!”

  I turned at the sound of the voice, right as one of the moms from Declan’s school sat down next to me. What the hell was her name again? I couldn’t remember, despite having been accosted by her when I’d been dropping Declan off just a few days ago. She had a way of waving her hands around when she talked, making the gigantic rock on her ring finger catch the sunlight, giving off a sparkle every time she moved. I found my eyes following that more so than looking at her as she spoke. What the fuck was she saying?

  “... ideas for a fundraiser.”

  “Huh?” I said.

  She blinked. “The year-end fundraiser? Will you be going to that?”

  “Oh, I didn’t even realize it was happening.” As I said this, though, I had vague recollections of seeing colorful flyers hanging up in the school hallway, demanding that I “mark the date” for some event, which was probably this fundraiser.

  “Well, it is happening, and everyone is very excited about it. This is mostly to replenish the scholarship fund—which we all know that you don’t use—but it still should be a great time. We’re doing it a little differently this year.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes. Usually it’s at the Harwood Center for the Arts, but we’re going to do it at Moose Lake. Outside. I think it’ll be great. I really hope you’ll go.”

  “Uh, I guess so.”

  She grinned. “Excellent. I know all the kids are really looking forward to it. Right, kids?” she called across the playground. Declan and the two boys he was playing with looked our direction.

  “What, Mom?” one of the boys asked irritably.

  “I said, ‘Aren’t you looking forward to the fundraiser?’”

  There was a moment of silence; the two other boys went back to digging in the sand. Declan looked at both of them, then at me.

  “Yeah!” he said. “We really are!”

  The mother smiled at me. “See?” she said. “They’re really looking forward to it.”

  And you’re a bitch, I thought, but I just smiled back.

  Ben stopped by later that night after work.

  “So, loverboy,” I said, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. “How’d it go?”

  It was hard to tell from the expression on his face whether it had been a success or not. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and I knew he was doing that on purpose, making me wait, letting me think that it might actually have been possible that he had gotten laid.

  “She wasn’t interested,” he said finally. “We went out and got fried seafood. That was good. And you know what? We spent most of the goddamn evening talking about you. It was rather strange, actually.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Both that you didn’t get laid and you had to spend the majority of the time talking about me. That must’ve been excruciating.” And while I did feel a tiny bit bad about that part, a larger part of me was thinking that there was no way in hell I was going to lose this bet now, especially if she’d been wanting to talk about me all night.

  “It’s cool,” he said lightly. “I told her you have herpes.” He grinned.

  “Ha ha, very funny.”

  “No, I’m serious.”

  I waited for him to burst out laughing and say that he was just playing, but he didn’t, and I realized that he was in fact telling the truth. “You fucking asshole,” I said.

  His grin widened, and he rubbed his palms together. “You know, I’m hoping the Pats make it to the playoffs this year. I think that’s what I’d really like to go see.”

  Chapter Nine

  Allie

  The last of the kids had just been picked up for the day, and I was in the back office, getting my purse. “Hey,” Amy said. “A couple of my girlfriends and I are going to go out after work tonight—do you want to come with us? I’ve been telling them about you, and they’d really like to meet you!”

  I smiled, feeling touched. “Thanks,” I said. “I’d love to, it’s just that tonight I have plans.” I paused, not sure if I should elaborate on just what those plans were. But I could tell there was a part of Amy that thought I was just making an excuse not to hang out with her, and I didn’t want her to think that at all.

  “Cole actually asked me to hang out,” I said. I had run into him that morning on my way to work and instead of just saying hello, as I’d expected, he asked if I had any plans later.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, shut up. Really? That’s crazy! Wow! What are you guys going to do?”

  “I don’t know, nothing too fancy or anything. Declan will be there too; we’ll probably just go get something to eat.”

  Amy grinned. “You’ll have to let me know how it goes,” she said.

  Cole’s car wasn’t in the driveway when I got home. I went inside and changed, then went and worked in the garden some more. Progress was slow, and the area I had weeded before I’d hung out with Ben that night appeared to have been overtaken by new weeds. There was something calming about being outside, working in the garden, and I resolved that I would keep with it. Even if it ended up being August by the time it was finally ready, I’d still plant something.

  I went inside to change after I got a blister on my palm. I wore a similar outfit to the one I’d worn with Ben—denim cut-offs this time, though, and a black T-shirt.

