“Scout’s honor,” Zoe promised. “What’s going on?”
“Okay, I have a friend who’s in a bad situation and he’s staying with me for a few days but he had to get out of his place pretty quick and didn’t have time to grab some clothes, hence, the reason I’m picking up a few things for him.”
“Oh. Well, who is it? Do I know him?”
“No, no one you know,” Delainey assured her quickly. “Just a guy I met fairly recently and I want to help him out. No big deal.”
“But you like him, right?”
Damn that girl’s intuition. “I don’t know,” she admitted, not quite sure herself how she felt about Bronx. He was hot, for sure. He was dangerous, absolutely. And he had a lovely penis that she quite wanted to touch again — hot skin covering all that hard steel — but, well, she’d only known him a day. How could she possibly answer that question with any sort of real knowledge? “Can I ask you something about Jax and Hunter?” she asked.
“Of course,” Zoe answered. “What do you want to know?”
“Things happened pretty quick for you guys, I mean, they came into your life and before you know it, you were shacking up with them as their little love dove, right? Didn’t you think it was a little crazy that you fell so hard and so quickly for them?”
“Oh yeah, it was real quick. But when you know, it’s like a thunderbolt and there’s no denying how it makes you feel when you’re around them. Honestly, I know it’s not orthodox but considering our relationship, it seems pretty appropriate to the situation. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my bad boys.”
“Yeah, you seem pretty happy,” Delainey agreed wistfully. Was it nuts to allow herself the tiniest bit of fantasy involving Bronx? She’d already lied to him. It’d seemed a harmless thing but it was her own business and she hadn’t wanted to put out on blast the moment he’d asked. “You still sleep with them both?” she had to ask.
“Every chance I get,” Zoe answered cheekily. “I mean, it’s not always a sex-fest. We’re not maniacs or nymphos. Most times, it’s sweet and loving. And sometimes it’s just dirty sex. I adore both styles. And don’t ask me to pick a favorite because it’s impossible.”
“I can’t imagine,” Delainey murmured, thinking of Bronx. She didn’t think she could handle two men at once. Not that she had any practical experience because she was still…yes, a virgin. At the ripe old age of twenty-seven she was still rocking the V-card. How was it possible, you ask? Well, dating was difficult at best and frankly, she was always disappointed in the brief backseat fumblings from previous dates that she hadn’t been all that interested in seeing what else was going to happen. So…yeah, she’d held onto her V-card. But then Bronx had asked and she’d lied because, well, she’d been a little embarrassed to admit that she was lacking in the horizontal mambo experience. So there. Sue me. “You weren’t a virgin before Jax and Hunter, right?” she asked her friend.
“No, but I’d had precious little experience to call my own and frankly, after having been with Jax and Hunter, I’m not even sure I can call what happened with Teddy as truly being deflowered, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” Delainey agreed but then realized she didn’t know what she was agreeing to. “Actually, I don’t know what you mean. Isn’t it all basically the same? I mean, the act?”
“God no,” Zoe answered emphatically. “Girl, I thought the same thing until I was with Jax and Hunter. Boy, was I misinformed. Sex with someone who knows what they’re doing is a whole new experience — it’s better.”
What if she had no basis of comparison? What if Bronx was a terrible lover? What if he ranked as a zero on the love meter? She’d have no way of knowing. Damn, she should’ve lost her virginity years ago so she’d at least have some level of knowledge.
“Dee…are you…a virgin?” Zoe whispered. When Delainey remained silent, her friend gasped in surprise. “I thought…what happened to Garth? I thought you gave it up to him.”
She sighed. “Garth…well, I might’ve been willing if he hadn’t, um, started without me. He did his thing in his pants and then I think it embarrassed him because he never called me again.”
“Ouch. That sucks,” Zoe said in commiseration. “Well, you’re better off without a guy like him if he goes off like a cannon prematurely, you know? You want a guy who can last longer than six seconds.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Delainey quipped and Zoe laughed. “I hadn’t meant to stay a virgin this long but I guess I just put the V-card situation on the back burner.”
