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

  Maybe it’s for the best. I never know what to do around him. I just get all tongue tied from my crush that I end up looking foolish half the time. Like in the car. I wasn’t capable of coherent thought, much less a sentence. When he touched me with his hand, sending heat flying through my body. Honestly, I’m surprised that I didn’t ruin his seats I was so wet last night. But the way his eyes looked at me, asking for something…

  There’s no way that could be true. I shake my head, trying to clear the memory of the way his thumb moved over my skin, back and forth, back and forth. Why did I have to be so attracted to him?

  It’s not until Monday morning, when I come down for breakfast, that I see James at the counter pouring coffee. He looks good, as if he hasn’t aged a day. How is that possible? He’s wearing a half zip that does nothing to hide his muscular body, and a dark pair of jeans that hang from his hips perfectly. Even dressed down he looks sexy and powerful. Handsome face, great body-why did he have to be my dad’s best friend of all people? Why couldn’t I be attracted to someone my own age? Sometimes I can’t believe him and my dad are best friends. My dad looks, well, like a dad, with a beer gut and a receding hairline. James looks like a movie star. My hand immediately goes up to my hair, which is knotted in a lazy bun. I wish suddenly that put on something nice, instead of my old high school track shirt and sweatpants.

  “Morning Ava,” my dad says in a tone that’s way too excited for a Monday morning.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “We’re updating the B and B,” my dad says. “Top to bottom. James is going to be here for the next few weeks helping us make it happen.”

  My heart skips a beat.

  “You are?” I’m going to see James every day? I don’t know if I can handle that.

  “Cool,” my little brother, Gary, says. “Does this mean I can help in the shop too?”

  “Not until you’re fourteen,” dad says sternly.

  “But I’m sure we have lots of painting you can help out with,” mom adds as she puts down a plate of pancakes in the middle of the table.

  Gary sticks out his tongue, but everyone ignores him.

  “We’re doing fine,” I say. It’s old, and a bit drafty, but it’s got character. “People come here because they like it the way it is, otherwise they’d stay at a Hilton or something.”

  “Well they will once it gets built next year,” mom says. “I love Selkirk House as much as you do honey, but we don’t even have air conditioning in half the rooms. We’re going to have to do a lot more if we want to stay up to date, and I can’t think of anyone better than James to help us make that happen.”

  I take two pancakes and pass it on to Dad.

  “I don’t like it,” I insist.

  “We’re going to keep all of the charm of the place Ava,” James says. “I like it the way it is too. I don’t intend on getting rid of everything. If anything I’m going to make sure we try and preserve as much of it as possible. You’ll see. I won’t tear out everything you love about the place.”

  And then he flashes me a brilliant smile, one that has me puddling in my panties. I duck my head down, blush rushing across my cheeks.

  “Luckily, it’s not the busy season right now so a bit of construction shouldn’t bother the guests too much. We’ll begin on the third floor. Sandra, I need you and Ava to try and push the furniture towards the center of the room. I’m going to poke around in the walls and such to make sure that we don’t have any nasty surprises. Once we’ve got everything figured out, then I’ll be bringing in a crew. Sounds good?”

  “I’ve never done a renovation before,” my mom says, worry knitting her brow. “It sounds like a huge headache.”

  “That’s why Bill brought me here,” James assures her. “So you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  Knowing my mom though, that’s never going to happen. Her second job is worrying.

  “So have you seen a movie star yet?” Gary asks James.

  “I bumped into Matthew Perry once at the airport,” he replies. My brother gives him a puzzled look. “Before your time huh?”

  “And what about a nice girl?” my mother asks coyly.

  “There’s not many of those. Nor natural ones either,” James says as he helps himself to more pancakes. “They’re all a little too… plastic for me.”

