The Virgin Gift

  The Virgin Gift

  Lauren Blakely

  Contents

  Copyright

  Also By Lauren Blakely

  About

  The Virgin Gift

  1. Nina

  2. Nina

  3. Adam

  4. Adam

  5. Nina

  6. Nina

  7. Nina

  8. Adam

  9. Nina

  10. Nina

  11. Nina

  12. Adam

  13. Adam

  14. Nina

  15. Nina

  16. Nina

  17. Adam

  18. Adam

  19. Nina

  20. Adam

  21. Nina

  22. Brandon

  23. Nina

  24. Adam

  25. Nina

  26. Brandon

  27. Adam

  28. Brandon

  Epilogue

  Another Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Contact

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 by Lauren Blakely

  Cover Design by Helen Williams. 1st Edition, 2019

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This book is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy romance novels. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Also By Lauren Blakely

  Big Rock Series

  Big Rock

  Mister O

  Well Hung

  Full Package

  Joy Ride

  Hard Wood

  One Love Series

  The Sexy One

  The Only One

  The Hot One

  The Knocked Up Plan

  Come As You Are

  The Heartbreakers Series

  Once Upon a Real Good Time

  Once Upon a Sure Thing

  Once Upon a Wild Fling

  Sports Romance

  Most Valuable Playboy

  Most Likely to Score

  Lucky In Love Series

  Best Laid Plans

  The Feel Good Factor

  Nobody Does It Better

  Unzipped

  Always Satisfied Series

  Satisfaction Guaranteed

  Instant Gratification

  Overnight Service

  Never Have I Ever

  Special Delivery

  The Gift Series

  The Engagement Gift

  The Virgin Gift

  The Decadent Gift (coming soon)

  Standalone

  Stud Finder

  The V Card

  Wanderlust

  Part-Time Lover

  The Real Deal

  Unbreak My Heart

  The Break-Up Album

  21 Stolen Kisses

  Out of Bounds

  Birthday Suit

  The Dating Proposal

  The Caught Up in Love Series

  Caught Up In Us

  Pretending He’s Mine

  Playing With Her Heart

  Stars In Their Eyes Duet

  My Charming Rival

  My Sexy Rival

  The No Regrets Series

  The Thrill of It

  The Start of Us

  Every Second With You

  The Seductive Nights Series

  First Night (Julia and Clay, prequel novella)

  Night After Night (Julia and Clay, book one)

  After This Night (Julia and Clay, book two)

  One More Night (Julia and Clay, book three)

  A Wildly Seductive Night (Julia and Clay novella, book 3.5)

  The Joy Delivered Duet

  Nights With Him (A standalone novel about Michelle and Jack)

  Forbidden Nights (A standalone novel about Nate and Casey)

  The Sinful Nights Series

  Sweet Sinful Nights

  Sinful Desire

  Sinful Longing

  Sinful Love

  The Fighting Fire Series

  Burn For Me (Smith and Jamie)

  Melt for Him (Megan and Becker)

  Consumed By You (Travis and Cara)

  The Jewel Series

  A two-book sexy contemporary romance series

  The Sapphire Affair

  The Sapphire Heist

  About

  I might still carry my V-card, but I know exactly what I want in a man. Smart, charming and oh-so-skilled. Too bad I haven't found him yet.

  But maybe he's found me. .

  Because when my charming, laid-back, next-door neighbor discovers a secret list I keep, he volunteers to work through every single item on it. .

  Including the last one -- at the end, we walk away and stay friends. .

  I say yes to his offer, and that's when I discover another side to him.

  A side I adore. A side I crave. He's commanding, intense, and everything I've ever wanted.

  But as we check things off one by one, I find myself breaking the most important rule of all. And I have no idea what it will do to my heart.

  The Virgin Gift

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  1

  Nina

  From my vantage point, I saw it all.

  I watched the prelude to every fantasy unfold. I witnessed women luxuriating in their bodies and men wrapping their arms around them—lovers poised with coiled tension, a powder keg of desire primed to explode.

  I gazed at women and women, men and women, men and men. And women alone, desire written in their eyes.

  Today, from behind the lens, I studied a party of two, drenched in sexual anticipation.

