Virgin's Dirty Boss

by Nicole Elliot

  “Sure,” he says, walking in behind me. The room is a bit bigger than my old one and the bright yellow paint covering the walls is cheerful.

  “I didn't think you would want to go back to your old place.”

  “No. I didn't, but I have no idea how I can repay you for all this,” I whisper.

  “Like I said before, don't worry about it.”

  I smile, looking up into his green eyes, and kiss his cheek.

  “Thank you,” I say, and he backs away from me. “Will you call Aunt Suz and ask if she can bring Ella to me?”

  “I will call and see if she can bring Ella to visit. You still have a long way to go before you need to have all that responsibility. But I did start her room.” He leads me down a hallway past the kitchen into a room with paint cans and a dresser. “It’s not much yet, but when you’re healed up, she’ll be here with you in her own room, I promise.”

  My heart aches. He made her a room. Ella. Our daughter has her own room in his house. I need to tell him but just as I’m about to, he interrupts my thoughts. “Oh, here's my number.” He hands me a small piece of paper.

  “I've got to run a few errands and I'll come back, ok?” I nod, feeling like a gut-wrenching blow has been landed on my heart. “Someone from the club is posted outside, so no one is getting in here, sweetheart, you just rest.”

  “One more thing,” he says, getting his helmet off the table. “A big black truck was sitting outside when I came back from getting your clothes, license plate V76LMP. Does that sound familiar?”

  A surge of fear rushes through me and I begin to sweat. “Cami? Are you ok?” he asks as I begin to slide down the wall. I sit there, a crumbling mess, as tears begin to fall uncontrollably.

  “Is that who did this to you?” he asks me, and all I can do is nod. “Cami, look at me.” He sits next to me. “He won't hurt you again. I’m telling you this now, and I fucking mean it.” He growls. Nodding, I look away, the anger prevalent in his eyes.

  “You have my number if you need me. Do not hesitate to call me. I'll be less than ten minutes away.”

  He leaves and I lock the door, placing a chair under the knob. Turning on the TV, I grab my phone and program his number onto speed dial. It's almost noon when he comes back and I'm still sitting there, staring at the door, when he knocks.

  “It's me, Cami.” Getting up, I move the chair so I can open the door. He holds up a bag of fast food that smells so good.

  “Thought you might be hungry,” he says, smiling.

  “Yes, please come in.” Moving out of the way so he can come in, I glance out the door at the bike sitting out front.

  For the next two weeks, I'm in the cottage, too afraid to venture out. Jett, Wilson, or Aunt Suz is with me always. I haven't gone back to work yet, and I feel so guilty with Jett spending all this time with me. I want… no, I need to get out of this rut and move forward. I feel like I’ve traded one dependency for another and this is not who I want to be. Pulling out my phone, I google apartments for rent near me.

  I'm on the phone talking to the owner of a place I've found when Jett gets here. He looks at me funny and sits my lunch on the table. “I'm looking for an apartment,” I whisper. He nods and sits across from me, looking at me strangely. I finish my call and hang up with a sigh. “I think I found one,” I say as I shove several french fries in my mouth.

  “Do you not like it here?” he asks, sounding hurt.

  “Oh Jett, it’s not that. I just feel like this something I have to do for me, to fully heal. I know that’s unfair to you.” I can be such a jerk, inside my own head all the time. Not thinking about what he would want.

  “Well if you’re sure…”

  “I am. I’m sorry, though, I should have talked this over with you.”

  “That’s not necessary, but I’m not letting you go that easy. So… I was thinking, well, that maybe you'd like me to make you some dinner tonight?”

  “That sounds nice,” I reply, trying to control my enthusiasm.

  “One more thing,” he says, opening the curtains. “Come look.”

  “What am I looking for?” I ask.

  “I got your car out of impound this morning,” he says. It takes every ounce of control I have not to jump into his arms and kiss him. I just look at him, and no words will come. “Ok, I guess this is you happy?” he asks, with an unsure look on his face. I nod and stare out of the window. We finish our lunch with few words and it's time for him to go. “Six o'clock, sharp.” I smile and hug him tightly, breathing in his alluring smell.

