Taking His Virgin (An Older Man Younger Woman Romance) Read online

  Copyright

  © 2017 Lila Younger

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Kindle Edition

  Become an ARC reader at http://eepurl.com/cedD7H

  Sign up for Lila’s mailing list and never miss out at http://eepurl.com/ceagmn

  Catch Lila’s book cover reveals, teasers, and more at www.facebook.com/lilayounger

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Ava

  James

  James

  Ava

  James

  Ava

  James

  Ava

  James

  Ava

  Epilogue | James

  Here’s the first chapter of my book His Virgin Babysitter… Enjoy!

  Other books by Lila Younger

  About Lila Younger

  Ava

  “You should wear this one,” my best friend Macy says, holding up a pink top covered in sequins.

  It’s two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, and instead of being outside, enjoying the sunshine, I’m at a dinky mall with my best friend Macy. Not exactly how I would enjoy the afternoon, but I haven’t seen Macy in forever. She’s on her spring break, and for once she isn’t jetting off to Cancun. I have a feeling it has something to do with her new relationship. It hasn’t gone past six months yet, but it’s getting close, which would be a miracle for Macy.

  She puts the top up to my chest and squints at it.

  “Ken won’t be able to miss you in this.”

  I wrinkle my nose, both because the top is way too loud for my taste, and because of the mention of Ken. No thank you. I don’t need a football player with no neck and no conversational skills. Correction, an ex-football player, since technically we’ve already graduated high school and Ken no longer plays football. That doesn’t stop girls from swooning over the guy anyways, but he’s not my type at all.

  Plus I’ve given my heart to someone else already, even if they’ll never know it, I add silently to myself.

  “That’s not my style and you know it,” I say as I take the top and shove it back into the rack. “Come on. We’re not going to find what we want here.”

  “You don’t know that,” she says, fingering a second top. “This is nice.”

  I give an exasperated sigh. It’s a gauzy chiffon with zebra print. Is she shopping for me or for herself? That’s the thing with Macy. She’s got a good heart, but she is just the teensiest bit self-absorbed. But hey, maybe that’s not a bad thing. It’s not like I wanted to shop for clothes to begin with.

  “Macy, why don’t you try it on? I bet it would look good on you,” I say encouragingly. “Here, I’ll help you find a size.”

  She gives me the side eye.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she says, hands on her hips. “You’re trying to distract me. It won’t work today. We’re here for you, and that’s that. I mean, when was the last time you’d gone out anyways? On grad night? Before that? This is Nikki’s birthday. You can’t not go out for that.”

  Nikki is my other friend. We’ve been nicknamed the Triplets by our teachers since we found each other in the fifth grade. We’re all brunettes, with the same bottle green eyes and ski slope nose. Of course, the resemblances end there. I’m quieter, a bookworm who has no problem staying out of the spotlight. Macy is the one who happily takes all the attention. And Nik is somewhere in the middle. Maybe that’s why we’ve gotten along together so well. We’re symbiotic. Point is, Macy is right. Even though the three of us were going to celebrate on the actual day of Nikki’s birthday, it would be ridiculous to skip the weekend celebrations of my best friend.

  “Okay,” I say at last. “I’ll come to the bonfire at least.”

  “Good,” Macy says with a smile. “That’s more like the old Ava I know. Now come on. We have to hurry if we’re going to find Nik’s gift and get back in time.”

  We head out of Penney’s and down the broad walkway of the mall. It’s not a very big mall, but it’s the best we’ve got if we don’t want to drive almost two hours to a major city. That’s the crappy thing about living in a small town. There’s nothing there except for a Wal-Mart. So when we want to buy things like gifts, we have to drive to the next town over. And even this isn’t that great. Half the lots are empty or the stores look like they’re about to close. If I went to college with Macy in Boston or Nikki in Providence I would have an endless choice of clothes probably. But I’m not ready for college. I want to help my parents out with their B and B first, or maybe forever. Is it really that bad to want to do that? They seem to think so.

