Tapped: A Blue Collar Bad Boys Book Read online

  I try to remember just two weeks ago when I probably thought the same thing. Nondescript.

  Fuck, she’s anything but nondescript right now.

  Her eyes, those sweet blue eyes are shining, and her cheeks are still flushed from her blushing. Her skin is smooth and soft. Her hair is about ten different colors depending on how the light hits it. And her body is soft and bountiful with curves that beg to be squeezed.

  And she thinks she’s plain.

  I sit on the edge of my desk, afraid that sitting too close to her on the couch will either get me laid or arrested. “So, earlier, I kissed you.” I sucked on her tongue, to be exact, but we’ll call it a kiss for now.

  “Yes, yes, you did. And it worked. It was maybe a little extreme, but I think the women who saw it will probably think you have a girlfriend now and will leave you alone.”

  “And you’re not mad?”

  “I’m not exactly happy about it. I mean it was a nice kiss,” she rushes to say.

  Nice?

  “...but you know you shouldn’t just grab women and kiss them.”

  Nice?

  I take a breath. Count to ten. Let it out. Nice. My. Ass. “Yeah. I guess I kind of snapped. I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

  “I know.”

  “I could hire you.” I don’t know where those words came from. They just flew out of my mouth, bypassing my brain.

  “Huh?”

  “To be my girlfriend. To keep up the show. For a week.”

  “You want to hire me to play the part of your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah.” Suddenly, it seems like the greatest idea I’ve ever had.

  “Why?”

  “That way it won’t seem so weird that I kissed you. We’ll act like we’re dating for two or three weeks and then we’ll just pretend we broke up.”

  “And you want to pay me for this?”

  “Yes. That seems fair. I don’t know what the going rate is, but ...”

  She holds up her hand. “I don’t even understand how this would work. You pay me to pretend in public that we’re dating. What does that include?”

  Think, Beck. “It wouldn’t have to be that much different from what we do now. You’re here at the bar most nights anyway. Maybe we’ll go out in public somewhere else once or twice.” There is no good reason I can think of that we’d need to do that, but I like the idea. “You know, for show. I’ll pay for that too, of course.”

  “Of course,” she says, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “And public displays of affection?”

  “Uh.” Now she’s got me thinking of touching her and kissing her again. I feel the pull down low. “Some.”

  “Some?”

  “Less intense. Maybe hand holding or quick kisses hello. Stuff like that.” I clear my throat. “But about you fucking that guy you see on campus...”

  She blushes. “That was a joke.”

  “Okay. Well, let’s just say we don’t date other people while we are doing this.”

  She crosses her arms and squints a little at me. I like that she’s not ignoring me anymore, even if it means she’s giving me the same look my mom does sometimes. “Do you think people will believe it if we just hold hands?”

  “You’re right. They might think that’s weird. We could maybe have a pay scale. I could pay you more for doing more ...displays of affection.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up. “Why do I feel like a hooker right now?”

  Fuck. “I didn’t mean—”

  “You can’t pay me to be your girlfriend. That’s ridiculous. And probably a little illegal.”

  “Oh. Of course. Sorry, I just—”

  “You don’t have to pay me.”

  The record scratch sound in my head stops all thoughts for a minute. Wait, what? “You’ll just do it? I mean just pretend to be my girl?” Why am I feeling like a kid that just found out he’s going to Disneyland? It’s been a long time since the idea of a real girlfriend sparked any interest in me at all, and now the thought of a fake one is making me happy.

  “But I do have a favor to ask.”

  “Of course, anything.”

  “I want you to help me get rid of something.”

  “Sure. What, a body?” I joke. I’m thinking maybe that ugly green couch in their living room. I kind of like the idea of her asking me to move heavy shit for her. I want to feel useful. Needed. This is the weirdest night.

  “My virginity.”

  “Your what now?” I think we’re having an earthquake. Suddenly the ground doesn’t feel stable under my feet anymore. “Did you say...?”