  I heard a knock at the door and then Cole’s voice calling into the house. “Anybody home?”

  I came out of the bedroom, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. “Hey,” I said. “Come on in.”

  He stepped inside, letting the screen door close behind him. “H
ey,” he said with a smile.

  “Where’s Declan?”

  “He’s spending the weekend at my parents’ house.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “You sound surprised.”

  “No, I just thought that he was going to be here, too.”

  “I figured maybe it’d be better if we didn’t have a chaperone this time around. You hungry?”

  “Yeah, I could go for something. Maybe not fried food, though.”

  “I know a good place.”

  The place ended up being a little place called the Blackbird Tavern. It was rustic and comfortable. I got a chef’s salad, and we shared an order of mozzarella sticks. Our conversation ranged from bikes, to how I was liking Chapin so far, to Declan. First, what a good kid he was and how much I was enjoying getting to see him at school. When there was a pause, though, I felt comfortable enough to ask Cole about Declan’s mother.

  “So,” I said, “you don’t have to get into the details if you don’t want to, but is Declan’s mother in the picture at all?”

  It was hard to read the expression on his face. He set his fork down and took a sip of his water.

  “She’s not,” he said finally. “It’s not really something that I talk about.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “You don’t have to get into it. I shouldn’t be prying like that.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mean it like that. It’s just... things didn’t work out the way anyone thought they were going to.” He seemed like he was about to say something else, but then stopped.

  “That’s true,” I said. “So much so that it almost makes me not want to make plans, like ever, because it seems like it’s just going to get completely messed up if you do. My dad took off when I was little.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I was young enough that I don’t even remember him, and my mother doesn’t have any pictures. She was pretty young when she had me, still a teenager, so it was definitely hard on her when he left. Not that it wouldn’t be hard on anyone, at any age,” I added quickly, not wanting him to think that just because he wasn’t a teenager when Declan’s mother had left him that things wouldn’t be difficult. “I know that things must’ve been hard for you, too. Declan’s doing great, though. He really is such an awesome kid.”

  Cole smiled. “He is, isn’t he? It’s such a cliché to say that kids are resilient, but they really are.”

  We were both stuffed when we finally finished eating, and I stretched as we walked out into the parking lot.

  “That was really good,” I said.

  “This is one of my favorite places.” He looked up at the sky. “The moon’s really full,” he said. “Want to go for a walk?”

  “Uh, sure,” I said. I couldn’t remember ever being out at night and walking in the woods before, which was completely different than walking around a city at night.

  “I love going out at night like this,” he said. “Walking, riding my bike, whatever. I don’t get to do that too much since Declan’s been around, but on the rare occasion that I get the chance, I try not to miss it. There’s just sort of something magical about it. I know a good trail we can go to. It overlooks the lake.”

  It was about a 15-minute drive from the restaurant. Cole was right; there was something magical about being out here at night, the moonlight spilling through the treetops, dappling the ground in a milky glow, casting cool, silver shadows. I was surprised how well I could see, and how, when I looked up at the dark velvet sky, I could see so many stars. That was one thing I didn’t think that I’d ever get tired of looking at, the way you could see so many more stars when you were far enough away from the city.

  And the air smelled different at night, too. The pine scent was more fragrant or something, and there was also a coolness there that wasn’t present during the day, when the sun was out. It almost felt like we were on a different planet.

  We hiked on a narrow footpath winding through the pine trees. I followed behind Cole, and we didn’t say anything, just walked quietly, until we came to a hill and a clearing.

  We sat there on the bluff, overlooking the pond, the water still, smooth, flat and unbroken as glass. I was aware of his body next to mine, the tops of our legs touching. He shifted, and his shoulder brushed against my shoulder, and then he was turning toward me a little, bringing his hand up to gently cup my chin.

  I let him.

  And when he leaned his head toward mine, and I felt his lips brush my own, I let that happen, too, even though I hadn’t been planning on that. I had planned to give him the same treatment I had given Ben, but there was something magnetic about Cole, something that made me want to let him kiss me.

  So I did.