  I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until I release it. I don’t know what I’d do if James has a girlfriend. It hurts too much to think about. I mean, it has to happen eventually. I remember he dated back when we lived in Boston. And he’s a super successful businessman now. He’d be a catch for any woman. But knowing that logically doesn’t change the fact that it pains me to not be able to have him for myself.

  “You know, Sandra knows someone at her book club who could be perfect for you,” my dad says. “Monique or Mona or something like that, right honey?”

  “Yes! She’s wonderful, and makes chocolate chip cookies that are out of this world. We should invite her over to dinner.”

  I stand up suddenly from the table. I can’t listen to this talk anymore. I don’t want to hear about James going out with anyone else. My mom gives me a perplexed look, but I just grab my dish and pop it into the dishwasher.

  “I’m going to go and get changed if we’re going to be doing work on the B and B today,” I say as I get out of the room as fast as possible.

  ********

  Selkirk House is over a hundred and thirty years old. I know this because I did a lot of research once my mom and dad told me they were going to buy it and we were going to move in. A robber baron had it built for his wife, though they never did stay in it for more than a few weeks a year. It passed on down the family, falling into disrepair, until it was bought and turned into a B and B forty years ago. At the time, only the first two floors were updated. Slowly, as Selkirk House became a more and more popular place to stay, additions and updates were done.

  Then the recession hit, and things started going downhill again. My parents bought it for really cheap, just as things started to turn around. Business as far as I can tell has been steadily rising, so it does make sense in a way to start updating the rest of the house. It’s a mish mash of a bunch of different design styles, none of them coherent or true to the house. The idea of bringing it back to its time period is something that my mom and I both love, but we just never knew how or where to start.

  Once I’ve showered and changed (and okay, put on a little bit of makeup), I head up to the third floor. I am glad we’re fixing up these rooms. I always felt bad when I had to put a guest in one of them during the summer. It gets really hot, especially in the rooms where the roof slopes down. I find my mom in the first room, pushing a dresser towards the center of the room.

  “Hey mom,” I say, coming in and helping her drape plastic over the furniture. “You’ve got a lot done already huh?”

  “I’m going to need your help for the bed here,” she replies, gesturing at the old canopy bed. “Although we might need to wait for James. I wish your dad could be here to help too.”

  Dad works as a park ranger for the National Park just outside of town. During the summer, we get lots of families who like to visit.

  “Well, if the business does pick up like dad and James are talking about, then maybe he could quit and help out here too,” I say.

  “Wouldn’t that be nice?” my mom says. “It would make it all worth it wouldn’t it?”

  I go to one side of the bed and my mom moves to the other. It’s solid wood, and old, so it takes us a bit, but we finally manage to pull it out enough that we can wedge ourselves behind the headboard and push the bed to the center of the room.

  “You know, if business does improve, we’d be able to pay for you to go to university too,” my mom says casually. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  I stiffen. I can’t help it. We’ve gone through this argument multiple times, and it never ends well. I feel her eyes on me, waiting for an answer.

&
nbsp; “You know how I feel. I want to stay here,” I say firmly, hoping that she’ll take the hint. But of course she keeps pushing.

  “We could use someone who’s got a business degree to help us run things.”

  That’s a new tactic, I think. At least one part of what I’m saying is starting to seep into her brain.

  “Why don’t you go and get a degree yourself then mom?”

  “Oh honey, I would, but it wouldn’t do any good for someone as old as I am,” my mom says with a weary shake of her head. “You would get much more use out of it. I think you’ll find that not having a degree can make life more difficult than it needs to be for yourself.”

  “But you did just fine without a degree,” I say stubbornly. Why can’t she just listen for once? I don’t think what I’m saying is all that confusing, but you’d think I’m speaking a different language. “And I think you’ve had a great life.”

  “I married your father when I was eighteen, had a kid not long after that. Don’t get me wrong, it is a good life, but I missed out on things. Things I don’t want you to miss out on.”

  “So you’re just trying to live vicariously through me. That’s really great mom,” I say sarcastically. I look up and see the fury on her face.