  “I'll be there,” I say, already trying to figure out what I'm going to wear. He leaves me with my heart racing and more nervous than I have ever been.

  It's a few minutes until six and I find myself sitting in the bedroom waiting like a high school girl ready for her first date. There’s a knock at my door and before I can respond it swings open. Jett is standing there in jeans and a tight t-shirt. I avert my eyes away quickly, trying not to stare. His dark hair is messily styled and his soft hazel eyes are bright in contrast to the dark hue of his lashes. “Hi,” he says, stepping to the side so I can walk past him.

  I breathe in deeply and ask, “So, what's for dinner? That is what you invited me to the dining room for, right?”

  His eyes grow wide at my matter of fact tone and he breaks into a fit of laughter. “Are you always so blunt and serious?”

  “Pretty much. I've learned to just say what needs to be said and be done with it.”

  He just shakes his head and motions me to follow him. Upon entering the kitchen, the aroma makes my mouth water.

  “Thai?” I ask with a smile.

  “Of course, it’s still your favorite, right?” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a hint of red coloring his cheeks.

  I stifle my laughter. “Yeah, but how did you remember?” I reply, genuinely impressed. He pulls out my chair, so I sit and open the container in front of me. I close my eyes and breathe in the aroma.

  “I remember everything about our time together,” he says, and I blush.

  “This looks delicious, did you order from…” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “Tam,” he says before I finish my sentence.

  “My favorite,” I reply.

  “I know,” he says with a wink.

  After dinner, he cleans up as I finish my tea and head to the restroom to freshen up. The thin pink scar running down my jawline is a constant reminder of what men are capable of. Instantly, I find myself building my walls back up. Trying to stop it is useless, as it's fed by fear.

  He looks at me strangely as I walk out of the bathroom. “Are you ok?” he asks, cautiously reaching for me. My first instinct is to step back, but I hold my breath and let him take my hand, guiding me to the living room.

  “I was concerned, that's why I was outside the bathroom door,” he says, turning to face me. I smile and continue into the living room. He sits on the couch and I gingerly sit on the opposite end.

  “So tell me something about yourself I don't know,” he says, observing my reaction.

  “Well,” I reply, thinking for a moment. “l have an unhealthy addiction to peanut butter.” The look on his face is priceless as he processes the ridiculous confession. Suddenly, he starts laughing and scoots towards me, throwing his arm around me.

  “You need help,” he whispers into my ear, his lips lightly feathering across my cheek. Feeling the warmth spreading throughout my body makes me slightly dizzy.

  “Want to watch a movie?” he asks, standing up. Watching him walk over to the entertainment center, I can't help but look at his ass. He turns around, seemingly able to feel my eyes on him.

  “Come on, help me pick one out.” I hesitantly get up and join him, my eyes growing wide at the vast selection in front of me.

  Taking a closer look, I bite my top lip to keep from laughing like a lunatic. “Seriously? You own this?” I ask, pulling the movie from the cabinet.

  “I know… I know what y
ou're going to say,” he stutters. “But it is not mine.”

  As I examine the case, I notice it's a Blu-ray, and a huge smile crosses my lips at the sheer thought of him watching sparkly vampires. “Sure…” I say, popping open the case and placing the disc in the Blu-ray player.

  Jett groans playfully as I hit play. “You want some popcorn?” he asks.

  “Absolutely. What's movie night without popcorn?” I reply, sitting back down.

  A couple of minutes into the movie, he comes in, taking a seat next to me, popcorn in hand. As I start to reach for a handful, he stops me. “Nope, we have to establish rules first.”

  “Rules?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  “Yes, rules,” he says, the serious look on his face making me giggle.

  “Ok, what are these rules?”

  He grabs the remote, pausing the movie. “The first rule is no swooning. I know you might think these sparkly bastards are cute, hot, or whatever they are, but do not express this at any time I'm in the same room.”