  In my studio, the curvy brunette stretched like a cat across the sapphire-blue cover on the opulent bed. The dark-haired man gripped her hip with one hand, his other in her hair. He lay behind her, his body sealed to hers, his eyes hooded.

  A queen flanked by her loyal soldier, who served and protected her. Or maybe she served him. As I snapped shot after shot, I wrote the script to their after-dark affairs, imagining filthy moment after filthy moment.

  Truth be told, I didn’t have to imagine much. Their passion for each other was evident in their expressions, unmistakable in the tangling of their limbs. Yes, I’d posed them in my studio boudoir, but the poses came so naturally to these two.

  I moved around the bed, giving direction from my Nikon. “Marco, can you move your hand down her thigh a little bit? I want to see more of the curve of Evangeline’s sexy hip.”

  “It is the sexiest hip God ever created,” he growled, making the adjust
ment.

  “And, Evangeline, look to the left so the camera can see more of those glossy pink lips.”

  She shifted, briefly shooting him a look, a private gaze.

  So much was unsaid in the way they stole glances at each other.

  Longing. Craving. Heat.

  My mind raced ahead.

  Would he take her after their photo session? Would his hands travel all over her lush body?

  I wrote Marco and Evangeline’s afternoon delight in my head.

  Perhaps my neighbors would tell stories later of how the lift was stuck for thirty minutes that afternoon, and it was sooo annoying to have a mechanical malfunction.

  Only I’d know what had really happened.

  I’d know why everyone in this high-rise had to take the stairs.

  The second they left my home studio and entered the elevator down the hall, Marco would become insatiable, his palm slamming against the stop button. He’d yank up her skirt and thrust inside her, her wrists pinned above her head. She’d need no coaxing. She’d be ready for him, head thrown back, lips parted, taking it hard and loving it.

  Or perhaps the legend of their passion would be written in the parking garage. Maybe he’d pounce on her in the front seat before they turned on the engine, and those coming home early from work would do a double take.

  Did you see them? That couple heating up the windows in the black Audi? She rode him like he was her stallion.

  Or maybe they’d play denial games on the drive back to their home.

  Evangeline would want to touch herself, and Marco would issue orders in a deep, rumbling voice, one hand on the steering wheel, one on her bare thigh.

  Don’t touch yourself till I say so.

  Show me your panties.

  Now show me yourself.

  I bet she’d loved being told what to do.

  Bet she craved it like air.

  He’d make her squirm till they returned home and he’d order her to get down on all fours and then he’d take her to the edge of pleasure.

  I clenched my thighs at the wild thoughts racing through my head as my camera captured their suggestive poses, their heated expressions, the sensual record of the moments before the camera stopped clicking.

  Before.

  That was what my lens recorded. The build, the slow burn, the seconds that ticked till these lovers lunged at each other.

  Sensual boudoir photography was my jam.

  It was the best job ever.

  And also the worst.

  Because of days like this. When my mind zigged and zagged with images.

  But I was a professional, and I had to keep my own wild meanderings at bay and finish the job.

  I zoomed in on their faces, then I stepped back, grabbing a series of full-body shots as the couple shifted, sitting up, her legs wrapped around his ass, their arms curled around each other. Two people who couldn’t get enough of each other.

  “Gorgeous,” I said, murmuring my approval. “Now, Evangeline, I want you to look at Marco like you’re going to rip off all his clothes.”

  She laughed, shooting me a playful glance. “But I’ve already stripped him down to his boxers.”

  I smiled knowingly from behind the camera. “Then you’re not done. Look at him like you’re going to tug those boxers off and have a field day with him.”

  “Field day,” he whispered to her in a voice tinged with lust. “That’s what we’ll have when we’re done.”

  Just as I predicted.

  Then the pair of them laughed, and I caught that too, because that’s what they’d asked for when they ordered this photoshoot—to record their love, their passion, and their trust in each other. They wanted it all for posterity—when they longed for each other and when they laughed with each other too. They seemed to share their vulnerability and tenderness so easily in a stranger’s bedroom. How did they do that? How did they let go?

  “Just behave while you’re in here,” I teased. “But, Marco, I need one thing from you.”

  “Name it,” the man said.

  “Run your hands through her hair,” I told him.

