Virgin

by Gadziala, Jessica

  Glistening because they'd just been washed.

  By, it seemed, the guy who had kissed my hand at the party.

  West.

  "Hey, pretty lady," he called, wiping some sweat off his brow with the back of his heavily tattooed arm, giving me one of those smiles that women would be hard-pressed to find a better way to describe other than panty melting.

  I, however, seemed suddenly immune.

  "Hey West," I greeted him with a small smile. And it wasn't until my shoulder brushed his chest that I realized I had moved closer to Virgin as I spoke to his brother. "How are you?"

  "Oh, slaving away for these schmucks," he said, waving a hand toward the bikes.

  "Hey, at least you don't have to clean the bathroom with your toothbrush," I told him, knowing the horror of that from my adolescence. My aunt was many things, and one of those was a complete and utter neat freak. When she took us in, there was no longer a need to pay for her twice-weekly housekeeper. Why, when she had three sets of hands that could provide free labor?

  "You have clearly not been inside to see the bathrooms. Yes, plural. Because Reign is an evil bastard, each of those bedrooms in there has its own bathroom. And since I am the only probie, I am stuck cleaning them all. The horror I have seen," he said, shaking his head solemnly.

  "Sugar still here?" Virgin asked, his hand leaving the center of my lower back and out to my hip, fingers curling in.

  "Yep."

  "Tell him I will be back later to take over your schedule."

  "How much later?" West asked, eyes dancing, lips curled up. There was no mistaking the innuendo there.

  "None of your business, prospect. Isn't there a SUV you should be washing too?" Virgin asked pointedly, leading me over toward his bike, handing me the helmet with his free hand, seeming like he refused to let his hold of me go until West walked away.

  "Yes, sir," West agreed, saluting him, then walking toward the side of the building where the garage must have been located. "Hey," he called, popping back out. "Is it true there used to be a tank in here?" he asked, making my brows raise up.

  "Gonna have to explain where you heard that to Reign later. But yeah. It's been moved since the SUV is more practical now."

  "Hm. Cool," West said, but there was a light in his eyes like a little boy being told he could tour a fire truck for the first time.

  "He's gonna ask to see that tank," I told Virgin as I secured the clasp under my jaw.

  "Looks like it," Virgin agreed, dropping his hand so he could climb on his bike. "You gonna answer me?" he asked a few minutes later after we pulled up to Thad's apartment building, cutting the engine, waiting for me to climb off.

  "Answer you?" I asked, pulling the helmet off, putting it back on its spot at the back of the bike.

  "About letting me see you again," he clarified.

  "Oh." Yep. There was that eloquence again. "Sure." That was not much better.

  "You working tomorrow?"

  "Yeah."

  "Monday?"

  "Half day."

  "I'll pick you up there."

  "And do what?"

  I cringed a bit at that, the words sounding almost suspicious. Like he was going to kidnap and murder me. Which was only on my mind because freaking Abby had her true crime TV shows on nonstop.

  "We could eat," he suggested, almost awkwardly. Like he was no better at this than I was.

  I found myself somewhat charmed by that, flattered that I was the only woman he had come across that he felt the need to go on dates with.

  "I like eating," I said with a small smile. "Is there a dress code involved?"

  "Pretty sure anyone would let you in anywhere even in a sack. Wear what you want. What time you get out?"

  "Six. But I have to come home first to get changed. I will be covered in various substances by then."

  "I'll drive you home."

  "No, it's fine. I have my bike."

  "Baby, I have a bike. You have a bicycle," he clarified with a smile.

  "It has a basket," I told him, beaming a little. I really liked the basket.

  "Christ. You're making it worse," he said, shaking his head at me. "Alright. I will meet you here at seven then."

  "Sounds good. Aren't you going to... take off?" I asked when he just stayed there, watching me.

  "Yep. Once you're inside," he agreed, jerking his chin toward the door.

  Oh.

  That was sweet, right?

  The little skip in my heart certainly thought so as I gave him one last smile before making my way up the path, my shoes dangling from my fingers.