  “Why…” I begin to ask and he cuts me off.

  “Shhh…” he says, bringing his finger to his lips. “Rule number two…” he continues. “Do not, and I repeat, do not give running commentary. It's a movie, not a sporting event.” Trying to keep my giggles at bay is becoming increasingly difficult with each rule.

  “Finally, rule number three. This one is of the utmost importance. If at any point you fall asleep, you must not drool on me.” I sit there staring at him, as I have no words, only laughter.

  “What's so funny?” he asks. All I can do is shake my head.

  “So, do you think you can follow these simple rules?” he asks, keeping the popcorn just out of my reach.

  “Following directions has never been a strong point for me, but I think these are doable,” I reply with a smirk.

  “Good!” he says, handing me the popcorn. He presses play and puts his arm around me. Twenty minutes into the movie, he starts making snoring noises, and I elbow him in his ribs, causing him to jump, sending his soda flying all over him.

  “Well damn,” he says with a laugh. “I guess I deserve this.”

  “I'm so sorry,” I reply, grabbing a tissue to try and dry it off.

  “Oh, don't worry about it. It's just a t-shirt, but I do need to change it,” he says with a smile. He begins to pull off his shirt.

  I sit there holding my breath as he takes off his shirt, and then can't help but gasp. Not only at the sight of him shirtless, but at the size of the tattoo sitting between his shoulder blades all the way down his back.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I never would have pictured you as a tatted up bad boy,” I say, covering the blush now burning my cheeks. He turns his head to look at me and my whole body reacts to the wicked grin on his face. I slowly reach up to touch it and pull my hand back.

  “You can touch it,” he says with a smirk. The contact of my fingers to his skin makes him shiver.

  “Is this a gun?” I ask.

  “Yeah, just modified. It’s the Brothers’ symbol, we all have them,” he says, voice strained.

  I slowly trace the contours, taking in every detail of the artwork in front of me. As I make a second pass over the middle of the tattoo, he shivers again.

  “You keep that up and you just may find out just how much of a bad boy I really can be.” His voice is deep and seductive.

  I feel the heat radiating off my cheeks as he turns to me and pulls me into him. All I can say is “Oh.”

  “My, what a lovely shade of red your face has turned,” he says, looking down at me, trying to stifle laughter. I pull away and cover my face with my hands. “Now why did you do that? It is really cute,” he says with that wicked grin once again crossing his lips. I look up into his soft green eyes and just smile, red cheeked and all. He shakes his head and laughs as he kisses my forehead. “Surely you've seen a man without his shirt before. Hell, you’ve seen me without mine before.”

  Flashes of the last time we were together run through my mind. I have to tell him. What that night caused, what it did to me, to us.

  “Yes,” I reply shyly, laying my head on his chest.

  “Sweetheart, I am far from perfect, and I have many flaws. One of them being the inability to leave you alone.”

  “I don't want you to leave me alone.” I counter, far too quickly. He smiles and holds me tightly. I could die right now, in this very moment, and be perfectly content with it.

  He holds me to him, my heart hammering out of my chest. In a rush to break the heat building within me I abruptly ask, “So what exactly do you do for a living?” He smiles, realizing what I'm doing, and releases his grip on me.

  “I work with the club.”

  “No, I mean what do you do to earn a living?”

  “Please tell me you’re just pulling my chain, otherwise my pride may be seriously wounded if you haven’t heard of Jett Stewart.”

  I can't help but laugh. “So what? You’re just you for a living? Somehow I doubt that.”

  “I can’t tell you what we do. It’s against the rules.”

  I should have known that, but it doesn’t stop me from trying. I think about Ella for a moment—do I want her getting wrapped up in this, in his life?

  “It’s not all bad, you know.”

  He takes my hand and pulls me to him. Leaning down, he gently kisses my forehead.

  “I guess it’s not,” I say, half focused on what he’s saying, mostly focused on his lack of shirt. “So the movie,” I offer, hoping he won’t be offended. But until I tell him the truth about Ella, I can’t become more involved.