  We wander along until we get to the Victoria Secret/Pink store. Nikki loves the hoodies and leggings here, so we head inside and buy her a cute pink and black set from the both of us.

  Once that’s done, I give a sigh of relief. Now we can start heading home. Maybe I’ll be able to finish up painting the room, and then there are the chairs mom talked about reupholstering last week and-

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Macy says, yanking on my arm.

  “I thought we’re done.” I hold up the pink paper bag. “What else is there to do?”

  “Your outfit. Don’t think I’ve forgotten. Besides, I could use something new too.”

  There go my plans. I look at my friend, but there’s a determined gleam in her eye that I know all too well. And it’s not like I could just walk out of here. Macy’s the one who drove us. Was that why she volunteered? I should have known… Yet another reason to hate living in a small town. No public transportation anywhere. I better just get this over with.

  Macy smiles sweetly when she sees that she’s won.

  “I’ll make this quick and painless,” she promises.

  Together we head to Forever 21. Like Victoria’s Secret, it’s one of the few stores in the mall with any customers, but the place gives me a headache. There are just too. Many. Clothes. Racks upon racks upon racks. For people like Macy, it’s a thrilling challenge. For people like me, who could happily live in my jeans and tank tops, it’s daunting. That’s why I never come in here with Macy. She dives into the fray, happy as a clam, piling up clothes in my arms. Once I’ve got a small mountain of clothes in my arms, we head to the back where the changing rooms are.

  “Here,” she says. “I got these for you.”

  She separates out the pile, taking out most of it for herself. What’s left is… much more toned down. I actually spot a few things with sleeves. Could Macy actually be listening to me for once?! Maybe the fact that I’m not as boy crazy as she is finally getting through to her. I take the clothes into the changing room, but before I could start trying things on, my phone vibrates with a message. I pick it up, and my heart skips a beat. I could recognize the chiseled, sexy face in that profile pic anywhere.

  James.

  I unlock my phone quickly and open up Facebook. A message from James, which makes me happy. We don’t communicate all that much, just here or there when I find an interesting article to show him, or he has a cool new band out of Washington D.C. he thinks I’d like or something. Sometimes months could go by before he replies, and I’m too much of a chicken to keep sending him messages. I don’t want him to know that I like him, because that would be too
mortifying.

  After all, he’s my dad’s best friend. Yeah, I’m cringing a little just admitting it to myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I mean, the guy’s almost twenty years older. Twenty years more sophisticated. What would he want to do with his best friend’s kid anyways? If it wasn’t for these messages once in a while, I’d think that he’d forgotten that I existed.

  He’s sent me a link to a Smithsonian exhibit on Picasso. I can’t believe he remembers that that’s my favorite artist. See, this is exactly why a guy like Ken could never compete with a man like James. All that’s in his head is football, beer, and how much he benchpresses at the gym. He would probably pronounce Picasso wrong too.

  I really want to hold off replying to his message, but I can’t help it. Maybe if I’m fast, he’ll be around, and we can strike up a conversation like we used to, before he moved all the way to Washington D.C. I type something quickly, asking him how his trip to Australia went, but my question just hangs in the void, unanswered. I guess I just didn’t stay on his mind for very long. It really shouldn’t affect me like this, but my whole body slumps from disappointment.

  Ugh, how sad can you get Ava?

  I slip my phone back into my purse, take off my clothes, and put on the first thing Macy’s got me. It’s a dark grey, one shoulder dress. The stretchy fabric, gathered at the side, really enhances the curviness of my body in a way that’s screams sexiness. It’s actually gorgeous. What would James say if he saw me in this? My mind asked. Would he like it? Would it make his eyes stop and notice me as more than just a kid finally? The hem barely stops short of my butt, and I have to keep tugging it. Not that it matters. James moved away almost two years ago and hasn’t been back since. Not for my dad’s birthday, not for holidays, nothing. I get a twisty feeling every time I think about that but I couldn’t blame him for it. Who would want to waste their vacation days on coming here of all places? Last I heard, he was making a fortune flipping houses in Washington D.C.