  “Yes. But don’t worry. The only thing I ask is that you don’t fall in love with me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Annabelle

  I THINK HE’S ABOUT to pass out.

  “Anker?” I wave my hand in front of his face.

  “Why...what...I have no idea what just happened.”

  “I was kidding about you not falling in love with me. I mean, I wasn’t kidding, I don’t want you to fall in love with me. But it was a joke because I understand you won’t. I was trying to deflect the shocking virgin part, but I think I made it worse.”

  I can’t even believe I said it.

  “You’re really a virgin? And you want me to...”

  “It’s weird, right? But this seems like the perfect opportunity. I want to lose my virginity, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend. As long as no money is changing hands, if we have sex once, it’s not like it’s prostitution or illegal for either of us. And this will probably be better than me trying to pick a random guy on campus.”

  He explodes off the desk. “That’s what that was about? You were going to have sex for the first time with a random asshole at college?”

  “Look, I know it’s odd. Most women have had sex by now. But I have reasons, and now that I’ve gotten this far, my virginity is starting to feel like a thing that just needs to go away.”

  “Why haven’t you...you know?”

  This is the strangest night of my life. Two hours ago, the idea of talking about my sex life, or lack of sex life, with Anker Beck, the hot boss of my friend, would have seemed like one of those dreams where you have to take a test you didn’t study for and you show up naked and can’t find your keys all in one. But if you can’t talk about sex with your boyfriend, who can you, right?

  My life is so weird.

  “I’m just awkward.”

  “You’re quiet, not awkward.”

  “No, I’m totally awkward.”

  “Annabelle...”

  “Look, I’m not afraid of sex or anything. I just don’t do well with the other intimacy stuff that leads to sex. So, do we have a deal?” I hold my hand out.

  Because shaking hands on a contractual fake relationship with a virginity clause is totally the right way to go with this, right?

  The shock seems to be wearing off, because now he appears to be thinking. “Maybe we should agree to the terms one more time. You will portray my girlfriend in public for one month, maybe two, and the only one who knows we are not really dating is Tanaya.”

  “Agreed.”

  “We will display affection openly in public.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And I will be your first lover.”

  That doesn’t sound like the transaction I’m trying to make it. “You will take my virginity, and we will have sex one time during the month that we appear to be dating.”

  “Right, one time per each month we date.”

  Is it my imagination, or has he been stretching out the length of this fake relationship? I’m pretty sure the conversation started with one week.

  He rubs his jaw thoughtfully. “I’m a little concerned.”

  “Just a little?”

  He huffs out a laugh. “The thing is...I’m...well, you know I’m a nice guy, right? I mean you’ve been around me a lot.”

  “Sure, yeah. You’re a nice guy.” Where is he going with this?

  “I don’t kno
w how to say this. I don’t want to freak you out and give you false expectations. I’m not exactly...a nice guy in bed.”

  I choke on a breath and lower the hand I’ve been waiting for him to shake.

  “I would never hurt you. But I like things...maybe rougher than you might think.”

  “Are we talking like whips and chains or...?”

  “Not so far, no. Just—I get a little...primal. Savage is maybe a good word for it. Kind of raw.”

  If he thinks this is making me leery, he’s wrong. Which might surprise him just as much as it’s surprising me right now. “Do women actually complain about that or something?”

  He leans down, moving into my space, his focus on me. My heart speeds up. “I’m fucking relentless in bed, Annabelle. I’m dirty as fuck, and I don’t hold back.”

  He’s staring at my lips, and my stomach dips again, remembering what it was like to have his tongue in my mouth.

  “So do we have a deal?” I hold my hand out and hope he takes it this time.

  He takes my hand in his but doesn’t shake it. “Are you sure? Do you trust me?”

  “Obviously, I trust you. It was my idea, remember?”

  He shakes my hand, and somehow I feel like maybe I just made a deal with the devil.

