Page 69 of Forbidden Heroes

Bourbon in one hand, I settle back into the shadows and wait to start our little game. She dances, I watch, and in the morning we both pretend it never happened. I swirl the liquid and take in the sweet smell, wishing it was her scent filling my senses.

Strobe lights work the crowd, turning smooth curves of round hips and bouncing tits into gyrating lines of jerky movement that are starting to hurt my eyes.

I turn the untouched drink in front of me round and round, causing the amber liquid to whirl within its glass confines as I wait for the reason I’m here instead of back in my office going over paperwork as I should be.

Eight months ago, I was sitting in the middle of a combat zone waiting for my tour to end and now that I have my papers and freedom from Uncle Sam I’m right back where I started in a sense. No control over my destiny and it’s pissing me off.

I wanted away from all the noise that the military life offered and something that could give me a bit of quiet. Becoming a bearded mountain man didn’t sound half bad and sat at the top of my list until an old military buddy heard of my retirement. A fifteen-minute phone call and I had a new job that moved my rustic cabin idea to the back burner.

It wasn’t hard to land the job with my skill set and connections. To be honest, a decade of flying bullets, turmoil and endless reports was enough for me and why this job appealed. Don’t get me wrong—I love my country, my dress blues, and commanding the men under me as a Marine Corp Captain, but there comes a time in a man’s life when something else, something more, is needed. Or, at least that’s true in my case and I have the scars to prove it was only a matter of time before I had my time card punched for good. Before that can happen, I decided to stop pushing my luck and try out the other side of life that doesn’t involve a gun in my hand.

I shift my attention away from the stage. A few students I recognize and some I don’t hug the rim of the raised platform, throwing away their parent’s money. Others are dotted amongst faces I don’t recognize enjoying a night out with friends. To avoid awkward eye contact, I stick to the shadows and keep my head down for the most part.

The night I stepped into Insomnia for the first time I was fresh out of uniform and helping a buddy celebrate his engagement and my new job. That’s when I saw her.

At the time I had no idea Amber was forbidden fruit I shouldn’t want. But everything from her pink-tipped toes to the top of her head screamed back off. Hell, it’s wrong for me to be here now waiting for her to come on stage.

Five-three of delicious sun-kissed, dick-teasing perfection with the most gorgeous legs and beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I tighten my fist around my glass thinking about how her dark hair spills down her back to tease the tops of her ass. All those luscious locks make me want to run my hands through it as she moans my name. I’ve traveled the world over and have yet to see a woman with such beautiful amber eyes which fit her name to a T.

That first night I wanted to rip off her little cat woman leather getup and taste her sweet, creamy skin with my tongue right there on stage and in front of everyone like the sugar she is. The heated looks and breathy kisses she shot my way that first night didn’t help the beast inside me cool its jets any.

It’s safe to say that night everything clicked like I found some missing part of myself. A fire flamed inside me straight from the fire pits of hell, coming for the sinner in me, and I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble because in the span of about four seconds I realized she was the something I had no idea I was in search of.

Then I found out she was off-limits.

That first morning I walked into the lecture hall to cover for a friend, I nearly fell over. There the little sex kitten sat in the back row wearing white frills and a short skirt like some vision of angelic innocence and determination. The complete opposite of what I witnessed the night before.

When my eyes landed on hers, I knew she recognized me from the little O her mouth formed.

As the class progressed, I got to see the brains behind the beauty and if I hadn’t already fallen for her, I would have right in the middle of my class.

Sexy as hell. I mean, she’s what? Twenty? I’ve used my privilege as the Dean of Blackthorne to dig into her files and it held interesting facts like her age and birthdate, but that’s about it on the useful front. Her as a person…I know more about her by watching her sashay her delicious body over a brass pole five nights a week than I do from reading her file, which has more blanks than information. And after hearing her deliver oral reports and turn in papers that most students her age couldn’t pull off, she’s become the forbidden fruit I want to devour like I’m the Devil himself.

I’ve never paid for the pleasure of a woman but if she came with a price tag, there’s no doubt I would have no problem cutting a check right now to have her at my side. Thanks to the trust fund my grandfather set in place before I could walk, money is no issue. A little-known fact about me. But she’s not for sale, and I can’t pass the line that’s between us.

I wish my dick would get the memo. Fucking wrong as it is, I want to mark and claim her in every way possible. It’s almost primal. Hell, it is primal.

It is constant like the pounding of waves against a sandy beach and for the first time in my life I don’t know what to do about the sweet temptation I want to feel slide down every inch of my hard, throbbing cock.

I’m like some addict hooked on the vision of her juicy lips and rosy-tipped breasts. Not touching her is the biggest test of my inner strength and self-control. Somehow I’ve clawed my way back from that edge no matter how much she tempts me with her provocative dances. There’s not a doubt in my mind that little slice of forbidden fruit swings around that pole performing for me, and I’m starting to get antsy when she doesn’t come out.

But there are rules number one being: hands off.

Rule number two is pretty much a repeat of number one in case I slip up and start listening to the bad ideas that run through my head.

I’ve never acted possessive in my life over a woman. Sitting here night after night has me questioning my sanity routinely.

The noise of the beat-heavy techno helps drown out the bad ideas populating my head. More than once I’ve considered storming the stage and running off with my treasure like I’m some human version of King Kong guarding his princess. It doesn’t take a genius to know what that would bring around. Not only would news get back to the school and I lose my job, but I’d have to fight my way through a few bouncers flashing nasty scars like battle trophies. Putting my fist into someone’s face isn’t my version of fun anymore. Besides, scaring Amber would be counterproductive.

I watch yet another dancer glide across the stage in her platform heels but her perky tits and firecracker red lips do nothing for me as I wait for Amber.

I slide the glass of bourbon across the table untouched and take my leave. I round the corner and climb into my truck just as a late evening rain begins to pelt the back parking lot.

I knew when she stormed out of my office earlier something deeper than just her late tuition payment weighed on her mind. There were dark circles under her eyes and a haunted look in the depths.

Seeing that cut and bruise on her cheek fuels my need to check in on her.

I swing around and point my truck in the direction of her apartment. A part of me, the dark side I buried deep on my last op roars back to life going over tens of scenarios that could have happened. What my imagination comes up with has my fingers tightening around the wheel of my truck like I want to squeeze the life out of it. If some prick boyfriend has laid a hand on her, I’ll kill them and happily go to prison for it. I thought I was stronger than this. In more control, but when it comes to Amber McBride I have no concept of the word apparently.

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