Gavin dismounts from his bike first and then offers his uninjured hand to me. He practically has to pull me off the bike, as I struggle to find the ground under my feet. Somehow, the ride has made my state so much worse, and I find myself getting more and more tired and worn down. All I can think about is falling back into my cotton candy pink bed and waking up to big glass of water and some aspirin.
But instead, I’m walking down a long corridor with a man I just met. His hand is grasped firmly around my waist, and he’s practically pulling me towards a door I’ve never entered. This is when my red light for danger should be flashing, but I can’t make myself call out. This all seems somewhat right and okay with me.
Gavin’s apartment is warm and bright. It’s not exactly what I would expect from a Bloody Pagan. A large bed and a dresser are in the middle of the room. A two-person table is off in the kitchen area, and a couch is the only other seating area, but it’s on the far end of the room. I pick the bed, my hands reaching for it until I fall back with a thud.
He lingers above me for a long while not saying anything. I can tell he’s unsure what to do. Instead, he reaches down and grabs at my ankles. The shock of him touching me sends me flying upwards. But to my shock, he doesn’t linger. Instead, he slowly takes off my shoes and looks up at me sheepishly. “Sorry. I hate shoes on my bed.”
“Oh. Wow. Okay.” I lie back down slowly, trying to figure this guy out. Here’s a man who could overpower me in a second. I’m in no state to fight back. But instead he’s concerned about shoes on his bed? Whom the hell did I trust myself with? The question slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “Gavin, why are you doing this?”
I feel him lie gently on the bed next to me, his body pushing down on the thin mattress. I roll myself over to face him, finally seeing the man who basically rescued me. Two freckles dot his long nose, and the crinkle in his forehead pushes further into itself as he smiles awkwardly. “I, well, don’t know. I guess it’s because you bandaged me up.”
He holds his bandana-covered hand out for me to see. I pull myself up to examine it closer. Slowly unwrapping it, I check the wound. The hot pink thread probably wasn’t my best choice, but it isn’t bleeding, and it’s only slightly red. I can’t help but be proud of my work. The other vet techs have nothing on me when it comes to stitching.
I know I’ve been staring at the hand too long. I can feel the silence growing, as we both become speechless. I look back down at him to see those ocean eyes peering at me. His teeth bite down slightly on the pink, crackled lips. I take a deep breath before lowering my head towards his, and to my surprise, he finds my mouth before I can find his. Our lips touch and part, pressing into one another.
His battered hand reaches around my neck and through my hair, and I move myself closer to him so that my own hand rests on his chest and our hips touch. The heat between our bodies builds, as our kisses speed up. I need to come up for air, but I can’t make myself let go of him. Every movement of his mouth is just deeper, more urgent.
I feel his arm twist me back down to the bed, and one of his enormous legs wraps around my hips and over my body. I hold on tighter, strengthening my grip around his neck, as I try to hold on tight. My whole world is turning and moving, and I am losing all of my control.
He pulls away from me slightly, as I hear him call my name. But I’m already far away…in the darkness of my own, blank mind.
CHAPTER 5
“Hey, Vanessa,” I whisper into her ear as sweetly as I can, as I brush the strands that have stuck themselves to the side of her face away. “Vanessa, it’s time to wake up. We have to get going.”
I watch as she turns quickly away from me, her arms grabbing a heap of the blanket and pillows in their way. She curls up, her bare legs pulled into her chest and her arms wrapped around whatever she can grab. Her pink lips, still covered in yesterday’s faded lipstick, curl and part as she inhales the morning air. Seconds later, her brown eyes open slowly, each blinking as they adjust to the light of the morning sun.
I give her a moment to adjust. More than likely, she is going to be slow to remember how she ended up in a complete stranger’s bed. And that hangover she’s sure to have isn’t going to help matters.
Just as I predicted, as soon as she gets her first look around the room, she goes into a sort of shock. In an instant, she pulls herself up to sitting, with the blankets wrapped around her chest for a barrier. And when she spots me, the giant towering over her in my boxer briefs, she startles worse than before. So much so that she nearly falls off the side of my queen-sized bed, but I manage to catch her flailing arm just in time.
“What…what…?” I watch, as she pieces everything together in her mind before the drinks catch up to her. She places a hand to her forehead as she moans tiredly. I turn back towards the dresser and hand her a few white tablets of aspirin and a glass of seltzer.
“Here,” I say, as I gently push the glass and the pills her way. “You’re probably going to need this.” She squints in pain, as she tries to make it out. Both of them look suspicious to her, and she refuses silently.
“Come on,” I urge. “It’s not poison or some roofies. If I wanted to take advantage of you, I would have done so last night.”
“So,” she asks, clearing her throat, “we didn’t do anything last night?”
“No. Nothing besides you laying on me at one point. That’s about as PG as it gets in this bed.” I pat the hunter green comforter next to her, as I briefly think back to all the adventures this room has seen. And there have been plenty of them—Vanessa Barber excluded.