  Chapter Nine

  Anker

  IT’S FRIDAY. THE CRESCENT is busy. And I just had to run upstairs and jack off on my break.

  Annabelle is killing me. She’s not even trying.

  Every now and then, for the show, I stop at her table and say something low in her ear or touch her in a completely above-board way. The small gestures are making me hornier than I’ve ever been and I can’t begin to say why.

  She’s tucked into a booth reading something I’m pretty sure is written in Ye Olde English, and I don’t think she even knows I’m here except for when I stop at her table. For some reason, this makes me want to do something to make her notice me. I want her eyes on me. I want her to be aware of me at all times. It’s only fair.

  I’m aware of her at all times.

  I can’t believe she’s a virgin. I can’t believe she wants me to pop her cherry. I can’t believe I can think of nothing else. I’m desperate, a new feeling for me, and not a welcome one. I mean fuck. How did this girl wrap me around her little finger so fast? Is it because she’s ignoring me? Is she playing hard to get, and I’m just the dumb oaf falling for it?

  No. It was all me last night dragging her into this pretend relationship. It was me that suggested we keep playing it out. But maybe that’s been her plan all along? To stay in my peripheral vision every night and then pretend she doesn’t even know I exist?

  I look at her again. Nope. She’s really deep in that book. This isn’t some kind of long-game con. She really has no need for me other than the details of our arrangement. She’s not even trying really.

  I have too many orders coming at me fast, but I still find myself sliding into the booth next to her. I press a kiss to her temple. “I think you need to act like you like me more, gorgeous. It seems like it’s all me coming over here, and you are ignoring me. If we want people to believe you’re my girlfriend, you should try getting my attention more.”

  She scrunches her forehead. “But you’re working. You’re busy. Wouldn’t a good girlfriend not distract you so you can work?”

  Well, yes. But that’s not what I want, for some reason.

  She sets her book down, and it sort of thunks on the table because of its size. She picks up my arm and puts it around her so she can scooch in real close. “Like this?”

  She’s been drinking Shirley Temples all night, so she even smells like cherries. This was a bad idea. I want to lay her on the table and feast on every inch of her sweet-smelling skin. What is happening to me?

  “Well, this is better, yeah.”

  Thank fuck I’m wearing an apron around my waist.

  “Do you think I should kiss you?”

  Fuck, yeah. “If you want to.”

  She leans up and has a false start when I go left and she goes left. Then she bumps my nose on the second shot. We must look like we’ve never kissed before. Her third attempt lands right where I want her. Her soft lips part and time freezes. I love kissing this girl. She looks so sweet and innocent, but her mouth is temptation and pure sex. I have a feeling that there are two very different Annabelles living inside this one person, and I like them both. I want them both.

  I groan and pull her closer. All my responsibilities fade as I get lost in her mouth. In her kiss. I don’t want to come back from this. I want to stay here forever.

  Forever? Fuck me.

  I pull back. She’s got a dreamy expression in her eyes, and if it wasn’t so busy, I’d drag her upstairs and see if she gets dreamier after she’s come hard and often.

  If she likes kissing so much, I wonder what has kept her from having a real boyfriend. What was she talking about when she said she’s bad at intimacy? What was it she said to me? “Why don’t you want me to fall in love with you?”

  She blinks, still dreamy-eyed. “Huh?”

  “Last night, you told me you wanted me to be your first but that I couldn’t fall in love with you. Why? Am I that bad?”

  Those cornflower blue eyes widen in panic. “No. It has nothing to do with you. I mean other than the obvious. I was joking, anyway. Like you would ever fall in love with someone like me.”

  “Someone like you? What do you mean?”