“So…this guy you’re helping out…you want to sleep with him?” Zoe surmised.
“I don’t know,” Zoe answered, unsure. “I like him. He’s hot. I’m talking underwear-model-hot. But…what if he doesn’t like what he sees when I’m naked?”
Understanding dawned in her friend’s face and as tears welled in Zoe’s eyes, they pricked Delainey’s eyes as well. “If he doesn’t like what he sees, then he’s an idiot,” Zoe declared, wrapping her arm around Delainey. “How does he act around you?”
“Sort of interested.”
“What do you mean?”
Delainey thought of the erection Bronx had been sporting earlier and she blushed. “I mean, he seems to like me.”
“Then forget about that crap the media force feeds us about men only being attracted to stick figures. It takes all types to make the world go ‘round, you know? My guys love my curves and chances are, your guy will too. Give him a chance. Remember how you told me to grab opportunity and live life in full color? Well, time to practice what you preach, girl.”
Delainey wiped at her eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s a lot harder to put into practice than I realized. I’m afraid he’ll reject me and I can’t take that kind of embarrassment. Reminds me too much of high school.”
Having known each other since freshman year, Zoe knew exactly what Delainey was talking about. The laughs, the jeers, the mocking stares and the worst — the false prom invitation — God, they were two girls happy to leave high school in the dust. Zoe put on a bright, brave smile for Delainey and said, “Leave your baggage where it belongs. If he seems interested, go for it. If he turns out to be a jerk, his loss, and move on. There’s a whole big world out there for women like us and we just have to stop allowing other people to tell us where we can go.”
Delainey nodded, bolstered by her friend’s advice. She was right. Why was she suddenly feeling so emotionally vulnerable? If Bronx didn’t want her, why had he practically invited her to jump on his dick and go for a ride? Maybe he hadn’t said as much in so many words, but his eyes had definitely said, ‘C’mon, girl, let’s have some fun’ and why shouldn’t she? She was a grown adult. No one could tell her who she could knock boots with and if it just so happened that her head was turned by a really bad boy with a gunshot wound…so be it.
“You’re absolutely right, Zoe,” she muttered, grabbing an iconic, retro T-shirt and a pair of jeans. “What do I have to be ashamed of? I’m successful, smart, and damn it, I might not be a size 2 but I’m pretty damn awesome.”
“That’s right, girl! You go hand in that V-card and have some awesome sex,” Zoe said, laughing, adding, “but wear some protection, yeah? No sense in getting pregnant on your first ride, like some people I know.” Zoe rolled her eyes at her own joke, referencing herself. She’d gotten pregnant so quickly after hooking up with Jax and Hunter that she’d practically been the poster child for unexpected pregnancy but now they had a beautiful baby boy named Gunnar James that at times looked like Jax and other times looked like Hunter and honestly, no one had a clue who had fathered that little cutie and that was okay by them.
Things had worked out for Zoe and Delainey was super happy for her but Delainey couldn’t help but suffer a twinge of envy. She wanted her happy ending, too.
Was that too much to ask?
***
Bronx needed a disposable phone. He couldn’t use Delainey’s land line because it could easily be traced
back to her place and his cell had been lost somewhere between holy-shit-someone-is-fucking-shooting-at-me and time-to-bug-the-fuck-out when he was running for his life, which meant all his contacts were also lost to him at the moment because hell, if he could remember a single phone number without his electronic cheat. Sign of the times, he thought with a sigh. When he’d been a kid, he could remember scores of phone numbers right off the top of his head because cell phones weren’t as common as they were now and even if they had been, it wasn’t as if he could’ve afforded one.
His mother, a junkie of the highest order, never put much store in food for her kid, much less the latest gadget. His first cell phone he’d purchased himself at the ripe old age of twenty. He climbed to his feet and walked to the bathroom to survey the damage. He gingerly pulled the bandage free. Delainey had done a good job of patching him up. His first bullet wound. Frankly, he was surprised it’d taken this long to get one. And he’d survived. He grinned in spite of the situation. Yeah, that shit was going to make a damn fine scar. Good street cred. But fuck, it hurt like a bitch. He turned at the sound of the key unlocking the deadbolt and Delainey walked in, carrying two bags. His stomach growled and he grinned. “You look good enough to eat but I’ll happily sample whatever the hell you’ve got in that bag.”
