Virgin (The Henchmen MC 16)

An hour later, my hair was trimmed - just barely - my fingernails were lacquered in a matte black that I knew wouldn't last more than the weekend since I couldn't wear polish and cook, my butt and back were getting a workout thanks to the massaging - and vibrating - pedicure chair, my feet slipped in warm water, waiting for the nail tech to come back. The music in the back was loud and soothing, quieting the noise in the front of the building, allowing you to lean back, close your eyes, relax.

Which was precisely what I was doing.

The air shifted, making me aware of someone taking the empty seat to my side. When no vibrating turned on, my eyes peeked open.

Did I find my brother? A woman from the salon?

Oh, no.

I found the star of my late night vivid, sweaty, torturous dreams.

Virgin.

"Big fan of pedicures?" I asked, hoping it would cover any possible longing that might be clear in my eyes.

Longing.

That was the only way to describe the deep, clawing ache inside.

A primal thing, surely. But also possibly more than that.

Ever since I found something I hadn't expected from anyone except my family. Acceptance. Maybe it shouldn't have surprised me after Abby had no issues with my past. But, I guess, I had been brainwashed into thinking no one would want to be my friend or want to date me because of where I had been. There was this niggling little voice in the back of my head that whispered What do you have to offer someone?

It was ridiculous, of course. Especially when thinking about an outlaw biker. It was silly to think that a man who made his living selling drugs - and then guns - would look down on me for my past.

But it had been a bone-deep fear until he had given me what I had been so desperately craving.

Acceptance.

Approval.

"'Bout to find out," he admitted, kicking out of his shoes and socks as the nail tech came back, filling his foot spa with water and salts for him to slip into.

My gaze slid down his long, solid legs to his bare feet, finding their appearance oddly intimate. You didn't usually see a man's bare feet unless you were close with them in a physical way. Or at the beach, I guess.

"If you didn't come here for a pedicure, why are you here?" I asked as the tech moved away again, an odd smile on her lips.

"'Cause West said you and your brother would be coming here today," he admitted.

"So... you're stalking me?" I asked, lips curling up. Maybe I should have been creeped out. But I found myself flattered by the attention from a man who could clearly have just about anyone he wanted.

"Lightly," he admitted with a smirk. "You could tell me to fuck off. I will. But something tells me you aren't gonna," he told me, leaning closer, dropping his voice a little, making the entire salon suddenly fall away.

Mouth suddenly dry, I had to swallow hard before I could get any words out. "Well, it would be a shame to miss out on your first pedicure," I told him.

"Eavesdroppin'?" he asked with a raised brow, making me follow his gaze to the woman I had thought of as the nail tech - blonde and super pretty with a determined sort of gait.

Her smile was at once amused and guilty. "Get over yourself, Virgin," she shot back, rolling her eyes at me like we were sharing in some secret. But I was completely out of the loop.

"I better not be getting ribbed about this because you pillow talk this shit to Pagan," he added, pretending to sound threatening when it was clear he had a soft spot for the woman.

A woman who pillow talked to a man named Pagan.

Which, well, had to be a road name, right?

Who else had a name like that?

So the nail tech was one of his brothers' women.

"Hey, how am I to blame if you're in here getting your spa day on?" she asked. "I think the Tickled Pink polish would go great with your skin tone, by the way," she added with shining eyes as she moved away. "Or, at least, that is what I am going to tell Pagan you picked."

"That's Kennedy," Virgin supplied when we were alone again.

"As in Kennedy's?" I asked, meaning the name of the salon we were sitting in.

"Yep."

"You're going to get a lot of crap for this, aren't you?" I asked, lips curving up.

His gaze slipped there for a long second before moving up to my eyes. "It'll be worth it," he declared, reaching for the remote on the arm of his chair. "So how does this work?" he asked, holding it up to me like this was the most natural thing in the world - sharing pedicures. Like we were the oldest of friends. Or the most intimate of lovers.