  “You know what-”

  My mom’s phone rings, interrupting what she’s about to say. Probably for the best, because I’m in no mood to hold back. I’ve tried to explain so many times, but no matter what I say, it seems like what I want means nothing to her.

  “Hello?” she says, giving me a look that clearly says she’s not finished with me yet. “Gary? Again? Okay.”

  She hangs up.

  “Your brother’s skipped school again. I’m going to go find him. We’ll pick up this conversation later,” she says as she heads toward the door.

  “Or not. You already know how I feel. That’s not going to change,” I holler after her. “No matter what!”

  I turn back towards the room, feeling angry and unsatisfied. I don’t even want to cover up the rest of the furniture. Not when half the stuff is too heavy for me to move alone. I plop down on the canopy bed, staring at the intricate embroidery work. I love Selkirk House, maybe even more than my mom does. She likes meeting the travelers, listening to their stories. Me, I love the house itself. Telling people about its history, showing people its secrets, preserving the atmosphere of a different time. It was me that dug up old pictures of the place at the local library to show how the rooms used to be, what sort of furniture we should buy for the main rooms that would be authentic to the times.

  “Hey, I couldn’t help but overhear. Is everything okay?”

  I sit bolt upright. James! I’m embarrassed that he sees me like this, lazing around instead of doing work.

  “It’s fine,” I say, scrambling to get off the bed. “Just an argument.”

  “Over what?”

  He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorway. He’s got his sleeves rolled up for work, and it stirs something inside of me. Of course he was up here working too. We’re all alone up here, I realize. I’m on a bed. My mind jumps into the gutter before I can stop it. Quickly I get off and fiddle with the plastic sheeting, hoping he didn’t pick up on what I’m thinking. I can feel his gaze lingering on me.

  “She doesn’t want me here,” I say at last. “She thinks I should go to college.”

  I hear him walk a few steps into the room. The next thing I know his strong hands are taking the plastic, pulling it over the large bed with ease.

  “And I take it you don’t want to go.”

  “No, not at all. I like working here at the B and B. There’s something so wonderful about this place,” I say, gesturing to the room around us. “Even if it is run down.”

  “It won’t be once I’m finished. It’ll be restored back to its glory. I’m actually excited. I don’t often get to work with a house like this in my line of work. We update houses of course, but feels more meaningful.”

  “I think it’s wonderful,” I say softly. “All this history, all the stories in these walls. I’m glad we’re not going to destroy it.”

  He heads toward the old wingback chairs by the windows, and I hurry to help get the other one. We place them side by side in the middle. I look up at him, and words leave me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to James. I must not have, because I would remember those eyes if I did. Like warm chocolate, with mesmerizing amber flecks. I could just look at them forever. He leans in for just a second, and the smell of him fills my lungs, woodsy and dark, with an undertone of clean sweat from the hard work he’s been doing all morning. I feel a pull in my chest towards him.

  Silence falls between us, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he leans even closer. His hand cups my face. It’s rough and calloused, I notice for some reason. From a hardworking man. One who doesn’t just give orders, but actually does the work too. I wish I could understand what he’s thinking, but his eyes have darkened somehow. His thumb strokes my cheek, a touch more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced. I can’t think straight, every part of me zeroed in the point where we’re touching. My breath hitches, my nipples hardening in response to his presence. My knees are quivering, and I clutch onto the back of the chair to keep myself upright.

  “Ava,” he says, his voice husky and low.

  My mind flashes back to the way he looked at me in the car, his eyes taking in my body in that stupid dress Macy made me wear. Did he like the way my breasts spilled out? Did he enjoy looking at my legs? I thought he didn’t because he was so angry, but now, with the way he’s looking at me, I can’t be so sure. Could he… could he want me too, as much as I want him? My whole face is warming up at the idea.