  “Are you fishing for compliments now, Anker? Someone like you, as in, someone who could have any woman he wants is not going to fall for a nerdy, chubby girl—”

  I stop her from saying anything else stupid by kissing her roughly. Part of me is just pissed that she thinks that way about herself. Like I’m somehow better than her or some shit. When she’s quieted, I tell her, “Smart is sexy. There is nothing I like more than a woman who is intelligent. You’re not nerdy, you just have different priorities than a lot of people, and that is more than okay. It’s hot.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. And don’t say chubby like it’s a bad thing, either. I like soft curves. I’m a big man, and I’m not attracted to women who look like they might break.”

  She looks down at the table. “You’re being very sweet, but it’s okay. I’m not deluding myself about my weight. I’ve always understood that I just don’t have the body type that turns guys on. So you don’t have to reach for compliments to make me feel better. I’m fine.”

  I need to get back to work. But I can’t leave her until she understands. I pull her hand into my lap under my apron and let her get a feel of my raging hard-on. “Does that feel like a guy who’s not turned-on? Babe, I’ll never lie to you. I think your body is sexy. And I think you being smart makes it even hotter.”

  Her breathing is getting shallow. Good.

  I kiss her temple once more. “I have to get back to work, but every time you see me carrying a tray in front of my dick, you’ll know it’s because I was thinking of you and have to hide my erection.”

  The first chance I get, I’m going to need to go back upstairs and rub another one out. But Annabelle sits in the booth for a long time and doesn’t pick up her book.

  She’s watching me.

  Thank fuck, I think she’s finally noticing me.

  Chapter Ten

  Annabelle

  I’VE BEEN IN A MONOGAMOUS relationship for several days now and I think it agrees with me.

  I opt for a glass of wine instead of my usual kiddie drink this evening. I’m feeling a little more loose, but not really buzzed.

  Instead of my booth, Anker asked me to sit at the bar tonight. Tanaya is off, but he still wanted me to come in if I could. Sunday nights are slower, but he suspected, and he was right, that Shar would be in tonight knowing my roommate never works Sunday nights. That maybe I wouldn’t be here either.

  I think she is still hoping that the kiss was a fluke, but Anker has been so attentive all night long, I’m feeling her hopes fading
from where I sit at the other end of the bar.

  “Are you ready for your test tomorrow? I feel bad keeping you out late when I know you want to study,” he says, polishing a few glasses.

  “I’m ready for it.”

  “I think it’s great that you love school so much. I go because I need to learn business shit, but I don’t enjoy it like you do.”

  “Well, I don’t blame you. I would find business classes boring too.”

  He laughs. “How’s your wine?”

  “It’s still full enough. One might think you are trying to get me drunk the way you keep offering to refill it.”

  Anker comes around the bar and slides his arm around my middle, getting his mouth down to my ear. “Maybe I’m hoping to take advantage of you later.”

  “Maybe you don’t need to get me drunk to do that.”

  I know we are just playing a happy couple, but the way his eyes heat up makes my middle melt, like every organ gets gooey. His eyes drop to my lips and desire pools between my legs.

  He gets called to the other end of the bar where Shar is, and she is still making eyes at him. Not that I blame her. I don’t think I can control my eyes any better than she can. But something trips a wire inside my heart when I realize she hasn’t given up.

  She didn’t bring her friend with her tonight, which means she doesn’t have to listen to her friend’s sensible advice. She keeps trying to get Anker to look at her cleavage. Then she looks right at me when he’s turned to the other bartender.

  Jealousy, I realize for the first time, is not a pleasant feeling. Every muscle I own tenses up, and my blood feels hot. She is making a play for my man and doing it in front of me. And she doesn’t know he’s not really mine.

  How rude.

  The Annabelle from a week ago would bury her nose in a book and pretend this isn’t happening. But something changed last night when Anker put my hand on his erection and told me that I did that to him.

  This Annabelle doesn’t play so nicely with others.

  I call Anker to me, and he rounds the bar to where I’m sitting, turning my stool so I’m facing him. I put my hand on one of those rock-hard pecs and rub small circles into his skin.