The Virgin's Guide to Misbehaving

by Jessica Clare

  “Not bad,” he said softly, and leaned in to kiss her mouth lightly again. “But next time, hopefully you won’t be so tense.” And he grinned at her.

  Tense? She felt like his hands on her neck were the only thing holding her up. Her knees felt like jello. How on earth was she tense? But she agreed. “Okay.”

  He chuckled. “So you want to meet tomorrow still?”

  “God, yes,” she blurted, and then wanted to hide her face in embarrassment.

  But Rome only grinned. “Tomorrow, then. At the salon.”

  She nodded. “Tomorrow.”

  He let her go, and she turned to the door. Her first step was wobbly, but she managed to grasp the doorknob and turn it. She glanced back to look at him, but he was already heading toward his bathroom, stripping his shirt off, and so Elise shut the door and walked calmly out to her car, swallowing hard.

  She got into her car and stared at her dashboard for a long, long time.

  Holy shit.

  That kiss had been . . . amazing. If that was what she was in store for, dear god . . . She was terrified and beyond excited, all at once. She shifted in her seat and felt the flesh between her legs throb.

  She was incredibly wet, just from that small touch. Elise moaned to herself, pressing a hand between her legs. Sure enough, the crotch of her jeans was damp. Just kissing Rome had made her that turned on?

  God.

  Tomorrow seemed so far away.

  • • •

  The next day, Elise was pretty sure she was going to have a nervous breakdown. Her palms were damp, and she changed her shirt twice because she kept anxiously sweating throughout the day. Emily gave her strange looks when she showered twice in the same afternoon, but she was too polite to ask about that sort of thing.

  Elise spent all day prepping. She wasn’t exactly sure how she should prepare for sex. Shaving legs and such seemed like a given, and she lotioned up her limbs, then painted her nails and toenails. She could have gone somewhere to get a pedicure, but Beth Ann’s salon was closed while she was on her honeymoon, and it felt like a betrayal to go anywhere else. She curled the ends of her long hair, put on light makeup, and dug through her lingerie drawer for her prettiest underwear and bra. Sadly, having sex wasn’t something she normally considered, and her “prettiest” bra was plain white. Her panties were pretty unexciting, too; a pair of cotton briefs with a cute heart pattern was about the best she could do. She hated the sight of it and wondered if there was enough time to head out to the city and go shopping for something like that. The closest mall was at least forty-five minutes away, and she pushed the thought out of her head. She’d dress sexy for the next time.

  Then she swallowed a hysterical giggle at the thought of “next time” and hoped that Rome wasn’t so disappointed that there wouldn’t be a next time. She critically studied her body in the full-length mirror in her room. One shoulder was slightly higher than the other, and the same with her hips. She twisted around, looking at her back. One shoulder blade was more prominent than the other, and a long, thin scar stretched from her neck to her tailbone, along with a matching six-inch one on her hip, remnants of back surgery to correct her scoliosis. It had been done when she was a teenager, and it wasn’t completely aligned; the doctors couldn’t perfect her back, only correct the worst of the curve. As a result, she looked like a doll that had been built slightly “off.” Self-consciously, she turned and tried to stand in a way that would make her hips look straight. Then she sighed, uneasy. She’d ask Rome to have sex with the lights off. It’d be a little disappointing because she wanted to look at all of him, but with the lights on it would mean that he’d look at all of her, too, and she didn’t want that. Maybe they could have sex with her clothes on.

  Elise would suggest that.

  She dug through her closet for her favorite pair of skinny jeans and slid them on, and considered her shoes. God, why didn’t she have something sexy or cute? All she had were sneakers. It wasn’t like this was a date, though, so she wasn’t sure why she was freaking out so much. But it felt important that he thought she was pretty today. She considered . . . and then dug out the box of retro wear that they’d put together for the photo shoots. No one would see it but Rome, so she could borrow from it, right? She’d bought the stuff, after all.