  A groan rumbled up his chest so loud I could hear it. His fingers roped through her honey-brown strands, and I snapped that shot, capturing provocative moment after provocative moment, even as my mind ran away again.

  I wanted that. Wanted it for me, and wanted it for my damn job. If only so I could get these images out of my head while I worked.

  Surely my overactive, overheated imagination helped my job of capturing sensuality. But I didn’t need dirty images bearing down in the studio. And the images showed no signs of abating as I pictured his hands tightening around her glossy locks later, tugging, pulling, yanking.

  Did he make her scream?

  Moan?

  Or simply melt?

  All of the above, I decided as they cast hot stares at each other. The longing in her eyes was visceral, a palpable force in the room. In his irises, I saw intense devotion and filthy desire. This was when I stopped directing them, letting their natural instincts take over. She pressed her body closer to her man, sealing herself to him like she was riding him.

  “I want something that captures us in the throes of passion,” she said, her voice smoky, like she could barely hold back as she looked at me. “Nina, do I look like a woman about to be devoured?”

  I answered her with complete honesty. “Yes.”

  A small smile seemed to tease at her lips. “Best feeling ever, isn’t it?” She winked, like we were soul sisters on this front.

  I answered her with a total lie. “Of course.”

  Inside, I replied truthfully, privately, saying, I wouldn’t know.

  I’ve never had what she’s having.

  Evangeline pulled on a robe as Marco excused himself to the restroom to dress.

  It was funny to see his modesty after I’d already witnessed him so exposed—though not physically. I never captured full nudes of men. Only women, and only if they requested.

  But I was grateful he was gone for a few minutes, because I found it easier to show women the images on the back of the camera without their lovers by their side. She could look at them through her own eyes, not his.

  And women saw their bodies differently than men did.

  Mostly women saw the emotions in the photos, not simply the beautiful bodies. That was what I always tried to convey in both the solo shoots of women and the couple shoots—the emotions.

  Evangeline couldn’t contain a wildly pleased grin as she stared at the window on my camera.

  “You’re very good,” she said, cooing at the shots, almost tracing her finger against the screen. “I’ve never seen us look this way before. Our faces caught in these moments . . . moments of passion.”

  I smiled. That’s what I loved most about my job—when my clients were comfortable enough to relax and let go, to reveal to the camera what was so rarely seen in front of others.

  But I wasn’t going to take credit for their desire.

  “The two of you make it easy,” I said, deflecting the attention to the client, where it belonged. “You’re obviously so deeply in love.”

  I expected her to murmur a quiet thank you or to simply agree, giving me a yes, we are.

  But her answer took me by surprise as she looked away from the camera and met my gaze. “It’s not easy. It took me a long time to get to this place.”

  I tilted my head, curious. “What do you mean?”

  Her brown eyes were rich with secret knowledge, insight into the ways of sensuality. “To ask for what I wanted.”

  “You weren’t able to before?” I was eager to understand what she meant. I wanted to know how to ask for that. I wanted to have that.

  “No. I was terrible with communication in my early twenties. I was unsure of my own desires. I didn’t know what I needed in bed, and in love, and in life. And then I learned how to speak about my desires.”

  “How?” The word hung in the air, a desperate plea. “Wh
at did it for you?”

  She moved in closer, like she was about to impart the kind of secret passed down through generations, protected by a secret society. “Aphrodite. She changed my life.”

  “The ancient Greek goddess? Have you been visiting Mount Olympus?” I asked with a light laugh.

  She answered with a chuckle, but shook her head. “Please. You don’t have to go beyond these four walls to visit with her. And she is a modern-day goddess. A goddess of sensuality. I’ll introduce you to her.”

  I blinked, trying to figure out if my client was talking in code or truly believed she could speak with mythological figures. But I was intrigued enough to keep going. “How would I find Aphrodite?”

  “Do you have a smartphone?”

  I laughed and couldn’t resist rolling my eyes. “No,” I teased as I reached for the mobile device in my jeans pocket. “Of course I do.”

  “And do you have a podcast app?” Evangeline asked, and the puzzle pieces started to slide into place. She wasn’t in touch with ancient Greek gods and goddesses, but rather the world of podcasts. I was down with that.