The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles

by Meghan Quinn

  I was halfway to the front door when someone cleared their throat behind me.

  Henry?

  There he was, leaning against our couch, wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white polo shirt that clung perfectly to his chest. His hair was handsomely styled to the side and he was wearing a pair of brown sandals as well. God, he looked beyond yummy.

  “Good morning, love.” A lazy smile passed over his lips. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Shocked Henry was here, let alone talking to me, I turned to face him and replied, “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming home until Monday.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and started walking toward me.

  “I was hungry, thought a couple plates of French toast would do the trick.”

  “You’re going to brunch with me?” I was more than a little shocked by the turnaround in emotions from Henry.

  “I am.” He smiled as he stood before me. He grabbed my hand and kissed the top of it. “I’m sorry, Rosie . . .”

  The man was apologizing to me when I was the one being an ass. How could I even think about turning him down the other night? I was so confused. That seemed to be my motto in life . . . I was so confused.

  “No, stop, stop apologizing. I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have been so, so . . .”

  “How about we don’t,” he said. “Let’s drop it and go have a fun day on Long Island, eating French toast and playing Yahtzee.”

  “It’s not a guarantee we’ll play Yahtzee.” I laughed.

  “Love, when it comes to your parents, it’s always a guarantee. I just hope I get the neon-green dice this time. They’re lucky.”

  “I’m sure if you make it known you’re putting the neon ones on reserve for after brunch, you’ll be able to play with them.”

  “I better. Last time I had to play with the red dice, and we didn’t mesh well.”

  “Red is so not your color.”

  “It really isn’t.” He smiled that charming smile at me and then pulled me into his chest and kissed me on the top of my head. “I missed you, love.”

  “I missed you, Henry. Especially after yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah.” He cleared his throat and said in a serious voice, “How’s it hangin’, love?”

  “Ugh, I hate you and Delaney,” I replied while pulling away and walking toward the front door.

  Henry caught up to me and turned me around while laughing. “No, you don’t. You love us.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Tell me, was it really that crooked?”

  I nodded. “You know how a giraffe’s head extends perpendicular from his long neck?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “Picture that, but in dick form.”

  “Oh shit.” He laughed. “Damn, did you take a picture?”

  “No! What is wrong with you?”

  “For science.”

  “You and Delaney hang out too much,” I responded while finally making my way out of the apartment with Henry tailing me.

  I started to head to get a taxi when Henry stopped me and said, “I got a car, love.”

  I turned to see him heading toward a black Ford Escape.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Rented it. Thought it might be nicer to drive than take a taxi and get ripped off. Plus, we can listen to Queen and sing our asses off.”

  My heart took off from how considerate Henry was. He always thought ahead.

  “Henry, that’s so sweet. Thank you but, you meant Britney Spears, right?”

  “We’ll see.” He winked, opened the door for me, and grabbed my hand.

  He helped me in the car and before he shut the door, he looked at me with a spark in his eyes, something I’d never experienced from him before.

  I could tell he wanted to say something, but instead of telling me what was on his mind, he leaned over, placed a kiss on my forehead, and pulled away, shutting my door.

  The rapid beat of my heart from his small gesture caught me off guard as I waited for him to get in the car. It was Henry; he kissed me on the forehead all the time, so it was nothing to look into.

  But then why did I want him to do it again? Why did I want him to not just kiss me on the forehead but on the lips again? Thoughts of the first time he kissed me on the lips ran through my mind. He was gentle, luscious, yet sexy. He’d felt right.

  No, I chastised myself, we are friends.

  “You ready to go, love?” he asked and placed his hand on my thigh, making Virginia come to life from the self-induced coma she put herself in after yesterday afternoon. Apparently she didn’t have any aversions to Henry.

  “Ready,” I gulped as I watched his thumb slowly caress the inside of my thigh, next to my knee.

  By no means was his hand in my crotch—it wasn’t even close—but the fact that he was touching me in an intimate way had me sweating, shaking . . . and internally begging for more. It was going to be a very long car drive.

  “I’m so glad you two could make it,” my mom cooed as she hovered over her French toast.

  The ride from the city to my parents’ house wasn’t too bad except for the fact that Henry’s hand never moved from my leg, leaving me quaking in my seat. Thankfully, his off-pitch singing helped ease the tension.

  I was the DJ, so once I played a couple Queen songs to appease my driver, I skipped through the songs on his playlist and was pleased to see he had every Britney Spears hit on his phone. The minute I started playing her songs, I watched as Henry changed from seventies rock band to nineties pop star, and I couldn’t stop laughing. He hit every note, shimmied, and even popped a shoulder or two to the beat.

  I was pretty sure he never sang and danced to Britney Spears for anyone else, and I was so honored he shared his little hidden secret for me. I felt privileged to have such knowledge, and if I wasn’t so distracted by his hand, I would have been recording his pop-princess ass on my phone.

  “Thanks for having us, Mrs. Bloom. When I heard baked French toast, I couldn’t resist.”

  “You don’t have to suck up to them,” I whispered to Henry.