  He was gentle at first, his mouth barely exerting any pressure, his fingers still gripping my chin, but then I felt him open his mouth a little wider, and the kiss became a little stronger, so I responded by pushing back against him, kissing him a little harder. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and without thinking, I bit down on it. Just a little bit, at first, but there was something so inviting—and rather exciting, too—about doing that, that I bit down even harder, and he let out a strangled sort of yelp sound and pulled back.

  I could taste a little blood in my mouth.

  “Jesus!” he was saying.

  “Shit I’m sorry. I didn’t... I didn’t mean to do that. I get a little carried away sometimes.”

  “I’ll say.” He brought his hand up to his mouth, stuck his tongue out a little, dabbed at it with the tips of his fingers. “I think I’m bleeding.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  He gave me a wary look, but he was only able to do so for a few seconds before he started smiling. “You’re a wild woman.”

  “I really didn’t mean to do that.” I felt bad, because that was probably the last thing he was expecting. “It’s not so much I’m a wild woman, it’s more like I’m...inexperienced. You’re only the second guy I’ve ever kissed.”

  He stared at me. “Yeah, right.”

  “No, you are. And the first guy almost doesn’t count because he was gay.”

  Cole laughed. “What?”

  “Yeah, this guy that I went high school with. Jordan. It was my freshman year, and we were at the homecoming dance, and a slow song came on, and I wasn’t going to dance with anyone, but then Jordan wanted to—he was depressed because the guy that he liked, who was most definitely not gay, was dancing with this other girl, so I said yes, and then he tried kissing me, and there was tongue involved, but it wasn’t that great.”

  “And that was the last time you kissed a guy?”

  He was looking at me as though he couldn’t believe it. Was it that weird? My mother was always giving me shit about it, but that had kind of made me think that it wasn’t so weird.

  “That was the last time,” I said. “So I guess the first and last time.”

  He was quiet for a minute. Then he looked at me again. “Wait a second,” he said. “So if that was the first—and last—time that you were ever kissed by a guy, until now, are you telling me that you’ve never slept with anyone before, either?”

  That coming out hadn’t really been part of my plan, either. “Um, yes,” I said. “That’s what I’m telling you.”

  “Wow,” he said. “Wow.”

  “So have you never met a virgin before or something?” I asked. “You’re acting like this is earth-shattering news.”

  “Well, it kind of is. I mean...you’re gorgeous.” I blushed, but I didn’t think he’d be able to tell in the moonlight. “Someone as gorgeous as you usually isn’t a virgin... I mean, I guess it’s possible, but...” His voice trailed off. I could hear the genuine confusion in his voice, as this new revelation had really thrown him for a loop. “I just wasn’t expecting that at all,” he finally said.

  “Which makes it sound like you think I’m some sort of slut,” I replied, kind of joking but also sort of not. “Though I heard that you’re the one with herpes.�
�

  “Yeah, that’s completely not true,” he said. “So, I can take a few guesses as to where you heard that—actually, I know exactly where you heard that from—and it’s entirely false.”

  “You’re not a virgin, though.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m also a 31-year-old man, so that shouldn’t be too surprising.”

  “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Fourteen? Really? That’s so young.”

  “She was 16. And definitely not a virgin.”

  We sat there quietly for several moments, and I tried to replay the past couple minutes in my head. How did we end up on this topic, anyway? Oh yeah—I had bit him. “How’s your tongue?”

  “My tongue? Oh, it’s fine. I completely forgot about that, actually.”

  “I guess that’s one way to make someone forget about an injury.”

  “It’s not that bad.” He regarded me again, squinting. “You’re really a virgin?”

  “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Sure, that’s fine.”

  But there was a long silence after that, and I tried to think of something to say, but everything that crossed my mind just sounded sort of dumb.

  Something out in the middle of the pond splashed, breaking the smooth surface of the water, sending ripples reverberating outward.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “A fish,” he said. “Trout, maybe.” I waited for him to say anything else, but he didn’t. He didn’t make a move to try and kiss me again, either. Finally, he pushed himself up, then held his hand out to help me up.

  “We should probably get going,” he said.

  We eventually found our way back to the car. I couldn’t figure out if I was imagining it or not—was there some sort of awkwardness in the air now? There seemed to be, or things weren’t flowing as they had before we’d gone up on that bluff and started to kiss.

  When we got back to the neighborhood, instead of just pulling into his driveway, he stopped in front of my house, put the car in park.