  There was a pair of shoes in her size that were cherry red platform heels with a peep toe. Okay, so she hadn’t been looking for something quite that bold, but nothing else seemed right. After a moment’s hesitation, she slipped them on. They were tall—really tall—but they made her legs look great. Okay, they’d stay. Now she needed some clothing to match them. She dug through the box for a bit longer and eventually came up with a red tank top and a tiny black sweater-shrug that fastened just over her breasts. It definitely wasn’t her normal wear but she needed the extra bravado today, and a college sweatshirt wasn’t going to do it.

  Finally prepared for her date, Elise stared into the mirror at her reflection. Not bad. Not bad, really. She let her hair swing over her cheek and put one hand on her hip so it would seem like the tilt was deliberate. If she could just stand like that, she’d be almost pretty.

  Then she sighed at her reflection. If she stood like that the entire time, he’d think she was mental.

  She grabbed her purse and keys and headed down the stairs. She could hear Emily talking on the phone in the kitchen, and the clatter of pots and pans. Perfect time to creep out. Of course, she didn’t know why she was sneaking out; Emily wasn’t her mother. But she was heading for a rendezvous with a man for sex. That didn’t feel like something you boldly strolled out the front door for.

  Elise climbed into the rental car and immediately headed to the next town. She needed to bring condoms, and there was no way she was going to buy those in tiny Bluebonnet, where someone was sure to ask questions. Oh, the fun of a small town. At the pharmacy, she grabbed a box of the first condoms she saw, then raided a few other aisles so it wouldn’t look like she was trucking for dick and only dick. She grabbed tampons, blush, nail polish, and socks, and then headed to the counter, her face burning as she paid for everything.

  Then, she could delay no longer, so she drove back to Bluebonnet.

  Beth Ann’s small salon was a tiny cube of windows along the charming Main Street shops of Bluebonnet. Down the street was the city hall and library, and a few windows away, she knew Miranda’s mother ran an antiques shop. She cruised past the row of empty parking spaces in front of the salon, and then drove around to the back of the strip so she could park—okay, hide—her car.

  Luckily for her, Beth Ann’s salon had a back door, and she snuck in through there, unlocking the door and practically running inside in her haste not to be seen. She turned on the lights, and they flickered for a moment, then came on. Elise stepped into the small salon and surveyed her surroundings.

  Everything was still set up for the photo shoots. They’d had their first pinup shoot last weekend, just before Beth Ann had left for Alaska, and nothing had been moved since. Beige sheets of fabric covered the mini blinds over the windows to create a basic background, and more of the fabric was draped on the floor. A white stool sat amidst the fabric, the only seat in the room, the barber chair still in the front waiting room next to a row of seats. Heck, even her tripod was still in place. All she needed to do was set her camera on there and go to work. It was thoughtful of Beth Ann to leave everything in place in case she needed to utilize the studio.

  She crossed her arms and studied the setup, eyeing her tripod. Too bad she couldn’t get the right pictures of Rome. He’d make such a great subject. She thought of all those tanned muscles covered in tattoos, that delicious ring in his lip, and shivered. She wished she could shoot him again, at the moment when his eyes got all sleepy and long lashed because he was aroused.

  But . . . she was assuming she could arouse him, right? Here she was, dressed in borrowed heels and a top that wasn’t even hers because her own clothes were too frumpy. And it was just lipstick on
a pig, because the moment those cute trappings came off, she’d just be a freak with crooked hips and scars and granny panties. She pictured Rome’s beautiful eyes widening at the sight of her, and his disappointment when he saw what she really looked like.

  She covered her face in her hands and groaned.

  What the hell was she doing? Rome Lozada was gorgeous. Utter perfection. She was one step away from being the Hunchback of Notre Dame. There was no way he’d be interested in someone like her if she hadn’t come on so strong.

  Hey, wanna have sex? Yes? Sure, let’s meet and hook up.

  What guy in his right mind would say no? And then he’d go back to his buddies and tell them all about how he’d nailed the local dog.

  She flinched at the thought, her arms tightening, and she stumbled back to the light. She was crazy for doing this. She couldn’t go through with it. No way was she setting herself up for another ego bruising like that. This was a mistake and she had to leave before he got here. She’d just text him later tonight and tell him she’d changed her mind, and just avoid him until she left town. No harm, no foul.

