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Was it wrong to manipulate the situation to my benefit?
Fuck, I knew the answer to that. Too bad I didn’t care.
I wanted her.
Good, bad or indifferent, I wanted her beneath me, taking me into her tight body.
I wanted to watch as her tits bounced and jiggled with each thrust.
I wanted those sweet pouty lips to take my cock and suck me dry.
What could I say, I wasn’t good but then, I’d never pretended to be either.
If she was willing to sell her car for her loser brother, I could make a much better offer.
I guess I’d just have to wait and see if she took the bait.
Ivy
My hands were shaking as I stared at the card.
Det. Jameson Reed.
Supposedly one of the good guys, right?
He was a cop for crying out loud and yet...he'd just...my cheeks flamed with the heat of the sun. He wanted to have sex with me.
He wanted me to trade my dignity for my brother's life.
No.
I couldn't do it.
I wouldn't do it.
Jameson Reed could fuck himself.
I hadn't protected my virginity all this time just to throw it away on someone like a crooked fucking cop.
There'd been plenty of guys who'd wanted the pleasure of taking my virginity but I’d been waiting for The One.
Confession time, I was a terrible romantic and believed in soulmates and true love, you know, real romance novel stuff.
I had to believe in something good after the life me and Frankie had lived. Fate couldn't be that cruel, right?
Tears blinded me as I ripped the card in half and tossed it to the floorboards of my car.
I’d sell my car to make bail and then I’d convince Frankie that it was time to leave this city behind for good and start fresh.
Yeah, that was the better plan.
Except even as I desperately wanted to believe that Frankie would agree, he was notoriously fickle.
He also hated leaving his comfort zone, even if that comfort zone was filled with low-life losers who were determined to keep him at their level.
Damn it, Frankie.
It wasn't fair.
I couldn't bring myself to abandon my brother, even though I wasn't so snowed by Frankie that I couldn't see that he wasn't holding himself to the same standard as of late.
He'd changed a lot in the last six months even.
I blamed the drugs but I couldn't get him to stop.
Which meant, even if I sold my car to bail him out, he'd be in the same position soon enough, begging for help, leaving me with nothing.
But if that were true, then prostituting myself for Frankie’s sake wasn't going to change anything either.
All true...but at least I’d still have my own car.
Maybe if I told Frankie that this was the last time I could help him out, he'd finally change.
And maybe he'd just quietly drown, leaving me completely alone in this world.
Tears blinded me.
Some fucking choice.
Rock — hard place — me.
The biggest question was why did Jameson want me anyway?
Rotten personality and the fact that he was obviously morally bankrupt aside, he was a good-looking guy. Okay, more than good-looking.
He had the rock-hard muscled body of a prison inmate and eyes so dark they swallowed souls.
Jameson Reed had what to it took to melt panties with one smoldering look.
But why me?
Was it punishment?
Did he have a vendetta against Frankie and thought to take it out on me?
Even as the idea held merit, I discarded it.
Jameson didn't seem to give two shits about Frankie.
There was no pretending that the way he looked at me was purely sexual.
I’d seen it enough times to recognize when a guy was interested.
A thought occurred to me. Maybe if I admitted to Jameson that I was a virgin, he might not be interested.
He didn't seem the type who would be gentle.
He probably enjoyed the experience of someone who knew what they were doing.
Ugh.
More embarrassment flooded my cheeks and I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand even as I reached to retrieve the ripped up card.
I couldn't imagine that he'd want someone who was clearly an amateur.
I chewed my lip.
Maybe I could appeal to some buried sense of inherent goodness by explaining that I was waiting for the right man to gift my virginity.
Yeah, sure. That seemed likely.
But what else could I do aside from try to make him see that he didn’t want me in his bed?
My cheeks burned hotter.
Yeah, so basically I needed to convince the hard-as-nails detective who had some sort of thing for me that he didn’t want my virginity because…I probably sucked in bed?
So much for protecting my dignity.
Either way, I lose.
So if I managed to convince him that I wasn’t the right girl for him, I still had the pressing problem of Frankie’s incarceration to deal with.
Which meant I was back to selling my car.
And what if Jameson didn't care about my reasons for saving myself? What if...
No.
I couldn't waste energy on the maybe or what if.
Time to take a chance on honesty.
Maybe there was still a good guy living inside that shriveled heart.
By the time I got to my apartment, I was shaking.
I gathered up the ripped pieces of business card and dialed Jameson’s number, half hoping it went to voicemail, so I could leave a message and be done with it.
My fingers trembled as I held the phone to my ear. My breath caught when he answered.
Damn.
“You're full of surprises, baby girl.”
My stomach tightened. “Don't call me that. Before you get too excited, I thought I should tell you something.”
“Yeah? Such as?”
I drew a breath, praying for courage. “When you made your proposal, I'm assuming you thought a certain thing about me...which would've made me open to your...um, well, you know.”
His low chuckle sent a wild arc of electric awaren
ess dancing down my spine, tickling each vertebra with ghost fingers.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
Was he toying with me?
I frowned, hating that he was making me spell things out when he clearly knew what I was talking about.
I stiffened against the embarrassment of having to put myself through this humiliating experience but I managed to get the words out.
“I don't think you would've made that offer if you'd known that...well, I'm...saving myself for my husband. There, I said it and it's very personal so you can imagine that it was hard to share with a virtual stranger but I think it needed to be said to clear any misconceptions."
“You’re a virgin?”
“That’s usually what ‘saving yourself for marriage’ implies.”
“You mean to tell me no one has been between those thighs?”
The excruciating mortification squeezed my vocal cords, my heart pounding.
“Yes,” I ground out, hating that he seemed to enjoy my distress. What a bastard. “So, you can understand why I’m not interested in your offer.”
“I would wager a guess that you don’t know what you’re interested in, if you’re being truthful about your virginity,” he said casually, as if it were completely normal to have such a conversation between virtual strangers.
“I know that I don’t want you,” I said, refusing to give him an inch that may be construed in his mind as possibility.
“I’m good,” he stated bluntly, as if that information should sway me. “I can even be gentle.”
There was the tiniest, and I mean, tiniest illicit thrill at talking about something so personal with Jameson that I couldn’t quite ignore and I certainly couldn’t explain.
I wasn’t attracted to him.
He wasn’t my type — at all.
I liked my guys…nice.
Harmless.
Gentlemen.
The kind that, if I had parents, I wouldn’t hesitate to introduce him to.
Good God, I couldn’t ever imagine introducing Jameson to anyone I cared about.
But…there was something about him — something dangerous — that pulled at me in a way that shortened my breath and made my belly tremble.
“Ivy…”
My name in his mouth almost sounded filthy.