  His hand tightens on me, and my whole body coils up, anticipating what’s to happen. My lips part, and I see the way his pupils dilate open. I don’t know what’s going on, only that I want it go continue on. I want to touch him too, I want to pull him to me, but I’m too afraid. I don’t know what to do with a boy, much less a man.

  As if sensing how nervous I am, James gives me a tiny smile, before leaning in and kissing me. I stiffen up, afraid to even breathe, but the kiss is so gentle, so tender, that I start melting in his grip. He breaks the kiss for a moment, only to kiss me again, firmer this time, and it’s like my body wakes up at last. My hand goes to his shoulder, steadying myself against him. Soft cotton over hard muscle. James definitely worked out.

  When he kisses me again, I respond this time, pushing back gently, getting lost in the feel of our lips against each other, the roughness of his stubble, the warmth of his tongue as it sweeps past my lips and tangles with mine. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer to his body in a possessive way that made me ache between my legs. Sensations are lighting up all over me as my brain tries to process the fact that we’re pressed together, that this is happening at all. James is my first kiss, but even with nothing to compare to, I know that this is amazing. That this is worth all the waiting.

  James’ kisses grow fiercer, rougher as he tries to keep me pressed to him, and I surrender to his lead. His hands glide down my waist, over my ass, lifting me up high until my legs lock around his waist. He takes two steps to the left, pushing me back against the wall. I can feel something hard and hot press against my cleft. Is that his cock? Surprise and panic cuts through the delicious sensation of having him grinding against me. It’s huge. His eyes are dark with desire, looking at me like a thirsty man in a desert.

  His kisses trail down to my neck, and I can’t help but moan his name softly. I thread my hands through his dark hair, all my nervousness forgotten. Whatever he’s doing with his lips, it feels heavenly. Tendrils of pleasure spread wherever he touches me, and my nipples stiffen into peaks. His hands find them, pushing my breast above the bra cups. His powerful hands knead and massage my breasts, pinching and rolling the tips. It feels deliriously good, like nothing I’ve ever done to myself. I moan his name, begging him for what, I don’t know, only that I want
to be touched, everywhere. I rock against his cock, forgetting everything as I let lust take over. Is it possible to come just like this? I don’t know, but it feels so damn good, I feel myself hovering on the brink, and maybe I just need a little more pressure-

  “YOU’RE THE WORST MOM EVER!”

  The voice cuts through our moment, and James and I immediately freeze up. Is that… Gary’s voice I hear through the window?

  “Gary, get back here,” my mom’s furious voice cuts through. “I’m not finished talking to you.”

  I hear the loud slam of a car door. My mom’s is definitely back!

  “I have to go,” James murmurs, setting me back down. “But I’m not done with you Ava.”

  Our moment slips through my fingers like sand. I wish it could have lasted just a little longer. But I know what it would mean if we’re caught together like this, so I nod reluctantly and let go of his shoulders. James moves across the room in quick strides, pauses at the doorway for a moment, and leaves.

  James

  The last thing I want to do is leave Ava in the room all by herself, but I know it would be worse to stay. I shouldn’t have gone in there in the first place, but Ava sounded upset, and I thought maybe I could talk to her again like I used to, as a mentor or something. Not that that lasted long. I couldn’t keep my fucking hands to myself, like some hormonal teenager. I expect better out of myself but I was too weak. There’s something wrong with me. Even now, my cock’s straining against my jeans, desperate to rub right up against her pussy again. I could feel how hot she was, even with the layers between us.

  And the way she looked up at me, holding onto me tightly, all sweet and innocent like. Stop it. James you lecher, I think savagely. Ava’s never even kissed before. I could tell, by how nervous she was, by the hesitant way she explored me with her hands. Untouched by any other man. Damnit. That only made me want her more, even though I know that makes things complicated as hell. I’m not going to get rid of my erection like this, and the last thing I need is for Sandra to come storming up here and see. With a cock like mine, it’s impossible not to notice.