Page 68 of Forbidden Heroes

He tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to decode my words and then the most suspicious look comes over him before he features tighten with what is seemingly disapproval. I can’t really tell with him.

Being here isn’t solving any of my problems, but it sure the hell is creating more. I take my leave and don’t look back, hitting the parking lot in a mad dash.

Getting caught with my hands on the dean doesn’t shine a great light on me. One thing is for sure, I won’t have to worry about my tuition anymore if Professor Michaels decides she wants to press the matter. If that happens, I’ll be kicked out and there’s nothing he nor I can do about it.

It’s starting to rain as I make my way back to my apartment. At this hour the local goons are sleeping and my landlord is across town taking care of his other unfortunate tenants in another building. I have just enough time to catch a nap, shower and get ready for work. If I’m lucky I can grab a double shift and pull in some heavy tips.

I pull up outside my apartment building to find a familiar suitcase sitting at the bottom of the stairs.

Every muscle in my body tenses and I white-knuckle the steering wheel.

No way I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. “What the…you gotta be kidding! No…no…NOOOOO!”

I slam on the brakes and fling the driver’s door open and hit the pavement running the second I shove the car into park. I don’t even bother killing the engine. All my things are sitting outside for an grabby-handed passer-by to snatch. To drive the knife deeper everything is getting soaked.

With little finesse, I shove a couple of soaked boxes, my pathetic suitcase and my college books in the back of my car, the rain masking my tears.

For a second I just stand there letting the rain pour over me as I contemplate my options, welcoming the cold rivets of water soaking me to the bone.

Call my friend Rosalee who is in the same predicament, bunk up with her? But I wouldn’t even be able to contribute to rent right now. Or food.

Which is absolutely pathetic. But none of that matters right now. She’s dealing with her own issues which involve her handsome psych professor. Long story there, but two is company and three is a crowd in that scenario.

In a panic my landlord or someone worse is lurking in the nearby bushes, I skitter back into the car, locking my doors. As chaotic thoughts and emotions bombard me a ping sounds off from my phone and I jump.

I grab the damn thing and flick it on. “Please let it be something good.”

“Paycheck will be late, expect a week from Monday.”

Son of a bitch!

Desperation has me biting at my nails. “What brilliant plan do you have now, Amber?”

There’s no way this night can get any worse.

Three

Maddox

Sugar.

That’s what they call her, and aptly so, but I know her real name. Amber McBride.

Smart. Stunning. Young and ambitious.

All good traits that have my dick hard since day one of seeing her in the back row, fourth brunette from the left and the prettiest of them all with her honey-colored eyes.

Hell, way too damn young for a man of my age. She’s too good for the likes of me and what I’ve seen and done in this lifetime. It doesn’t matter if I did it for land and country. The stain on my soul is permanent and she deserves better. I knew it when I spotted her that first time as much as I know it now.

Sweet to watch with a body made to tease a man. A body made for me and me alone. I can’t touch, but I crave a taste of her sweetness all the same. I’ve seen every part of her luscious curves except the beautiful pussy she keeps hidden behind glitter G-strings.

Women come and go for a man like me who is never home to tend to their needs. Up until now I was always off on one mission or another with the occasional fuck buddy when I returned stateside. Believe it or not, a man can only take so much meaningless sex. That’s why I’m surprised by my reaction to such a sweet, tender thing like Amber.

She’s nowhere near the settling down age, but the second her eyes found mine something in me snapped into place. Like a thousand-piece puzzle when the final piece falls into its jagged slots and you get the full, beautiful picture. I don’t know if that makes me complicated or broken.

Maybe both.

But it doesn’t take away the fact the woman I can’t have yet teases me from school to the stage has me toeing the razor-thin edge of my control daily and completes something inside me no other woman has come close to touching.

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