“Well, nothing terribly exciting, I’m afraid, mostly fresh bandages and some antibiotic cream to put on your wound so it doesn’t get infected, and a change of clothes,” she answered, going to the kitchen to start unloading. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore as fuck but hey, I’m alive, right?”
“Good attitude,” she said, smiling but there was something about the way she kept averting her gaze that made him suspicious. Had she ratted him out? Called the cops? He joined her in the kitchen, deliberately crowding her personal space. His wound screamed with the effort but he ignored it. “What are you doing? You should be resting,” she admonished, but her hands had begun to shake. The tremble caught his eye and he met her gaze even as she began to ramble a bit about shit he couldn’t bring himself to care about but he was intrigued by the way he obviously affected her. Kinda sexy, actually. Everything about her was soft and squeezable, he noted with sudden interest. Her hands fluttered in some semblance of pretending to measure his hip size, saying, “I guessed at your size, I hope the jeans fit,” holding up the jeans as if they would protect her.
He pushed the jeans away, his gaze never leaving hers. “I don’t know…right about now the idea of being buck naked sounds pretty good.” Such a cute, curvy chick, he thought, his gaze roaming her body before returning to her pretty eyes. He wasn’t usually attracted to big women but there was something about Delainey that tripped his switch in a crazy way. Was that bad? Probably. But his cock didn’t seem to care. No, in fact, the randy thing seemed pretty on-board with the idea of getting naked with Delainey. However, business first. Why was she so jumpy? Guilt and arousal could look the same on her guileless face. He supposed there was one way to find out.
“Oh! Naked? Funny…but probably not practical,” she returned breathlessly, her pupils dilating as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I mean…kinda drafty, if you know what I mean. Not that I’m a prude or anything like that. It’s not like you’re the first naked man I’ve ever seen. If you’ve seen one guy with his man parts hanging out, you’ve seen them all, right?” Her nervous laughter had guilt written all over it — as did the way she couldn’t quite keep his gaze.
“Something you need to tell me?” he asked dangerously. “You’ll feel better if you get it off your chest.” Heaven help her if she narced him out. He pushed a lock of strawberry blonde hair away from her shoulder, exposing her lovely, soft neck. “What did you do while you were out and about, Miss Jones?” Her mouth hinged on a protest but nothing came out, which seemed highly indicative that she was hiding something. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart? C’mon, we’re all friends here…just tell me what you did…did you call the cops?”
That seemed to land wrong and she immediately scowled. “No, why would I do that?” she asked. “Are you asking me if I ratted you out? I know you don’t know me very well but I have a highly ingrained sense of integrity. If I were going to call the cops, I would’ve done it the moment I found you passed out, bleeding all over my floor, not after I just spent $80 on new clothes for you.”
He believed her. Trust didn’t come naturally to him — hell, his general mistrust of people had kept him alive — but he knew in his gut that Delainey was being truthful. Relief came from an unexpected place and his arousal spiked at her show of spunk. “You’re not an easy woman to figure out,” he admitted, chuckling at her flash of indignation.
“I don’t know about that,” she disagreed. “I’m a pretty simple girl with basic needs…such as the need for a little breathing room.” She pushed gently at his chest and he laughed as he gave in to her not-so-subtle request. Well, he had been crowding her so he supposed she wasn’t off-base in asking him to back off. But you know what? He’d liked being in her space. Once he’d taken a step back, she drew a shaky breath and tried smiling. “See? Much better. Personal space bubble — good.”
He allowed a small smile. “So, what’s with the secrecy then? You have a terrible poker face, sweet girl. Whatever you’re feeling scrolls right across your cute little face. Just so you know.”
