PAYBACK (A Bad Boy Romance) (16 page)

M
y 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 awareness 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.

Warmth flooded my pelvis and I squirmed, intensely grateful that Jameson couldn’t see my reaction.

But the bastard must’ve sensed it because that damnable chuckle tickled my ear, giving away what he knew.

“Let’s say I believe you — which, I don’t — what makes you think that I wouldn’t want to be the first man to split you open?”

“God, are you always so crude?” I squeaked, barely able to breathe.

My heart was seriously jack-hammering and I thought at this rate, I might faint and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking that he’d caused it.

Even if it were true.

“You’re disgusting,” I said in a shaky tone that sounded a little too breathy for my tastes but I couldn’t quite help it. “I’m not attracted to you…
at all
.”

That was
mostly
true.

He ignored my statement. “Want to know something? I’m hard as fuck right now. You’re not my type either, baby girl, but there’s something about you that turns my crank. Do I like to fuck virgins? Not usually but for you…I’d make an exception.”

“Why?” I asked plaintively, wishing he’d been turned off by my admission. “I’m not interested in being your…
whatever
…fuck-buddy or whatever you’d like to call it. I want my first time to be
meaningful
…with someone I love. Not…a payoff. That makes me no different than a prostitute.”

“Baby, we’re all prostituting ourselves for something,” he said, amused. “You’re naïve if you think otherwise.”

“You’re a ray of sunshine,” I replied to his open cynicism, a prick of something akin to pity softening my tone. “You must be very unhappy.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

His voice took on a cold edge. “I don’t believe you’re a virgin but props for trying to pull that one off. Girls with brothers like yours don’t stay pure for long.”

Instant anger washed away the unwelcome hint of arousal I
may
have been suffering for the smallest sliver of time and I had to stop myself from shouting into the phone.

“You arrogant asshole,” I said. “You don’t know anything about my life or how I’ve lived it. You don’t have the right to judge me or make assumptions about my reputation. I
am
a virgin and staying away from jerks like you has been pretty easy, actually. I want a man who will cherish me, not treat me like property.”

“And yet you’re contemplating selling your car to bail out a brother who wouldn’t do the same for you,” he pointed out. “Seems either way, you’re willing to sell something of value to help out that shitbag.”

I couldn’t argue. He was right. I
was
considering selling my car.

And I agonized over the fear that Frankie wouldn’t truly appreciate my sacrifice.

I would end up carless, without a way to work and Frankie would find a way to get into more trouble.

My head began to throb. “Just fuck off,” I grumbled, wishing I’d never made the call. What had I been thinking? Jameson Reed didn’t care about anything but himself.

“The deal stands.”

I startled. “W-what?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice roughened. “Make your choice.”

What a fucking asshole. He was making me go through with this.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked. “Surely, there are other women…
willing
women…who are interested in having sex with you. Why don’t you go find them?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

The steel in his voice was frightening and, God help me, terribly alluring in the worst, most shameful way.

A beat of charged silence followed before I hung up.

He still wanted me. He wanted to take my virginity! The thing I’d been saving for someone special! Angry tears burned behind my eyes but I didn't let them fall.

I wasn’t going to cry. Tears didn’t solve anything.

I’d learned a long time ago that crying over a situation was a waste of energy.

But I felt defeated. I was trapped by my love for my big brother. I knew he wasn’t perfect but Frankie had always been my protector.

Frankie had been there when our parents died, looked out for me, made sure I had food and clothing, money for school books.

How could I abandon him when he clearly needed me?

I would never in a million years ditch the one person who’d always put my welfare above his own.

At least he used to.

I didn’t know if Frankie was addicted to drugs. I knew he was a dealer and I hated that, but I also knew that Frankie had done what he had to, to survive.

I didn’t judge him.

But damn it, when was he going to get his shit together so I could actually start living my life?

I just wanted some stability in my life for once.

If I didn't take the deal, Frankie might die in jail.

That was the cold, hard truth.

He'd made some poor choices in his life and there were plenty of people on the inside who'd like to get a piece of him.

I shuddered to think of what else might happen to him. Frankie was a good-looking guy — in spite of the drug use — and the last time he'd been beaten nearly to death it'd been because he'd fought off a guy trying to rape him in the supply closet.

Jameson might think Frankie deserved being fresh meat behind locked doors but I couldn’t leave my brother to that kind of fate.

It was barbaric, for one; but two, it was impossible to fathom the terror of being assaulted knowing no one was going to save you.

I couldn't leave Frankie in there. What kind of sister would I be if I turned my back on my only family?

Frankie would never abandon me if it were reversed. Frankie had been the one to watch my back when we were kids, even fending off foster dads with touchy-feely hands.

I wiped at my eyes. The choice seemed pretty clear. The phone in my hand seemed to leer at me, taunting me with the knowledge that I was going to place that call and take Jameson's deal.

The fucking, evil bastard.

And he probably knew it. Probably still had the phone in his hand, waiting.

Time to deal. I wasn't a baby anymore. Twenty-three was probably a long time to hold onto something like virginity in this day and age.

I rubbed my nose and tried to get a hold of myself. I’d long since learned life wasn't fair so there was no sense in belaboring the point.

I squeezed my eyes shut and hit redial. Within seconds he answered.

I went straight to the point, nearly choking on the bitterness on my tongue. “You have to promise me he gets probation,” I said tightly.