  Elise grabbed her keys and opened the back door of the salon to leave . . .

  . . . just as a motorcycle pulled up next to her car, the helmeted driver raising a hand to wave at her.

  Flustered, Elise froze on the doorstep. What did she do now? She’d have to tell him to his face that she was having second thoughts. That was so much harder than a text. Oh damn.

  Rome swung a leg over the motorcycle and pulled his helmet off. He grinned at her. “I’m not too late, am I?”

  She stared at him. Her mouth worked, but no words came out. God, she must look so stupid, all dressed up so he could fuck her. And he was being so nice and friendly about it, too. That would change as soon as she told him she didn’t want to do this, that she was chickening out—

  “You okay?” He approached her, a frown on his face. “You look a little on edge.”

  “I, um . . .” She swallowed hard.

  “You’re having second thoughts,” he guessed.

  She dropped her gaze, unable to look him in the eye.

  “You want to go get a drink instead?”

  Elise lifted her head, a hint of a frown on her face. “What?”

  He shrugged, those blue eyes capturing her and making it impossible to look away. “You’re all pretty tonight and I’m here, and you’re freaking out. You want to get a drink? Take things slow?” A hint of a smile tugged at his face. “That’s how most relationships go, you know. Couple of dates, couple of kisses, one thing leads to another, et cetera.”

  She blinked at him.

  “You not a drinker suddenly? I know you like beer.”

  “No, that’s not it,” she said hastily. “It’s just, um . . . relationships?”

  He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You got a problem with going on a date with me?”

  She shook her head. “Sounds nice,” she said shyly. She just wasn’t sure why he’d want to date someone like her. A quick secret bang was one thing, but a date was . . . well, it felt like more.

  “So you want to go get a drink?” he asked again, and offered her the bike helmet tucked under his arm.

  “I do. Just not Maya Loco,” she said quickly. That was the only place in Bluebonnet to get a drink.

  His mouth twisted. “You worried someone will see you dating the trashy biker?”

  Trashy biker? She blinked in surprise. “Actually, I was worried it’d get back to my brother, and you said you wanted to stay off his radar.”

  He inhaled. “Ah. Right. Okay. I know a place a few towns over. You want to go?”

  She nodded. “Do you have another helmet?”

  “Nah, you can use mine.” He winked. “Not much of a loss if I bite it, but people would be sad if you died.”

  Before she could comment on that grim explanation, he tugged the helmet out of her hands and put it over her head. As he tied the strap under her chin, he murmured, “You look hot tonight, by the way.”

  And she was glad he couldn’t see her blush under the visor.

  • • •

  They drove for a good while down the highway, and just when Elise was going to ask him where they were headed, he exited and took her down a few side streets until they parked in front of a rather rough-looking building with a bunch of bikes in front of it. Neon signs in the windows advertised a million different kinds of beer, and several people were loitering around the corner of the building, dressed in more leather than she’d ever seen.

  Okay, he’d taken her to a biker bar.

  Elise sat, frozen, until he reached backward and patted her thigh as an indication that she should move. She did, swinging a leg over the bike and nearly stumbling, thanks to her ridiculous shoes. Rome caught her arm, grinning, and then he got off the bike, too. He reached for the helmet and unbuckled it under her chin, then pulled it off and set it on the seat. When she didn’t speak, he glanced over at her.

  “You okay?”

  She leaned in, sidling as close to him as she dared, her gaze darting around. “Is this a biker bar?”

  “It might be. That a problem?”

  She bit her lip. “I’ve never been.” Heck, she hadn’t been to a real bar, much less a biker one. She’d always avoided that sort of thing before.

  “You said you wanted to live a little, right?” He grinned at her, all piercings and boyish smile. “Besides, I know the owner. He’s a good guy.” He tugged an arm around her waist and looped his thumb into one of the belt loops of her jeans and nudged her forward.

  She moved with him, her own fingers sliding to his belt loops. For balance, she told herself. That was all.