“But the last thing I remember was…”
“... us about to fuck. Yeah. I’m sure we were just seconds away, but I don’t mess with drunk girls or those who pass out on me. I’m just not into that nearly dead thing.”
She scratches and shakes her head, as she looks at me in complete disbelief. She knows better. Stories of sex in the Bloody Pagans are always good gossip, and as the daughter of the president, she’s probably had to hear it all, including my story. There’s no doubt that when she sees me, she sees a guy who is rabid and horny twenty-four seven. While that description is slightly true, unlike the rest of the club, I’ve got a better head on my shoulder when it comes to this stuff.
“I need you to tell me the truth…” She stumbles as she tries her best to remember my name.
“Gavin.”
“Gavin.” She grits her teeth as she adds, “If you did something to me, if you touched me or took pictures of me, you know my daddy will hunt you down and kill you right in this very room.”
Woah. She may be a mess, but she’s a serious one. After seeing how her brother was, I’m surprised she’s even bringing her family into this equation. Still, I don’t like the implication she’s getting at here. I stand up and walk towards the kitchen, not caring if I bang some of the metal pots around. She can suffer.
I shout back from across the room, “Listen, lady! I’ve been called a whole bunch of things, but no one has ever called me a rapist. I don’t do that shit!” I round the bend of the room, heading straight towards the bed. I’m inches away from her face as I cry out, “You’ve got to be kidding me with this. If I say I fucking didn’t touch you, I didn’t touch you!”
She whimpers, as she cowers towards the bed. She has no idea the nerve she’s managed to hit. Rape and my family seem to go hand in hand. That’s how I was conceived. I’m the bastard child of a Bloody Pagan member, but my mother never knew whom. She too was drunk or drugged—just like Vanessa—and someone much stupider than me took advantage of her. And, in the end, he got away with it while she and I suffered every day of our lives as outcasts and untouchables.
I head back towards the living space and grab a pair of dirty jeans off of the couch along with a plain white t-shirt. She stares at me with those big, almond-shaped eyes, as she tries her best to figure me out. I just focus on tying the thick thread of my boot shoelaces so I don’t have to meet her face to face.
Finally, she breaks through the silence and asks, “Why are you acting like this? Is it because you’re lying to me?” She’s in a complete tailspin, as she brings her knee up to her chest with her head resting in the crux. I hear her mumble and murmur to herself in complete terror and disbelief, “God Vanessa! This is how you lose it…to some guy at one of your dad’s parties? How stupid are you…?”
As soon as I hear the words “lose it,” I run straight back to the bed. I gently pull her hair into a ponytail behind her and pull down so that her head shoots up. She wipes away a tear, as she looks back up at me completely despondent.
I know I have to change my tone with her. She’s used to kid gloves—that or she’s been tortured and yelled at for so long that she can’t get out of her head when someone else does it. I place my hand on her chin, my thumb catching one of her tears as it falls. I find myself saying as softly as possible, “Hey, Vanessa. Nothing happened. I promise you that. You didn’t lose anything to me. Everything’s still intact.”
A virgin. I should have known. No one at that party last night who’s a regular came in with their v-card—except for Vanessa Barber. Hell, even though I was an outsider, I managed to lose mine to a skank at the bar when I turned sixteen. That’s just the way of the club. The longer you have it, the more of a unicorn you become. And no one wants to touch the unicorn. Jonah Barber had apparently done a fine job of keeping his girl untouched and untouchable.
Vanessa doesn’t smile or look reassured at what I say. In fact, something about her face looks even more disappointed than when she thought we had fucked. I try to lighten the mood with, “I could prove that you’re still a virgin, but I doubt you want to do that here and now.”
She sniffles back a small cry as she says, “I’ll take a pass at that.”
“For now,” I quickly reply. She looks up at me with a coy smile, as I over-exaggerate a wink.
Vanessa looks back down at the blanket covering her before asking, “So, if we didn’t do anything, why am I undressed? I don’t remember many things from last night, but I remember you taking off my shoes.”
It’s a good question—one that I am not really jazzed about answering. After she blacked out in my bed, her thick, warm body wrapped around me, I had a moment of self-doubt. Here was this girl, this beautiful, powerful girl, who clearly wanted me. Her body was practically begging for it just seconds ago, and being with her would be an extra little bit of revenge towards the Barber family for screwing me over on the promotion. But she was also dead drunk.
It would have only taken me seconds to rip down her tight little jeans and have my way with her. I could have easily torn at her shirt and nuzzled those perky little breasts of hers without anyone knowing. They were practically calling me all night as I slept beside her, an arm draped protectively around the curve of her waist.
But I resisted. Instead, the moment she passed out, I placed her underneath the covers, making sure her head was on the softest pillow I could find. I then got up and checked my phone for any sign that Jonah Barber was looking for his little girl. Besides a few condolences from my loyal Pagans who knew what had (or rather had not) happened at the party, there was nothing. No missing person call, no texts from the boss, no frantic messages asking me for my location. It looked like I was in the clear.