  It wasn't until I was safely inside the apartment that I heard his bike rev and pull away.

  And me?

  I sank against the door, smiling like an idiot, and incredibly thankful that my brother was not around to see it. Then shower me with questions. Demand answers. Answers I didn't really have.

  Like was this going somewhere?

  What were his intentions?

  What did I want?

  Well, I could answer the last one.

  I wanted Virgin.

  In a deep, aching, undeniable way.

  But I had never had much of a chance to simply want a man before. To experience something casual. I had no idea how - or even if - I would handle a situation like that.

  "Ugh," I grumbled, taking myself across the apartment, dropping down in my bed, those worries overtaking all the light, girlish excitement I had felt for a few short moments.

  It plagued me all night, making Thad claim I was a Debbie Downer and he was going out to find some more fun.

  It was still with me when I got to work the next day, Abby's eagle eyes watching me for a long moment.

  "What's his name?"

  Surprised, not thinking better of it, I blurted it out without considering it. "Virgin."

  "What? No fucking way! I know him. Well, I don't know him know him. But I've talked to him a few times. He's yummy. Does he fuck like he seems like he fucks?"

  "What way is that?" I asked, feeling my spine stiffen in a way that could be called protective, defensive.

  "Like he can make you scream god in tongues."

  "Oh," I said, choking out a laugh. "I wouldn't know. We have just run into each other a few times."

  "Well, when you bump into each other in the more fun way, let me know how it is. Promise? I won't stiff you. The guy meeting me here can make me come hard enough to forget my own name. He's dumb as a stick, but no one said I have to sit around and listen to him after. Oh, speak of the stick," she said when there was a knock at the door, prompting her to drag her giant hobo bag out from under the counter, hauling it up on her shoulder as she made her way to unlock the door.

  "Hey Abby," he said, giving her a long once-over as he stepped into the doorway.

  "Robby," Abby replied, eyeing him up as well. "We're going to my place this time."

  "Where do you live?"

  "About two inches above your face, sweet cheeks," she said, making me have to cover a laugh by slamming a pot down. "See? Right over his head," she said, shaking her head at his blank look. "Lock this door. And make sure the delivery guys lock the back when they come in and out too. Come on, Wallbanger. You have some work to do."

  With that, they were gone.

  And thanks to an onslaught of orders, I was able to drift out of my thoughts for the afternoon, half aware of the creepy show on the TV Abby never did tell me where the remote to was, working me up to a fit of nerves until the phone rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  "Hey, your plans with Mr. You'llSpeakInTongues aren't tonight, right?"

  "No, tomorrow."

  "Would you mind swinging a double? I will pay you overtime. Wallbanger must have been chugging energy drinks and wild yak essence because he is still hard as steel. And this girl needs as much stress relief as possible or I am going to have to take that script my shrink keeps trying to throw at me."

  "No problem," I agreed, shooting the recreated kid
napping on the TV a wary look. The restaurant didn't close until two in the morning. By then, I should be jumping at my own shadow with this crap. "Can I..."

  "Thanks so much. You're the best. Oh, well, yes, you may have a little snack..." Abby said, voice dipping low enough that I decided to go ahead and hang up before her end got decidedly X-rated.

  The orders died down around half after one in the morning, giving me time to load the dishwasher, wipe down all the surfaces, and leave Abby a note about what we were running low on for when she got in early the next morning like she always did to check on stock.

  With that, I took a deep breath, slipping the pocketknife Thad had given to me into my palm as I made my way through the restaurant to check the back door before going out the front where I would find my bike locked into the bike rack installed between Abby's and the store next door.

  My head peeked out before I moved outward, turning to lock the door then pull down the metal cage, locking that into the ground, making my way to my bike to work that lock free, my heart wedged pretty firmly up in my throat.

  "Baby, the fuck you doing here this late?"

  Yeah, so, I screamed.

  And not one of those kinda quiet inward breath screams.

  No.

  I screamed.