  The inside of the place looked just like she’d imagined it would from the outside. More neon signs lit the place up, the only decor other than the mirrors behind the counter and a dart board on the wall. There was a jukebox in the corner, and the music coming out of it was classic rock. Such a cliché. The bar was long and the seats nearly full—and almost all men. There were a few tables in the back, and Rome dragged her toward one, for which she was eternally grateful.

  He let go of her and pulled her chair out, grinning as she sat down. As soon as she thumped into the seat, he leaned in, resting his hands against the back of her chair, his mouth moving so close to her ear that her nipples got hard. “What do you normally drink?”

  She swallowed hard. “Light beer?”

  “I think you need something stronger. Okay if I get you something different?” At her nod, he chuckled, and his breath tickled her ear. “One shot of Jäger, coming up.”

  A shot? Oh jeez. Elise wanted something that would go down easy, that she could ease into getting a little tipsy with. Not much, just enough to loosen up. When she had mixed drinks, she normally went for something with an umbrella. Most of the time, there wasn’t much of a point of drinking other than the occasional beer; she usually only drank around family, and getting plastered in front of your parents wasn’t exactly something she planned on doing.

  When Rome left her side to go to the bar and get drinks, she gave his back a panicked look and surveyed her surroundings. The interior was slightly smoky, thanks to the cigarettes that everyone at the bar seemed to be having. Weren’t there no-smoking laws? Everyone she could see was male, wearing leather, and drinking beer. Was she the only girl in here? That made her terribly uncomfortable. She shrank lower in her seat, avoiding eye contact and wishing Rome would return in a hurry.

  He returned a few minutes later with a couple of dark-looking shots. To her dismay, he put both of them in front of her. “Bottoms up.”

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Told you. Jäger.”

  She stared at it. “You not going to drink one?”

  “I’ll get new drinks in a minute. Wanted to make sure you were okay over here. You looked a little scared.” He nudged a shot glass toward her. “That’ll help.”

  Elise nodded and picked it up, slowly raisi
ng it to her pursed lips.

  “Don’t sip it,” he advised. “Trust me. Just chug it.”

  All right, then. She sucked in a breath, then tipped her head back and downed the shot. The peculiar taste of the shot touched her tongue—something between cough syrup and licorice—and then it burned its way down her throat. She coughed, putting down the shot glass and raising a hand to her mouth.

  Rome laughed and slapped her on the back. “You okay?”

  She nodded, her eyes threatening to stream tears. “Strong,” she wheezed, waving a hand in front of her mouth as if that would take away some of the burn.

  “The next one will go down easier. Trust me.”

  Elise swallowed hard. She had to drink another? She shook her head even as he nudged the shot toward her.

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “After that, we’ll go to the easy stuff.”

  “What about you?” she coughed.

  “I don’t need loosening up,” he told her with a grin. “I’m not the one who looks like she’s about to be attacked at any moment.”

  He had a point. She braced herself, grimaced, and chugged the second shot. Nope, he was wrong—it burned just as bad as the first one. Coughing, she covered her mouth and grimaced. This time, tears did stream down her face.

  Rome chuckled. “I’ll get you something to sip, how’s that?” He took the shot glasses away and stood, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading back to the bar.

  She wanted to tell him to stop with the drinks, that she didn’t want to drink any more, that she wasn’t having fun . . . but that kiss on top of her head had silenced her. It had been so easy and affectionate and utterly spontaneous, and it made her wish she hadn’t been such a chicken about the whole thing. So what if he thought her body was ugly? She would get to have great sex with him, right?

  She was so stupid for pushing him away, really.

  Her belly burned with the shots of alcohol, and she felt warm all over. A little more relaxed, too, if she was going to be honest with herself. Just a little looser. She glanced over at the bar, looking for Rome, and noticed he was leaning over it, his butt sticking out as he chatted with the bartender. Man, he sure did have a nice butt. She sighed, thinking of it. Was it bad that she wondered what it’d look like, naked? Would it be small and tight, or would he have nice big muscular buttocks? She tried to picture it in her mind. How pinchable would it be? Elise raised her fingers and squinted, pretending to pinch it from afar.