  “You never know, I might just have to.” He winked, making me wonder what that meant.

  “Don’t you two just look adorable, matching clothes and all? Did you plan it on purpose?” my mom asked while my dad pulled his eyes off his plate for a second to look at us.

  “No, just a coincidence,” Henry replied right before shoving a huge piece of French toast in his mouth, dripping all over his white shirt.

  “Oh dear. Honey, you got some syrup on your shirt.”

  “Oh shoot,” Henry replied, looking down. He grabbed his napkin and started smearing the syrup everywhere.

  “That’s not going to help. I’m sure Dave has a shirt you can borrow. You’re about the same size, well besides the muscles. Have you been working out, Henry?”

  “Um, just a little,” he said modestly. “Do you mind, Mr. Bloom?”

  “Not at all. Rosie, go help him find a shirt. Just don’t give him my Bubba Gump shirt, that’s my favorite.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Dad.” I turned to Henry and said, “Come on, slob.”

  “Don’t forget to soak his shirt,” my mom called out. “I would hate to see it get ruined.”

  Grabbing Henry’s hand, I led him upstairs toward my parents’ bedroom, but Henry stopped me in the hallway and said, “I want to see your room.”

  “You’ve seen it before.”

  “But not in a while. I always love looking at your pictures.”

  “No, you like making fun of me in braces and overalls.”

  “You were adorable, come on.”

  He pulled me toward my childhood room that was too embarrassing to have a guy in. Thank God I was comfortable enough with Henry.

  The room was a mauve color with pale blue bedding, sheets, and curtains. The furniture was an oak color and if it wasn’t for the Furby, Nano Pet, posters of Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and othe
r teenage knickknacks, you would have sworn an eighty-year-old grandma lived there.

  On the bulletin board behind my desk was my wall of achievements, which was a pathetic assortment of made-up certificates. I didn’t have much talent when it came to sports, so my mom made up her own certificates and awarded them to me. I had a certificate of completion for a clean set of braces, for fitting into my first training bra, and successfully using my first tampon. Yup, big-time achievements.

  “I love it in here,” Henry said while taking in everything, as if he had never seen it before.

  “Why?”

  “It just shows me what formed you, why you are the perfect person you are today.”

  “I’m not perfect.”

  “Pretty damn close.” He winked at me. “Ah, the certificate for inserting your first tampon. Such a great accomplishment. I really love how your mom used tampons as a border.”

  “Could we not look at that?”

  “And it’s laminated. She really exceled at making certificates.”

  “Maybe she can make you one for being nosy.”

  “What I love most about you is that instead of throwing away the certificates, you actually hung them up.” He chuckled to himself.

  “Well, that would have been rude. My mom spent time making them, even though they were slightly inappropriate and highly embarrassing.”

  “So adorable.” Walking up to me, he grabbed my hands and said, “Want to make out in your bed?”

  “No,” I practically shouted as a wave of heat washed over me.

  “Come on, it would be fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “We need to get you a shirt before you get us in trouble. Come on.”

  I dragged him out of my room and into my dad’s, where the mauve-themed coloring continued. My poor father. My mom was a mauve and frills kind of gal, where doilies were acceptable and muted colors were welcomed.

  “Do you want a T-shirt or button up?” I asked while I looked through my dad’s closet.

  “Whatever works,” Henry responded.

  Just as I looked at him, he took off his shirt and gripped it in his hand. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt or anything, so I was able to stare at his well-defined chest and abs. He must be working out on his lunch breaks more often because he was looking so fine. How I love snuggling into that chest.

  Did I just think he looked fine? When have I ever thought that about my best friend? Almost never, but now it was in my head, thoughts about kissing and holding hands and whatnot floated through my mind. Now I examined every sexual aspect of him, and damn, if he wasn’t the sexiest guy I’d ever met.

  “Love, you can’t just stare at me like that and get away with it.”

  “I’m sorry.” I shook my head and turned around to find a fitting shirt for Henry but for the life of me, I couldn’t get my arms to function.

  Henry stepped up behind me and placed his hands on my hips, sending my nerves into a frenzy, my stomach into a coiling mess, and a low thrum to pulse between my legs.

  All from his touch.

  My breath hitched as he leaned forward and moved his hands to my stomach, pulling me against his bare chest. The exposed skin on my back met his warm body, sending a thrill of excitement through me.

  I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I shouldn’t be thinking naughty things about my best friend like how I wanted him to press me against a wall and finally take what I wanted to offer.

  “Turn around, love,” he said in a low voice, tempting me.

  My mind and heart weighed against each other, trying to figure what was the best move. My mind was saying, no, don’t do it, you will ruin everything, but my heart was beating at an alarming rate telling me if I didn’t give in, I might lose at one of the most amazing opportunities of my life.

  This time, my heart won out, so I turned in his arms and met his strong gaze.

  His hands ran up my body, spreading goosebumps over my skin until his rough palms cupped my face. We stared into each other’s eyes, both a little nervous, both searching for a sign.

