Biker's Virgin (An MC Romance)

by Claire Adams

  She looked angry and narrowed her eyes at me. “You were the only man who ever turned me down, you know that? The rest of them jump at the chance. I know I’m hot, Jace. I work hard at it. I know you think I’m hot. I can see it on your face…and in your pants. Last chance, Jace; I’ll take you to heaven.”

  What she was saying was both vain and blasphemous. She’ll take me to heaven? No, she’ll send me straight to hell. “I can’t, Lily.”

  With an even angrier tone she said, “Fine! You ruined the plans for my life once, Jace. You were supposed to marry me, not God. We were supposed to have a life together.”

  Her face softened again as she gave it one last try, “You don’t have to be a priest; it’s just a job. I’m worth it.”

  “It’s not a job, Lily. It’s a calling. I’m really sorry, but you should go now.” She’d completely turned me off, the more she talked.

  She went over to the table and picked up her basket. She stomped angrily to the front door and stopped. “I don’t think I can just be your friend, Jace.”

  I just nodded. I was sad about that, but I wasn’t going to sleep with her to prove I wanted to be her friend. We would both regret it; I knew I would for sure.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Daphne

  I spent my day off running errands, cleaning my apartment, and doing laundry. Anything to keep from thinking about Jace, but it didn’t work. I still thought about him all the time. I wondered what he was doing. I wondered if he was with Lily, and then I scolded myself and then I wondered again.

  I wondered if I was just a horny slut or if he really was special. It felt like a lot more than lust, but I didn't have anything to compare it to. When I was at work, I would imagine him walking in the diner. When I was at home, I’d imagine him knocking on the door. When I went to church on Sunday, I sat in the pew and tried to act like I was listening to mass, when in fact, I was looking at him.

  He was so perfect; I felt so drawn to him. I couldn't concentrate on what I was supposed to be concentrating on when I looked at him, not even church.

  Contrary to what I’d been doing lately, I loved my church. I loved God. I loved being a Catholic woman. I didn't want my obsession, or whatever it was, with Jace to ruin that. But I didn't know what to do about it.

  Carla went with me to church and she tried to get me to go over and talk to him after the service. I wanted to, but he was surrounded by all of the “good” Catholics that had honestly listened to his words during mass and had taken them to heart, I’m sure. He didn’t have time for dredges like me.

  So, I steered her out of the church in a different direction so we could have lunch before she had to catch her bus home. She didn’t miss how distracted I was during our meal and was well-aware of what was on my mind.

  “Maybe you should just tell him.”

  “Tell him? You mean go to my priest and say, ‘Hey, I can’t think about anything but you. I get horny every time I look at you.’ Is that what you mean?”

  “It’s not the same as just going to your priest and telling him that. You had sex with this guy.”

  “Shh!” The waitress was walking by right as she said that. “I realize that, Carla. But the night we did talk and I tried to kiss him, he made it clear that what happened between us was over. Talking to him is not going to help. As a matter of fact, it might make things worse. Putting temptation in front of him repeatedly makes me a horrible person.”

  “Okay, then here’s what you do. Your next day off, you get dressed up really sexy and you go out. Don’t get drunk — that’s dangerous when you’re alone. But have a drink or two and loosen up, baby girl.

  “Find another guy to hook up with. Make sure you ask him what he does for a living before you have sex with him and if it’s not illegal or immoral, do it. Maybe that’s all you need… Sometimes all a girl needs is a good lay.”

  “Carla! That’s quite enough, thank you. I’m not going to use one guy to get over another one.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You know nothing about men.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She laughed. “Because it’s true, baby girl. Men don’t think of being used for sex as being used. They love it. They want you to use them. They’d stamp it into their foreheads if they could get away with it: ‘please use me for sex, any time.’”

  I laughed. “You have a very skewed perception of men, you know that?”

  “No, honey, I have a realistic perception. Do this and get your mind off the priest. He’s hot, granted, but lots of hot guys are out there just waiting for a hot girl like you. You’re killing yourself here. You’re boxing yourself in.”

  So there I was on Friday night, my first day off since we talked, not taking Carla’s advice. I had on my shorts and my tank. I ate a tuna sandwich for dinner and then set to eating gelato straight out of the container and watching a movie on the Lifetime network as I hunkered down on my couch.

  I don’t want to go out. I don’t want any other man than Jace. I’m messed up, I know…but wouldn’t I be even more messed up if I added another one-night stand to my list of offenses? I have no idea…

  So, I’m just going to sit here and eat my gelato before I screw anything else up further. I will just sit here and relax and look forward to Sunday morning when I get to see Jace again. Messed up, I know.

  I was about half-way through the movie. I’d finished the entire container of gelato and was seriously considering turning in for the night when there was a loud banging on my front door. What the hell? Who is at my door on a Friday night? I went over to the door and quietly looked out the peephole. Son of a bitch! It’s my father. Shit! He looks like hell, as usual.

  He was unshaven and his clothes were dirty. He looked like he’d had a plenty of whiskey already. I’d be willing to be that he reeked of it. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest; I could actually hear it inside my head. I felt like I could barely breathe, like something was clawing at my throat. My chest was beginning to hurt and I was suddenly afraid I was going to have a full-blown anxiety attack.