  Like a girl in a horror movie who has been haunted by ghosts for months and then someone suddenly grabs her shoulder out of nowhere.

  That kind of scream.

  "Christ," Virgin's voice hissed, his hand going over my mouth. "It's me," he added when my whole body jolted. "You good?" he asked before he let his hand drop from my mouth, making me spin to find him standing there, the streetlight casting him half in shadow.

  "Sorry. I'm jumpy. Abby has the stupid TV set to all those true crime shows. It's making me paranoid."

  "Paranoid in this town isn't a bad thing. But, Freddie, babe, the knife works better if you open it before a threat shows itself," he told me, reaching down for my hand, pulling out the knife, flicking it open. "Jab," he told me, closing my hand around it, then pulling my arm out to jab toward his chest. "Or slice, but this way," he told me, turning the knife so that the blade was parallel with my forearm when it lifted. "Your arm is stronger this way," he explained.

  Finding myself oddly breathless - and not from the scare - I swallowed hard twice before I could find words. "Were you waiting here for me?"

  "Honest answer? When I noticed your bike here when I drove home an hour ago, I figured I would chance a walk around at closing time to make sure you aren't driving that damn bike home at this hour."

  "Actually, my..." The flash of headlights stopping behind Virgin made my words fall away.

  "Brother?" he asked, half turning as the door to Colson's SUV flew open, his body hopping out, muscles tensed, ready to beat the hell out of the strange man with me alone at night... when my knife was out.

  "Wait," I said, holding up a hand, palm out. "It's alright, Colson. I know him," I told him as he got to Virgin's side in about two angry, protective strides. "He was actually making sure I was safe," I added as Colson sized him up. Virgin, it seemed, was doing the same.

  "Since when do you socialize with Henchmen?" Colson asked, and I would have sworn there was a hint of suspicion there, making my heart and belly sink to my feet.

  My head started to fall before I forced it back up, my jaw getting tight.

  "Oh, since I started selling illegal guns for them. This whole cooking thing is just a cover for my criminal activities. Once a criminal, always one, right?" I asked, bitterness dripping from my words, not even caring that we had an audience.

  Virgin's brows lowered, looking confused, maybe a little angry as his gaze went to my brother.

  "Christ, Winnie, that's not what I meant. You know that's not what I meant."

  "It sounded like what you meant," I shot back.

  "Alright," Virgin cut in. "I know this isn't my place, but maybe this isn't a discussion to be having right now. You're worked up," he added, looking at me.

  "Yeah, come on, Win. Let me get you home. You're dead on your feet. And you have to be back here tomorrow."

  "I'm taking my bike," I objected, jaw set to stubborn.

  "No you're not," Colson said.

  "Like hell," Virgin objected at the same time.

  "I am a grown ass woman. If I want to ride my bike home at two a.m. naked, then I can do that. And you can't do anything about it."

  "Come on," Virgin said, reaching for my bike's handlebars.

  "What are you doing?" Colson asked, stiffening.

  "I'll walk her back to the compound. Grab the SUV. Then drive her home."

  "You're not getting to know where she lives."

  "He already knows where I live," I shot back. Typically, I would be warmed by my brother's protectiveness. But I felt nothing but hurt and anger.

  "Jesus, Winnie..."

  "It's fine. Thanks for coming out anyway. But Virgin is taking me home. I will talk to you some other time."

  "Winnie..."

  "I'll make sure she gets home safe," Virgin assured him, making Colson's gaze move his way, sizing him up. Maybe I would have found myself feeling guilty for the way his shoulders slumped, his head ducked, but I was too annoyed right then to care as he turned, got back in his car, and drove home to his daughter. "You alright?" Virgin asked, voice quiet.

  "He cut off contact with me," I admitted, eyes avoiding contact. "For a while. After I was locked up."

  "Your brother loves you."

  "Yeah, but I don't think he sees me the way he used to either," I told him, my breath sighing out of me, defeated.