  I stood rigidly, not really knowing what to do, how to blink, how to breathe, how to bridge the gap between us but the moment Henry lowered his head to mine, my body relaxed into his embrace and followed his direction. He hovered, an inch from my mouth, the air stilled around us and I thought I would just about die if he didn’t kiss me right then and there.

  And then, he closed the space between us.

  My lips parted to his and very slowly, his tongue slipped into my mouth at just the right pressure, and I thought I was going to ignite into a pile of flames. He teased my mouth, caressed my mouth, made me weak in the knees. With every movement he made, he turned me further and further into a pile of mush.

  My hands found his waist and slowly started to creep up his chest, taking in every contour and ridge of his body. His breathing became as labored as mine, and it only encouraged me to move my hands up farther until they lightly ran over his pecs.

  Strong.

  Sturdy.

  My thumbs ran a course over his nipples and in a flash, Henry pushed me away. Breathing hard, he blinked a few times and held on to my shoulders, as he looked at me, gasping for air, the same as me.

  We stared at each other for what seemed like forever, wondering what the hell we were doing and what we were supposed to do next. I hoped Henry wasn’t looking for answers from me, because I had no clue how to handle such a situation. All I could think about was how much I wanted him to kiss me again.

  It was undeniable, sparks flew between us, ignited like the Fourth of July, lighting up the sky. There was something different about Henry, something that felt so erotic—so wrong, but oh so damn right.

  “Did you two get lost up there?” my mom called from the stairs.

  Snapping out of the haze, I called back, “Nope, just picking out a shirt now.”

  “Okay, hurry up. Dad and I want to get in a couple of rounds of Yahtzee before you leave.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head as Henry chuckled to himself.

  Trying to avoid the awkward conversation oh hey your lips were just on mine, I turned around and picked out a tie-dyed T-shirt and handed it over to Henry.

  “Here, this should be fine. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  I started to walk away when Henry pulled on my arm and wound me back into him like a yo-yo. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re not walking away from me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he gripped my chin with his thumb and index finger and brought his lips back to mine. In the most sensual way, Henry once again explored my mouth and I kissed him back even though I probably shouldn’t have. There was no refusing his lips. I wasn’t stupid.

  Just as quickly as he kissed me, he pulled away again and put the shirt on that was one size too big and two decades too old, but he still looked good.

  “Let’s go, love,” he said, grabbing my hand and entwining our fingers together. “Time to beat your parents at Yahtzee.”

  Stunned from his drastic change in mood, I whispered while we walked down the stairs so my parents couldn’t hear.

  “So, you’re just going to kiss me and then act like nothing happened?”

  Before we were in plain sight for my parents to see, Henry turned and pinned me against the hallway wall.

  His impressive body pressed up against mine while his hands found my waist again. “There is no way I can act like nothing happened. Right now, I’m on fucking cloud nine from that kiss, and instead of hashing it out like you probably want, I’m going to enjoy it and play some Yahtzee. Sometimes you have to let things happen, Rosie, and not overanalyze everything. Live a little.”

  “I’m living,” I said defiantly.

  “That you are, but live a little with me, Rosie.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Are you two coming?” my dad called out this time.

  “Yup,” Henry said as he pulled me behind him.

&
nbsp; They were on their deck where they had Yahtzee set up and a special set of dice for each person.

  “Look, honey, we found cat dice for you,” my mom said excitingly.

  No matter how many times I told my mom I didn’t like cats, she still insisted upon getting me cat mugs, T-shirts, and calendars. She had it in her mind since I worked at a cat magazine, I was in love with cats, when in fact it was the opposite. If I worked at a golf magazine, she would probably be stuffing golf balls in my stocking every year.

  “Wow, thanks, Mom,” I said, sitting down. Henry sat right next to me, scooting his chair over so he was practically on top of my playing space. He wasn’t letting up, and hell if I secretly didn’t want him to.

  “That shirt is very becoming of you,” my mom said to Henry.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bloom. I’m sure Mr. Bloom does it more justice than I do.”

  “I would say that’s true,” my dad said, chuckling.

  “Oh Dave, don’t be jealous of the boy.” She clapped her hands together and said, “Ready for the roll-off? First to roll a six gets to go first. And, go!”

  We all grabbed one die and started rolling until one of us got a six.

  “Aha,” my dad called out, fist-pumping the air. “Looks like the old man has the upper hand.”

  It actually didn’t matter who went first, but my mom insisted on a roll-off at the beginning of each game. I wasn’t as into it as much as my parents were, but looking at Henry lightly smacking the table, I could see he was disappointed he didn’t win the roll-off. He was too damn cute.

  “Next time,” I whispered to him, causing his hand to once again find my thigh.

  It was as if his hand to my thigh injected some kind of stupid serum, because my mind went blank and everything around me went fuzzy. He had that effect on me.

  “Honey, you’re up,” my mom said just as Henry squeezed my thigh and leaned over closer to my ear.

  “You’re up, love. Don’t let me distract you.”

  Evil bastard, he was going for the win. Well, two could play at that game.