All I had to do for the rest of the evening was just resist sleeping with her while she was under. A few hours passed, as I dozed a bit on the couch, watching old infomercials I’d seen a billion times. But her tossing and turning in the bed kept waking me. And then when I eventually managed to get some shuteye, a bigger worry of her dying from alcohol poisoning in my own bed managed to keep me up and bring me back to the problem at hand.
As Vanessa slept, I hesitantly removed the blanket from around her and slowly unbuttoned and removed her jeans so she could be more comfortable sleeping. It solved the issue of her tossing and turning, but then I noticed she was sweating. From my experience dealing with men who did a little too much a little too quickly, I knew that wasn’t a good sign. She was going to become dehydrated fast if I didn’t act. And the only solution I could think was pulling off her top and sponging her off with a towel from my kitchen.
Her body cooled quickly under the rag, as the damp cloth left trail marks up and down her hands, her shoulders, her neck, her chest, and the space between her plump thighs. I carefully worked the rest of the night while I tried my best not to wake her. However, my hands moving slowly up and down the line of her body was agony to me. I wanted her more than ever, so I let myself do one simple thing…I lay down next to her.
I admit sleeping next to a half-naked chick wasn’t easy. Just the smell of her sent a raging urge through my body, turning it electric. When she rolled over towards me with her head on my chest and a leg hitched over my hip, I was practically going nuts with wanting. Every small move she made, the inhale of her chest that set her breasts higher into my view, the hand rolling down from my pecs to my hips… it was torture of the worst kind. I had to count the seconds just to get any sleep.
But when she asks why she’s shirtless and pantless, I give her the only reply I can think of on the fly. “You got sick. I didn’t want to leave you there like that. But I washed your outfit while you were sleeping. I’m no expert at laundry, but I do know a thing or two about puking from drinking too much.”
I watch, as Vanessa nods at me, and I can see her trying to make sense of everything that I am saying. Part of her doesn't want to believe me, and I give her credit for that. But the other side of her is letting go of all those walls she’s built up.
With her face transforming, I hand her back the pills and seltzer. Vanessa takes a sip of the drink and pops her dry lips. Her eyes close with a hint of relief as she swallows. She then takes the pills and tosses them into her mouth dramatically.
When she’s through, she pulls the blanket off of her and grabs at the shirt on the floor. The pants are second, but she has a harder time with them. She looks at me shyly, as I turn and face the opposite wall. I can hear her struggled to yank those jeans up over that ass of hers, and I admit to taking a little peek in the mirror next to the bed. Inside, I’m kicking myself for not taking advantage of that body when I had a chance.
After a moment of sitting in silence, both of us unsure what to say or do next, I say what needs to be said, “We have to get going. Your daddy is probably looking for you.”
The very mention of her father sends her back in a tailspin. Her hands twist into one another, as her face turns bright red. I want to ask her what the big deal is, or why her brother treated her like she was some escaped prisoner last night, but I know better. This isn’t my place to get involved, and after last night, I’ve already done enough.
And that’s when she drops the bomb on me: “How about you come to lunch at my family’s house?”
CHAPTER 6
“Woah! Are you nuts, lady! Do you know who your father is?” Gavin runs his hands through that dark, auburn hair, as he looks at me in total disbelief. “I have to ask again, Vanessa. Are you out of your mind?”
I am. I am totally out of my mind. But when you wake up in bed next to someone you just met a few hours ago and you can’t remember anything past him pinning you to the sheets, you get to be a little out of it the next morning. I don’t know whether to trust this guy or to just run to the hills. But every part of my heart is telling me that he didn’t do what I think he did. He’s just not that kind of guy.
So that’s why I ask him to lunch. Part of it is to cover my ass. If we can come up with a story about where I am and how I met Gavin, my father might be lenient. But if I walk in there without a background story in place, both Gavin and I are dead. If I think the beatings my mama gets when she messes with my dad are bad, I am in for one far worse.
I stand up and walk towards the living room where Gavin is sitting, and I get bold. I take his hands in mine and point at the still raw stitches from last night’s incident. “You don’t think
I forgot about this, did ya?” I wait as he rolls his eyes and pulls his hand away lightly. The other one still holds onto me, as if he’s forgotten about it completely. I add slyly, “You owe me, Gavin…”
“Wren.”
“Gavin Wren. You owe me so big. If it weren’t for me, you’d be in some hospital ER still waiting on an intern to practice her sewing skills on you.”
“But instead I get the vet.”
“The vet in training.”
A lightbulb goes off in my head, as I come up with the perfect cover story that may just clear both of us. I walk to my purse and check my phone. It’s blank, meaning that no one is too suspicious of where I am. If they were, the police would be checking in on me, and my phone would be dead from the calls threatening to kill me when I got home. Instead, all I’ve got is a message from Alice about a guy she slept with named Moses. Typical stuff from her. I ignore all of it and reply with a question.
As I type furiously at the keyboard, I turn back towards Gavin who is waiting on me to leave. “Listen, Gavin. You have to come to lunch with me.”
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