“It’s nothing,” Delainey assured him even as she looked away, guilty as hell, but whatever she was holding onto, she wasn’t up to sharing and frankly, if it was personal, he was happy to leave it there as long as it didn’t involve cops and handcuffs. She bit her lip to ask, “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, I could eat. Are you offering?”
“Well, you are my guest. I can’t very well let you starve. I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich,” she said, seemingly relieved that he was switching tracks. But he’d had enough of small talk. Just as she started with, “The secret is to use three flavorful cheeses and sear the bread first but then—“ he jerked her into his arms and silenced her with his lips, less interested in eating than in tasting that sassy mouth. His tongue explored the seam of her lips, eager to taste her sweetness when she gasped and stumbled, slipping from his grip and going straight to the floor in a heap with a dainty “Ohh!” that immediately sent color scurrying to her cheeks even as she stared up at him, wonder and suspicion in her stare to demand, “Why did you do that?”
Her bald question made him laugh as he helped her up. “Because I wanted to,” he answered without any hint of apology because he wasn’t sorry. She tasted like summer rain and picnics spent at the lake — in other words, she tasted like a world he’d never had the privilege of knowing — and he wanted more. Her hand remained in his, a fact he didn’t miss, and he drew her close, daring her to pull away. She went without resistance and he knew she was as good as beneath him, crying out, shaking and moaning as he gave it to her as good as she’s ever had. A knowing smirk curved his lips as he made an indecent suggestion that he knew would shock the curls from her head.
“Miss Jones, how about we go work up an appetite by fucking each other’s brains out?”
Oh yeah…shock and…was that delight? Hell yes. This girl kept him guessing. And he liked that.
He liked it, a lot.
***
He’d kissed her and she’d gone straight to the floor like a dropped round of uncooked pizza dough. And then he’d just suggested they do what? “Excuse me?” she managed, trying to sound dignified and maybe even a little insulted by his bold suggestion but the fact was, she felt all slippery in her downstairs region and she knew from reading enough romance novels that that meant she was really aroused. Sidenote, how pathetic was it that her only point of reference for anything sexual was what she’d managed to find between the pages of her sultry reading material? Ugh. “I’m sorry…I’m not that kind of girl,” she heard herself say even though she was practically raping him with her eyes. Shame on you, for not being able to grab onto your opportunity!
Big talker. Pfffft. You ought to be giving that sexy man a tongue bath!
“What kind of girl would that be?” he asked, pulling his shirt free from his body, teasing her with all of that hot, muscular manly goodness that she’d only ever seen on television. He grinned when her mouth dropped open a little. He began plucking at his jean buttons and she squeaked as she covered her mouth, too afraid of what might fall from her lips. “A girl who knows what she wants and goes after it?” he suggested, tugging the button free with a pop.
“Oh!” Her cheeks flamed but her eyes were riveted to what was hidden behind that button-fly. “No, I mean, yes. I am a go-getter in certain circles but I’m not…well, like a loose woman…I mean, I can’t sleep with you — you’re a perfect stranger. I don’t even know your full name!”
“Bronx Eugene Harris. What else do you need to know?”
She stared, her brain stalling to the point that she nearly gave in but her pride — or maybe it wasn’t pride but that tiny sliver of sense that screamed she absolutely couldn’t sleep with a total stranger without losing whatever shred of morality she had left that had her asking, almost desperately, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue.” He kicked his jeans off, revealing a bulge in his underwear that left no question as to what was going on behind those cotton Fruit of the Looms and her mind went blissfully blank. “Anything else?”
“Um, yes, well, uh, um—“
“You’re so cute when you stutter,” he said in a low, teasing tone as he began unbuttoning her blouse. “While you’re thinking of the next question, why don’t I help you with these buttons.”
“Okay,” she whispered, her throat strangled by excitement and fear. Was this actually happening? Or was she suffering some terrible illness that was eating her brain and she was just hallucinating because honestly, this sort of thing didn’t happen to girls like her, right? Logic told her that she was dreaming but Bronx’s fingers felt pretty damn real on her buttons and she could smell the spicy scent of his skin, practically feel the heat from his body.