  He takes the hint a little too quickly. “Ok, let me get another shirt on and we can get back to the movie.”

  I sit down and grab the popcorn, hitting play. Jett comes back in a tank top and I can't even concentrate on the movie. Keeping my face forward, I find my eyes constantly looking over at him. I see him smile out of the corner of my eye and I know I've been caught. “Screw it,” I say, facing him.

  “What?” he asks.

  “You're just too damn hot in that shirt that I can't even keep my eyes on the movie.”

  His eyes grow wide and he fights the smile on his lips. “And the truth finally comes out. I knew I was more than just cute,” he says with a smirk.

  Smacking his arm, I can't help but grin like an idiot. Jett puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me as close to him as he can. Lifting my head up, I softly kiss his neck and he sighs.

  “Are you trying to make me crazy, because if so, you are succeeding.” Pulling me onto his lap, he brings his forehead to mine, his lips only centimeters from mine. My heart hammers in my chest and my cheeks begin to blush. “What is it about you?” he whispers.

  I smile because I feel the same way. In the past few weeks, I've grown to feel something a bit more than like towards him. It could be love, but I don't feel like I'm ready to admit that. “I know what you mean. Jett, I really like you and you’ve been nothing short of a miracle to me, but I'm damaged. I don't know what to feel or how to say what's on my mind.”

  Placing his hand behind my neck, he leans. When his lips touch mine, I melt. Everything in the world disappears and he is all I can see. “I happened to do damaged very well.” I pull back, breathless, unable to speak or move, any sense of direction or purpose gone.

  In a daze I kiss him again, running my fingers through his hair. One lighter kiss and I pull away, looking at him and smiling. “I think I should go to sleep in my room,” I say, trying to stand up.

  “Please don't. I'll behave myself. I promise,” he says. “I'll even go put on another shirt.”

  Standing there looking up at him, I try not to laugh. “Only if you behave,” I say.

  “Of course.” He gets up to go get another shirt.

  After a few minutes Jett comes back out with an Tennessee Hawks sweatshirt on. “Nice,” I say, patting the couch beside me.

  “Can we please watch something else?” he asks.
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  Raising my eyebrows, I ask, “What do you have in mind?” He smiles, gets up, and goes over to the movie cabinet. He pulls out a movie, careful to hide the title from me, and puts it in.

  “What movie is this?” I ask when he hits play.

  “It's just a movie,” he replies with a smirk. I roll my eyes and lean my head against the couch. The movie begins and in an instant, I recognize the music. He’s put on some chick flick. The guy with the hot tattoos in a MC watches chick flicks, what the hell?

  “Nerd,” I say, grabbing the popcorn.

  “What can I say? That chick’s pretty hot.”

  “Ok, same rules apply to you. I don't want my ass compared to hers. Got it?”

  He laughs and grabs my hand. “Ok, no reference to her great ass, got it.” I smack his arm and rest my head on his shoulder. “You know, Cami, she really doesn't have anything on you.”

  At three in the morning, I wake up to find myself lying on his chest, the blue screen of the TV casting a faint light across his face as he sleeps. I slowly wiggle myself out of his grasp and go to the bathroom. My reflection is frightening, so I wash my face and run my fingers through my hair to try and fix the tangled mess. Creeping back into the living room, I notice he is no longer on the couch.

  “I'm in here,” he says. I enter his room, and he tosses me a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. “I figured this would be a bit more comfortable for you,” he says with a yawn. Looking at the clothes he's given me, I just laugh. They’re old work out clothes, probably two sizes too big. “I grabbed them out of your top drawer.”

  I nod and go into my room to change, folding my clothes and putting them on the hamper. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I sigh, best I can do, before walking back out.

  “Aren't you just cute,” he says with a smile.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, crawling onto his bed. Jett turns out the light and crawls in beside me. I lay there staring up at the ceiling, unsure of how I feel about this.

  “Is everything ok?” he asks, moving closer.

  “Yeah, I’m just thinking about Tommy.”