  But a little tiny part of me still holds out hope.

  I take off the dress and pull another one off the hanger. This one is made of white lace all over, definitely way too fancy for a bonfire and the skeevy pub where we’d go for drinks and dancing. It is gorgeous though. I finger the lace wistfully. It’s the sort of classy dress that James’ girlfriend would wear. Does wear probably, since there’s no way a man as hot as him could be single. I mean, rich people have fancy dinner parties all the time, right? I go up onto my tippy toes and turn a little, imagining James pulling down the exposed zipper on the back, kissing my bare skin…

  Macy bangs on the door.

  “Ava! Come out!”

  I open up the door. Macy’s wearing a red crushed velvet dress with a plunging V neck and bell sleeves.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s very you,” I say.

  “Isn’t it?” She twirls. “I love it. It’s so soft feeling.”

  She stops and turns to me critically.

  “That’s way too covered up,” she declares. “I don’t like it. Here, try on this one.”

  I close the door and do as she says. It’s a black halter neck dress, more like a tunic, banded at the bottom and completely bare in the back. I have to take off my bra for it, and it’s, well, it’s a hell of a lot more than I’m used to showing, that’s for sure. Actually, I can’t remember the last time I wore something that showed so much cleavage.

  “Macy, I don’t think so,” I say as I open up the door. She whistles when she sees me. “For one thing, I’m not even sure it’s a dress. I’m going to freeze to death out on the beach, if my mom doesn’t kill me first.”

  “Wear leggings,” she advises. “You can toss it in your purse once you get out of the house. I think you look good in it. Man, you have the biggest boobs out of all of us I think. You just never show it.”

  I tilt my head at my reflection. I do look pretty good in this. I gather up my hair in a messy updo so that it doesn’t hide my chest at all. Can I really pull this off? Out of the three of us, I’d say Nikki is the most beautiful, but wearing this…

  “It’s a bit much isn’t it?”

  Macy looks over my shoulders into the mirror.

  “That’s the point Ava,” she says. “You are super gorgeous, super smart, and just about the kindest person in the world. You deserve to be noticed. You deserve to be loved. Now I don’t know why that seems to bother you so much, but it shouldn’t. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of a boyfriend than you. And it doesn’t have to be Ken. Nik and I can find you a nice nerdy boy or someone who has their nose in a book as much as you do. But you’ll never get that if you don’t put yourself out there. Advertise that you are single, you know what I mean?”

  I think over her words. Maybe Macy is right. Maybe I’ve been holding onto my silly teenage fantasy of catching James’ eye for far too long. It’s probably not healthy, and more than a little weird. Macy and Nikki know about my crush with James because of a truth or dare back in a sixth grade sleepover. But they think I like him in the way I’d like, say, Christian Grey, not as an actual possibility. That I think would be a little too much for even wild Macy to handle.

  “Okay. I’ll get it,” I relent at last. “But I’m not promising I’ll take off the leggings.”

  “Deal,” my friend says, flashing me a grin. “Tonight is going to be a blast. I promise. Now come help me make choices with mine. I’ve got at least ten more things to try on.”

  James

  It’s another brisk, sunny day in Washington D.C.. It’s actually nice enough to roll back the roof on my Porsche, if I was willing to smell exhaust for the rest of the day. I tap my fingers on the wheel. Even after all this time in Washington D.C., I still haven’t learned that it’s faster to take the subway. It’s a damn waste of my time, and these days, that’s very expensive. I have a few sites to visit today, all commercial properties that have the potential to make me millions. I started out flipping houses, but moved over when I realized that there’s so much more to be made. I bought myself the 911 after my first million dollar deal, a gift to myself for having finally made it.

