Page 49 of Forbidden Heroes

He walks me through the door of his home—a modern two-story perched on the side of a beautiful mountain overlooking a deep valley. It’s nighttime but the full moon just beyond the expansive windows spanning the length of the entire wall highlight pines and oaks and a hint of a river below.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, trying to take it all in like a fresh drink of water after a long hike through a desert. After living in my one bedroom with a barely-there kitchen for the past three-plus years, you tend to marvel at and appreciate real leather and marble.

“Thank you.” Gideon steps up behind me and rests his hands on my bare shoulders. “Make yourself at home, sweetness, I’ll be right back.”

Soft lights dot the large living room area with a huge marble table on the opposite side of the open layout. Everything is either black or white. Cold.

Color comes in the form of low embers glowing in the hearth, and I walk over to stoke the fire, when I catch a row of pictures along the mantle in various styles of frames. Several are square and others round, some made of silver and others porcelain.

I pick a black wooden framed picture and trace my fingers over the glass. From the looks of it, Gideon is in some part of Africa from the massive stalk-like Baobab trees in the background. The sun is setting and throws a bright orange glow across the expansive sky. It’s beautiful. Among him are several young children smiling and all pushing to get in the picture.

I take another, this one of a man who carries a striking resemblance to the man who just swept me out of a sex club after making me come in public.

“My father,” Gideon confirms as he strolls into the living room in a fresh shirt and slacks. The cuffs neatly fastened, I notice.

He’s beside me, looking over my shoulder.

“Tell me about him.”

He takes my hand and leads me to a black leather sofa a few feet from the fire and pulls me to sit on his lap. I fall into his embrace willingly and lean into his broad chest, resting my weight on him. I shimmy a little to get comfortable and love the way I can feel his cock growing hard beneath my ass.

“Professor,” I tease leaning in to rub my nose against his. “Already?”

“I could fuck you morning, noon, and night and still want dessert and treats in between. Don’t think I’ve had my fill.”

He pulls me in and takes my mouth in a kiss, growling against my lips. Hard then soft.

I moan into his mouth, lost in his taste the second his tongue strokes over mine. His powerful hands are on my hips, skimming over my bare thighs as my skirt rides high, higher. He teases my skin, brushing the pads of his fingers lightly over my inner thigh then back to sink into the flesh of my ass.

“I see you lost your panties somewhere tonight.”

“I did. Good thing too. There was this very persuasive professor I ran into tonight,” I tease.

“What a devil.” He growls against my neck before nipping the soft flesh of my earlobe.

I suck back a shocked breath. “You’re telling me,” I groan back, letting my eyes fall closed as his lips seek out the tender flesh of my neck. The outfit I’m wearing has officially become my favorite.

I spread my thighs for him on his silent command and feel myself falling to the couch as he moves me beneath him. His weight pins me to the soft leather and I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him into me with my heels.

I run my tongue up his neck and press my lips over his throbbing pulse. “Take your clothes off, Gideon. I want to feel your body against mine when you take me this time. Please,” I beg, running my fingers through his hair, over his covered chest and back, wanting to feel his hard muscles under my fingers instead of cloth.

He pulls back, towering above me, and I ignore the buzz in my body from the adrenaline rush jacking my blood and focus on the tight look on his face.

He pulls away and I unlock my legs, reaching for his hand. “What? What did I say? Please don’t pull away.”

He takes my hand and raises it to his mouth but doesn’t press his lips to my knuckles like I’m expecting. I look on as he turns it over and lavishes my palm with a soft, warm kiss. “You are an angel and have done nothing wrong. The problem is me.”

“What is it? What’s wrong? You know you can talk to me.”

He dips his head, chin against his chest. Every inch of my skin is on fire from the feel of his hands on me, and I’m torn between letting him know whatever the problem is I can handle it and just being content sitting in silence for as long as he needs.

I don’t have to wait long. He relinquishes his hold over my hand and stands. There’s a bar off to the right of the fireplace, and he takes a bottle of what looks like whiskey and pours himself a glass.

With his back turned, he begins to speak. Maybe he thinks if he doesn’t have to look at me I won’t be as hurt, but nothing can shield me from the pain in his words.

“My father was a man who didn’t know the meaning of no. He took what he wanted and didn’t care for the consequences. Once he had what he craved it was never enough. He always wanted more. He wasn’t content with his shipping company. He wanted bigger, better.”

I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he takes a healthy swallow.

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