  "Sometimes our choices, our actions, do that to people around us. Or society. I don't expect everyone to look at me without suspicion when I am walking around with a one-percent badge on my chest."

  "The difference being that you actually did... you know... never mind," I said, shaking my head, ripping the lock off my bike, tossing it into my bag. "You don't know my story," I told him with a rare surge of honesty. "So you can't explain my situation to me."

  At his silence, I felt the regret course through me. Never having been someone who could be outwardly snippy or confrontational, the reality of being able to do so with him, this outlaw biker I barely knew from Adam, made uncertainty flood my system. My eyes slipped upward, finding him watching me with a gaze I could only call curious. Not offended. Not pissed. Just... interested.

  "Maybe you'll tell me your story someday and I can understand," he suggested, reaching to grab my bike, turning to walk, leaving me to jog up a few steps so I wasn't following behind him like a puppy.

  "Sorry I was snip..."

  "Don't gotta apologize to me," he cut me off, shaking his head. "We all have our moments."

  And he wasn't just saying that. He wasn't feeding me platitudes while passive-aggressively storing this away to use against me at some point down the road. Remember that time you were a complete bitch when I didn't even deserve it? No. He was just... okay with it.

  They call me Virgin because I don't give a fuck.

  That was what he said.

  Meaning he was laid back. Easy going. A roll with the punches kind of person.

  I couldn't imagine that kind of freedom.

  I gave fucks. I gave all my fucks. About damn near everything. I couldn't claim it made me happier to be that way, but I wasn't sure it was possible not to be that way either.

  Virgin led me back to the compound, loaded my bike into the back of the SUV, then opened my door for me. All in silence. Not seething, angry, or uncomfortable silence. Just silence.

  He was not a silence filler.

  I was used to Thad who was convinced every silence would be better filled with his voice. But I still found it enjoyable as he climbed into his seat, flicking on the butt warmer in my seat like he somehow knew after endless hours in a hot kitchen, the combination of dried sweat and tiredness was giving me a chill.

  Soft, oldies R&B hummed from the speakers.

 
And, apparently, the combination of the music, the heat, the gentle glide of the car down the streets was downright hypnotic.

  Because it wasn't until I felt a giant hand close around the area just above my knee and give it a gentle squeeze that I realized I had fallen asleep.

  "Home," he murmured when my eyes fluttered open, finding warm eyes and a matching smile only about a foot from my face.

  "I never fall asleep that fast," I admitted honestly. I was a toss and turner since going away, since I learned that sleep meant vulnerability and that some people like to use that vulnerability against you.

  "I'd claim it was because you're comfortable with me, but the seats are like butter and the butt warmers are like Ambien," he told me with a smirk. "I'll go grab your bike," he told me, leaving the car on so I could bask in the cozy comfort for another few minutes before I saw him standing outside the passenger side door, reaching to pull it open. Suppressing a grumble, I climbed out of the warm car, fishing in my bag for my bike lock for the front rack because I simply wasn't in the mood to try to wrestle it into the elevator and hang it up in the apartment. Thad claimed the building was safe enough to leave it outside without a lock. I was just going to trust him. And my padlock. "Still on for tomorrow night?" Virgin asked after I secured my bike and stood back up to face him.

  "Yeah. I promise I won't be so snippy."

  "I promise I can take it even if you are," he told me with a lip twitch.

  "Thanks for driving me home," I told him on the top step, turning to unlock the door.

  My hand barely got a chance to raise before the wrist got snagged, yanked higher as his body pressed me against the brick wall, pinning my arm above my head as his lips crashed down on mine.

  The brick scraped at the skin of my forearm. His stubble scratched the sensitive skin on my face. His body heat moved through his shirt and into mine, making a shiver move through me as my lips parted, demanded more. My free arm rose, grabbing the back of his neck, holding him as though he showed any intention of pulling away.

  His free hand slid down my thigh, sinking in behind my knee, yanking it upward, curling it around his waist as his hips pressed in. His hardness pressed against the aching need, making a moan escape me, only mildly muffled by his lips on mine.