Bad Boys of Romance(9)

Yep. That’s right; I’m your typical twenty-five year old virgin. I snort to myself. Nothing typical about my situation.

It’s not that I’m saving myself for marriage or anything remotely self-righteous like that. It just hasn’t been something that has interested me…up until Switch entered my life and all I can think about is his hands all over my body.

And that mouth.

God! That mouth.

Growing up I was focused on my schoolwork. Then, when we were eighteen, my best friend Lacey’s parents were involved in a murder-suicide and so I spent my time worrying about her, as a best friend should.

These days, I spend my weekends visiting my Gran and my weekdays busting my ass to do my best at my job. I’m somewhat of a perfectionist, though I don’t believe I let it dominate my life. I just like to excel at the things I put my mind to, and when I do something, I give it one hundred percent. A lot of the time, that means that some things get pushed wayside, and usually that thing is my social life.

Since Lacey left, I haven’t really made an effort to get out and make new friends, and growing up, Lacey was the only friend my parents really approved of. I’m not sure why, really, because she came from an abusive home. Granted, my parents didn’t know that – no one did – but for some unknown reason, they took a liking to Lacey and never denied a request for us to hang out together.

Walking through the door to my little home, I toss my handbag on the counter and grab a mug from the overhead cupboard. The soothing smell of jasmine and vanilla fills my senses and I take a deep, calming breath. This is my home. I love it here. My house is more of a cottage; small and quaint. But, it does me just fine.

I pour a coffee and bring the steaming cup to my lips, sighing in contentment. I have a stack of work to go over before the fundraiser Saturday night, but my body is wound so tight, I feel like I just need to chill for a bit.

I finish my coffee, run myself a bath and try in vain to not let my thoughts run to a married man who I have no business thinking about.

***

I hear the engine of his bike pulling into my drive first. It cuts out and a minute later there’s a knock on my door.

I open it and there he stands. A takeout bag in one hand, a six-pack of beer in the other.

I silently gesture for him to come in and he walks past me, setting the food out on the counter and popping a beer before handing it to me.

“Hope you like Chinese,” he says.

“I do,” I confirm.

He hands me a plate of food before dishing one out for himself.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he mutters.

I’m glad. I want to say the words out loud, but I don’t. I don’t think I need to; he can see it in my eyes.

“How’re things going?” I finally muster up the courage to ask.

He finishes his mouthful before answering. “Difficult. Amber’s been sloshed every time I’ve been home. I want her to be sober when we have the conversation but I’m starting to lose patience and I’m thinking about just handing it to her no matter the state of mind she’s in.”

“Wow. I’m sorry.” Lame, I know. But, honestly, I don’t know what else there is for me to say.

“Told you before, babe, don’t apologize,” he reminds me.

“You want to watch a movie?” I ask when we’ve finished the food and two beers each.

He nods and I stand to find a DVD from my cabinet. I bend over and smile at his resulting groan.

“Damn, woman, your ass should be illegal.”

I can’t help the laughter that falls from my lips.

I hit play, flick the light off and curl up on the couch beside him. His arm drapes across my shoulders and he arranges me so I’m lying beside him.

“Is this appropriate?” I whisper, praying he says no, and not just because I’m comfortable, but because I like being in this spot. It’s warm, it’s comforting and I can feel his steady heart beating under my cheek.

“Relax and watch the movie, baby.”

I do as I’m told, all the while trying hard not to concentrate on the trail of warmth that his fingers are leaving as they trace up and down my spine, soothingly.

***

I’m rustled from sleep sometime during the night. My eyes crack open slightly but I shut them again.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” I hear him whisper as he pulls the covers over my body.

I think I feel him kiss my temple before he leaves.

The next morning, I know he kissed me, because the spot is still tingling and my fingers absently rub the spot randomly throughout the day.

After we’d watched the first movie, we spent time getting to know each other more. He told me about the club and how his dad had helped bring it back to a club they were all proud to be part of. I shared about my parents, my gran and Lacey. He shared more about the club and about his role as President.