  He pounded again. It sounded like he was going to knock down the door. Shit! I had tried to tell the cop that pressured me to get a restraining order that it wasn’t going to help.

  What was I supposed to do now? Throw a piece of paper at him and that will make him leave? Maybe it would give him a terrible paper cut. It’s crap and the police have to know it.

  I got the restraining order the one time I called the police on him; that was one of the most traumatic days of my life. Yes, he’s a horrible man, but he’s my father.

  The idea of calling the police on him prior to that day had never even entered my mind, but I was trying to leave and he wouldn’t let me. I knew if I stayed, my life would be what it was forever and I couldn’t handle that.

  I had to get out of there to save my life, so I’d done what I had to do, and he had made sure I regretted it…so then I got the restraining order. Worthless.

  “Daffy! It’s me, Daffy! Open up!” He banged again. How the hell did he find out where I was? God, I hate it when he calls me that. It makes me sick. How did he find me? I know that Carla wouldn’t tell him or Bethany… There was no one else.

  I put in a forwarding address at the post office…was that it? I never considered that he’d be able to follow me that way. Damn it! It doesn’t really matter at this point. He’s on my doorstep and he’s going to wake the dead.

  One of the neighbors will call the police if I don’t do something, but what? He’s angry with me for leaving. I can’t let him in here. The only person I really know here is Bethany and she’s at work tonight, not that she could really do anything. Shit!

  My head was pounding with the beat of his fist on my door. I was beginning to panic. I didn't know what to do; I didn't know who to call.

  “Daffy!” He was screaming now, and I think he was using his feet, too.

  I suddenly realized that I do know one other person in town, but would it even b
e appropriate for me to call him? Would he come?

  “Daphne Lynn Carter, you open this door right now! We need to talk, and I’m not going away until we do! You don’t want me to have to break it down, do you?”

  Shit! I grabbed my phone and called Jace. It rang twice before he picked it up with a sleepy, “Hello?”

  Just as he did, my father beat on the door again. This time it was louder. He was definitely kicking it. He was going to break it or his foot soon. Either way, he wasn’t going away.

  “Jace?”

  “Daphne?” Suddenly, the sleepiness was gone from his voice. “What’s wrong? What’s all that noise?”

  I was whispering as I said, “Jace, I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I don’t know anyone in town… I’m scared…”

  He sounded confused as he said, “Daphne tell me what’s happening.”

  I wiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand and said, “It’s my father. He’s at my front door, and he’s drunk. He’s threatening to kick down the door, Jace. He will, too, and then he’ll hurt me.”

  “Dear God!” I hated the sound of people’s voices when they found out that my father is a monster. “Daphne, did you call the police?”

  “No. I can’t.”

  “Why? Daphne, you need to call the police!”

  I know I sounded hysterical, but at the moment, I just couldn’t think straight. “I can’t do that again! It didn’t do any good last time and it made things worse! I’m sorry I called you.”

  I started to hang up and he said, “Wait? Again? He’s done this before? He hurts you, Daphne?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that right now, Jace. I need to find some help or he’s going to hurt me again. I’ll let you go, I’m sorry.”

  “No! I’ll be there, okay? I have to get dressed, and I’ll be right there. Don’t let him in.”

  “I won’t. I’m pretending I’m not even here…but he still won’t leave.” My hands were trembling so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My father kicked the door again, hard.

  “I’ll be right there. It’s going to be okay. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

  “No, I want you to be safe driving over. I’ll wait for you. Jace?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you,” I whispered. I disconnected the call, reluctantly, and slid against the wall to the floor. I sat there with my arms wrapped around my knees, shaking and crying and hoping like hell that I hadn’t done the wrong thing by calling Jace.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jace

  I went from a dead sleep to infused with adrenaline in about 30 seconds flat. I had no idea why Daphne would call me instead of the cops, but I couldn't just leave her alone to deal with someone who was threatening her.

  She sounded scared to death. He must have hurt her really bad in the past. I had a hard time even letting myself imagine that. Every time I did, I was suddenly filled with an anger that I’d never experienced before.

  I’m a priest. I’m a pacifist. I’d never actually been in a fight. I’d trained for them, but that was always just supposed to be about exercise. I was never supposed to use it.

  When I first became a priest, I met this other young father that was completely ripped. I couldn’t help but notice and one day, I finally asked him about it. Growing up, all the priests and Bishops that I’d known had been older and most of them were soft and a little paunchy. I’d assumed back then that taking care of their body would be considered vanity and vanity is a sin.

  But this young priest told me about a new movement amongst the leaders of the Catholic Church. It involved being physically fit. Taking better care of the “temple” that God gave you.

  I started going to his gym with him. It was a gym opened by a devoutly Catholic family, and the man who did the classes and the personal training was one of the board members of our church. I started working out with him and because I’d always been healthy and athletically inclined, I progressed quickly.

  After about six months of intense daily work-outs, he started teaching me the basics of boxing. I’ve been doing that with him now for over three years and I wouldn’t doubt that I could take on any MMA fighter and come out on top, if I was so inclined.

