Page 67 of Forbidden Heroes

Still a little shell-shocked by the events in my day, I give in and follow his lead. It’s not my normal method of operation, but I kind of like him taking over. It allows me to get a handle on my thoughts and wrap some kind of control around my reaction to being so close to him.

I clasp my hands in my lap after placing my purse on the chair behind me. Anything to keep my eyes from roaming all over his body.

“Ms. McBride, you seem a little out of sorts. Why? How can I help?”

An inner battle erupts in my head. Spill the beans or soldier on like I always do. Unsure under the weight of his stare I shrug because it’s truest answer I have ready. “I came here to see the board on an extension. Unless you can help me with that, there’s not much you can do, Dean Spencer.”

He swivels in the chair to face me, taking my smaller hand in his larger one. Warm, gentle and kind. I don’t feel so alone in this cold world when his palm glances over mine, and I’m bottling those rare feelings like precious elements because I don’t know when I’ll ever experience them again.

My silver lining: he’s finally touching me.

Maddox gauges my expression. “You can trust me, Amber.”

Hearing my given name on his lips for the first time warms me to the core. I mean, I’ve stripped for him and bared my body, but a name holds power and to have him say it out loud makes my body tremble.

“Maddox,” I whisper, unsure of what is happening. I mean, I know, but I don’t. Nothing has ever been personal between us. The uncertainty of him touching me, of the excitement I feel and the guilt runs wild through me and of the guilt of wanting more and knowing I shouldn’t.

The full force of his attention in a lot to bear, and I’m not totally sure I can handle the intense look in his eyes. Fierce, hungry and protective.

My gaze drops to our connected hands then back up to find him looking at me.

“I don’t think you can help with this. It’s really not up to you, but the board,” I say quietly. “But thank you.”

Maddox cups my chin a moment before running the back of his fingers over my cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Spontaneous craziness takes over and guides my other hand to settle over his.

“Maddox, how about—oh, excuse me.”

Jolted out of the moment, both Maddox and I drop our hands at the sound of his name coming from the door.

Mortified, I turn, eyes wide. Oh crap. This is bad.

Professor Michaels, my law teacher, with her too-tight bun, red stilettos, and a razor-sharp eye draws up short, her hand clenched around the handle of the door.

Just great. With how her eyes have turned a heavy mixture of ice and fury, albeit banked, she is no doubt surprised to find me practically sitting on the dean’s lap with heated cheeks and puckered nipples.

She’s the silent, strong type and I’m hoping one who doesn’t like to stir up conflict. Her gaze travels over the spot where my knee brushes the dean’s and her lips purse together when she spots the way he’s turned his massive body toward me. I might as well be riding him reverse cowgirl from the way her spine stiffens.

Clearly aware she caught him touching me, her gaze doesn’t linger long. Nor does her instant smile at finding me with her intended weekend entertainment.

With an arched brow and grim expression, her attention hones in on my bright shade of lipstick next and then my boobs. More specifically my nipples, which wanted in on the action they picked up coming from Maddox a moment ago and haven’t received the memo to stand down. I tighten the sides of my jacket around me and tuck my head.

Well hello, kettle and pot. It’s not like the professor isn’t sporting a fiery red shade of lipstick of her own. I might be a virgin but that doesn’t mean jack when it comes to reading signs. That is one talent I have in spades.

“I didn’t realize you were busy, Dean Spencer. I thought everyone had left already and we were alone,” she says flatly if not with a sharp edge.

“Professor Michaels, how can I help you?”

The dean doesn’t sound too happy at the interruption but I can help but wonder if these two were dating from the deeply grim look on the professor’s perfectly made-up face.

One, how embarrassing to be found holding his hand and two, if they weren’t dating at least one of them seems to think the idea is a good one which is just as bad. A scorned woman is a dangerous one and I can’t afford to have enemies.

Professor Michaels sighs the most disappointed sigh that I almost feel sorry for her. Clearly, she had plans on how she wanted to spend her Saturday and the dean was at the top of that list.

I shove down the ugly green head of jealousy snarling in my mind and instead, shove to my feet, grabbing my purse.

“Sorry,” I answer trying not to let my own disappointment show. “I’m on my way out anyway.” I turn my head, “Thanks for trying to help, Dean. Spencer.”

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