  My phone pings with a text from my assistant, confirming the addresses of the three properties that I’ll be looking at tomorrow. That’s the life of an entrepreneur. I work 7 days a week, whenever I can. Some days it’s for two hours, some days it’s twelve. Whatever I need to do to keep things running. I answer back, and turn up the radio. I find it’s good to listen in and keep tabs on the city. Knowing what’s going on is a good way to help gauge which areas will be trending up, which neighborhoods I shouldn’t bother with. I tune in just in time to catch the end of a piece on a traveling Picasso exhibit making its way to Washington D.C. Ava likes Picasso, the thought flickers into my head. I grit my teeth. Ava. I’m normally great at shutting her out of my thoughts, keeping that part of me locked up.

  The traffic stalls to a complete standstill. My hand goes for my phone, hops onto Facebook before I can convince myself not to. I don’t use the damn thing. I don’t see a point in it, but I keep it. For her. She’s got a new cover image up, one from Klimt’s golden phase. Ava loves her art, even if she’s stranded in the middle of nowhere. I click on her profile picture, a close-up on the beach. Her eyes, green ringed with gold, are mesmerizing, and her bee stung lips are slightly open. She’s got on this white and blue striped bikini that shows off her creamy skin, her lush curves. She looks beautiful. I don’t think anyone could blame me for looking, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was my best friend’s daughter.

  I hover on the message button, then click on it. The window shows I haven’t talked to her in almost four and a half months. My self-imposed rule was three months, at a minimum. That’s the acceptable amount for someone who she sees almost as an uncle. Any more and I’d be too tempted to do more, to pursue more, and that’s a dangerous path I couldn’t go down. Not when I know how I feel has no place in our relationship. It’s why I moved to Washington D.C. after all
. To physically remove myself from temptation.

  My message to Ava is short, just a link. I refrain from inviting her down to see, even though I want to. She’s twenty now, old enough to decide what to do. But what twenty year old is ever interested in a guy almost double her age? The traffic starts to move and I slip my phone back into my pocket. Probably for the best. I rarely indulge myself because it’s too easy to let go, too easy to slip up. The only way to avoid it is to be in control at all times, never let it go too far.

  There are times when I think I’m over Ava, when I manage not to think about her at all. But then something like this will come up, and I’ll see her picture, and the feeling runs me over like a freight train. I can’t find anyone else who can even come close to what she does to my dick. It’s a blessing and a fucking curse, that’s for sure.

  I’m almost back at my house when I get a call. It’s Bill, Ava’s father. I’ve done nothing wrong, but I take a few deep breaths before I answer anyways.

  “Hey Bill, how’s it going?”

  “James. Things… are okay.” Bill says slowly. There’s a weariness in his voice that’s new. “It’s been a while since you’ve visited.”

  “It’s pretty far out of the way,” I reply as I turn onto my street. “You shouldn’t have moved.”

  Bill and Sandra moved from Boston to the little town of Montrose so that Sandra could afford to stay at home and take care of Ava. I didn’t understand the decision at the time, but it seemed to make them happy. Who was I to judge that? It was a two hour drive for me, so I’d often stay on the weekends. That was until Ava grew up overnight, and I found myself wanting to drive up to see her rather than her father. I decided to make the move to Washington D.C. then too.

  “That didn’t use to stop you.”

  “Yeah, well, Washington D.C. is a lot further than Boston. Is that why you called me? To nag me to visit?”

  “Hey, if you’re not interested in seeing an old friend…” Bill tries to keep it light, but years of friendship tell me something is definitely bothering him.

  I open up my garage as I wait to hear what he has to say. I live in a large, Mediterranean style house that could comfortably house at least ten people. Currently there’s one. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog, but my hours would make it impossible for me to take care of one properly. That wouldn’t be fair to the animal. Maybe one day though. I grew up with a dog. If I ever found a woman to settle down with… I steer my thoughts quickly away from that train of thought.