Page 77 of Forbidden Heroes

“Silly,” I murmur. But still…

There’s a thick, black comforter folded back to reveal snow-white sheets. The crispness is inviting and part of me wants to climb in and snuggle.

To my right is a tall set of drawers with several bottles of cologne arranged across the top in a silver tray. I take a minute to smell them one by one.

Each is as luxurious as the last and so much Maddox. Strong, but not overbearing. Heady and lust-inducing. Or maybe I’m just hypersensitive after that soul-searing kiss he gave me. I’ve never been kissed with so much need from a man that I can still feel the humming through every cell of my body. If I wasn’t already determined to push aside all the pesky ‘rules’ he wants to keep like a wall between us, that kiss would have shoved me over the line for good.

It’s been a long night and it’s barely after midnight. My stomach rumbles, so I make quick work of finding a shirt and pulling it on. The ends brush to mid-thigh with the words US MARINES across my breasts. It’s old, worn and perfect. He’s brought my purse and small satchel in from the truck, so I dig out a clean pair of panties and pull them on.

I go for the sweats but they are too big and I don’t want to give the rule of three plaguing me an easy target. Tripping over a pair of pants around my ankles is not the way I want to go when I leave this earth.

I make my way back downstairs and patter barefoot to the kitchen to find his back turned to me and his wet shirt draped over a kitchen chair.

Until that moment I thought he was bare of any tattoos but I was wrong. So very very wrong. Maddox Spencer is not the strait-laced never-break-a-stigma type as everyone thinks, I muse. Or at least I do.

Over the wide expanse of his sculpted back is a huge eagle with unfurled wings spread from one side to the other, showing a fierce look in the eyes of the beast. From his days in the military, no doubt.

It’s stunning and I can’t help but stare.

That hovering need to climax tingles deep inside my core, letting me know it’s there. I bite my lip to keep from groaning out loud.

Sexy as hell.

I wonder what it would be like to trace every line and feel his muscle bunch and roll under my touch?

When I enter the kitchen, he’s leaning over the stove concentrating so hard he doesn’t hear me approach until I’m right beside him.

“Mmm…it smells divine,” I say more in greeting than anything else to kind of break the ice again between us after he stormed out of the bathroom like a man on fire.

He turns with a tight smile we both know is forced. A stab of annoyance runs through me when he nails me with a pinched look, but it doesn’t last long. I swing my hair over my shoulder and the fire in his eyes brightens when that small movement draws his attention to what I’m wearing.

First his gaze rakes over my legs and then up until he sees the hard tips of my nipples poking against the confines of his shirt. One thing my satchel didn’t contain was a fresh bra, and Maddox just figured that out.

He ignores my greeting altogether. “What are you wearing?”

I thought it obvious. “Uh… your shirt,” I answer dryly, not liking his tone or the way the heat of his visual examination has me shifting my weight from one foot to the other like I’ve been a bad girl. “We left all my clothes in my car, remember?” I keep my tone cool, even.

“I see that but,” he growls, waving a sauce-dipped wooden spatula in my direction. “I mean that.”

His eyes are on my bare legs and my nipples are hard to miss.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked, professor.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your professor.”

“Oookaaayyy, Dean Spencer,” I draw out. “Doesn’t make much difference, right? It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked,” I repeat. “…licked my pussy juices off your fingers or made me orgasm so hard I saw stars in the middle of the school parking lot. Sorry, but I didn’t think wearing a T-shirt in front of you would make much difference.”

He turns back around but I can see the tension in his neck and tell he’s gritting his teeth from my choice of words. I didn’t mean to push the man, or at least not tonight but it seems it doesn’t matter what I do the same result happens so I might as well stick to the truth.

“Look,” I begin, really not sure what to say to make him drop his guard even a fraction. I thought I was having a rough night, but it didn’t look like he faired any better.

Maddox’s jaw twitched and up came the spatula again. This time to point toward a table in the corner. “Just have a seat, Amber.”

I pull out a chair closest to the window. Beyond the large glass is probably a million-dollar view that’s stunning during daylight hours, but at this hour its pitch-black outside with only a few beams of moonshine breaking through the clouds.

It doesn’t matter. All my attention is on the man and his low-slung jeans dropped over powerful hips. So he does own a pair. And they are a dream.

He turns with two plates in hand, and I have to swallow to keep my jaw from hitting my chest. The top button is popped open and his pants ride just low enough to highlight those crazy sexy dips that lead into a V on either side of his hips. You know the ones I’m talking about that make a woman lose track of her own thoughts. Yep. Those. So I might not have a wealth of experience in the bedroom department, but I know sexy, and this man is every definition of the word.

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