  I’d never had the desire to beat anyone up, though…until that phone call. It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

  As I threw on my clothes, I said a prayer for guidance and one for patience. It wasn’t going to look good for the acting priest of the biggest parish in Lexington to get arrested for assault. I may as well kiss my career and any good reputation I had left goodbye. I finished my prayers on the road and assured myself that there was no way I’d be getting into a fight.

  When I drove up to Daphne’s apartment building, I could see her door. It faced the street and the outside light was on. There was a big man on the porch, and I watched as he kicked the door several times and then had to reach out and grab hold of the railing to steady him. I had to assume that was her loving father. Poor Daphne.

  I parked the car and tried to think fast. At last, I decided that feigning ignorance might be my best option.

  I jogged over to him. He was on the landing and there were three small steps that led up to it. “Excuse me, sir? Is everything okay?” I said it as politely as I could. I didn’t feel neighborly at all, but I hoped I sounded it.

  He glanced over his shoulder at me. His look was dark and menacing. He narrowed his eyes and said, “Mind your own business.”

  This wasn’t going to be easy. He was drunk and obviously an ass. I took a deep breath and said, “You seem upset, sir. I’d like to help if I can. I live here, and we don’t like any problems. I’ll have to assume you’re trying to break into that apartment and call the police unless you tell me what is going on.”

  “I’m just trying to get my daughter to open the fucking door,” he shouted the last part and slammed his open palm against the door. He was slurring his words together. She was right about him being drunk. He not only looked and sounded it — he stank. I was almost getting drunk off the fumes.

  “Who’s your daughter?”

  He looked annoyed again, but he said, “Daphne Carter…my Daffy…”

  “Well that explains it, sir. The person who lives there isn’t named Daphne…”

  “Oh, shut the hell up and go away!” he said, kicking the door again. He wasn’t buying my act any longer. “Daffy! Open this fucking door!”

  “Sir, I’m calling the police” I had my phone in my hand, and I was literally shocked when he swung around and kicked it out of my palm. It flew into the bushes lining the stairwell. My hand stung…and now I was pissed.

  Without thinking, I reacted. I reached up to grab him by the front of his shirt and pulled him down towards me. He tried to take a swing, but I had him too close, he didn’t have enough room to connect.

  “What the hell are you doing? Let go of me!” I tried. I let go of him with a shove, and he fell on his ass on the sidewalk.

  “Get out of here, this is the last time I’m asking you,” I told him. I was shocked at the feelings raging inside of me. If he was this willing to attack a stranger, what had he done to Daphne? He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and his fists were like huge bear paws. I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of him hurting her…of anyone hurting her.

  That moment was when it finally clicked for me: what I felt for her went way beyond sex. I was actually tempted to kick him while I watched him struggle to his feet. I almost made myself sick.

  I took a deep breath and watched him. I thought he was finished, and I was going to resist my urges and let him go. He turned his back to me and started to walk away. I had almost breathed a sigh of relief, when all of a sudden, he turned back and like a wild animal, he came at me.

  I could have stepped out of the way…I suppose. But instead, I chose to bring up my knee. It connected with the soft part of his gut and as he fell forward, it hit the underside of his chin. He w
ent down again. This time, he had blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

  I had to try one last time to talk to him. It’s what I’m supposed to do…right? “Please, don’t make me hurt you anymore. Just walk away. My intentions here are not to hurt you.”

  “Fuck you! You didn’t hurt me, you little pussy!” He wiped the blood from his chin and crawled back up out of the dirt, immediately taking a swing at me with his right arm.

  I blocked it with my left and threw out a right jab. It landed squarely between his eyes, and his nose started spurting blood. He covered it with both his hands. Blood oozed out from between his fingers.

  I couldn’t believe I caused that. In a nasally voice he said, “You broke my nose, you dumb fuck!”

  “Not yet,” I told him. It wasn’t broken. I hadn’t hit him hard enough. “But I will if you don’t leave, right now.” The most frightening thing about that was that I meant it.

  He looked like he might be drunk enough or stupid enough to say something else. I stayed in my fight stance wondering who the hell I was.

  If Max and Ryan saw me as I was then, it would blow them away. We used to spar as boys and I was always the one to give in first. Not because I was a pussy, but because I just really hated the idea of fighting.

  Finally, whatever good sense he had left kicked in. He dusted himself off, and with blood still pouring from his nose, he started to walk away. I tried to tell myself to just let him go, but I was beyond reasoning, even with myself.

  “Hey!” I yelled at him. He stopped and turned around to look at me. He still had a smug look on his face and God help me, but I was tempted to wipe it off. Instead, in a voice infused with rage, I said, “If you ever come near her again…or even call her…I will find you and I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?”

  In his nasally voice, he said, “Fuck you.” He spit on the sidewalk and blood went everywhere, and then he flipped me off before turning around again and walking away.

  This time, I let him go. I think I was frozen for several seconds over the shock of hearing those words come out of my mouth. I’m a Catholic Priest. Jesus, what is happening to me?