Page 79 of Forbidden Heroes

He pulls out a small bottle of some kind of cream that smells like mint and a mix of other soothing ingredients that smell familiar.

“How ’bout I pay tuition? Problem solved and you can repay me by keeping your nose in the books and your perfect ass off the stage for good.”

What was that? My jaw hinges open stunned, but he carries on like he offers to help everyone pay their bills.

“This should help with the bruising and make it go down a little faster.”

“Really? And you know this because you’ve had a handsy bookie backhand you?” I let the idle chitchat take over on autopilot as I absorb his offer.

Thankfully he doesn’t push the offer and lets it slide. Good, because right now I don’t know how to answer it one way or the other.

“Not quite. I managed to get banged up a few times in my military days. My brother too and my father before us. My grandmother got tired of seeing all the bruises and made this concoction that works better than anything I’ve bought from the pharmacy.”

“Do you have a big family?”

He nods. Hmm. A man of so many words.

The plain truth of it is my face doesn’t really hurt unless I smiled a bit too hard, but there’s no use in spoiling the moment. His strong hands on me feel too good and I’m not about to throw on the brakes.

And he left it at that, applying the cream with gentle strokes with one hand, the other resting on my bare knee protectively. No, it’s not the way he’s resting his hand but how he’s cocooned me between him and the wall at my back. His massive shoulders block out the view of the living room. I’d be lying if I said his bulky size didn’t turn me on. He’s like a protective wall. A shield…my shield.

I think on that for a minute. I’ve never had anyone care for me so tenderly. Not my mom or my dad. Maybe the nurse back in third grade when I fell and skinned my knees and palms. That is not even in the same realm as this, though.

I shiver when he turns my head to the side and inspects his work with a light touch. “I’ll apply more in the morning after breakfast. You’ll sleep in my room and I’ll take the couch.”

My eyes widen. All that space for me? No Maddox to share it with? “I didn’t realize there was only one bed. You know we can share,” I state coolly.

He holds a hand up with a frown. “No arguing. I’ll take the couch.”

Completely puzzled by his hot and cold spurts I’m starting to get irritated. “What are you afraid of? Look, let’s not pretend I’m the innocent little student you think had some white picket fence childhood. I’m not some fragile doll you need to protect.”

“Your face says otherwise. What kind of man hits a woman anyway? I hope you nailed him in the balls for his efforts.”

“Not exactly, I’m not as brave you think,” I answer. I push to my feet, needing air that isn’t saturated with his consuming scent. It clogs up the gears and I’m having a hard time thinking straight. I pace the small area between the stove and table.

I feel his gaze on me tracking my movements. And the way his shirt rides high on my thigh.

He moves in, not touching me but close all the same. “Where the hell are the pants I told you to put on, anyway?”

He crosses the room, putting away the first-aid kit.

“They kept falling off.”

He hisses something inaudible, but I pick up on the tone all the same.

I spot my phone where I left it on the counter when we first arrived and pick it up. I clear my throat uneasily. “Look, I appreciate your kindness, but I don’t think this is going to work out. I seem to be putting you on edge, and you shouldn’t feel that way in your own home. I have a friend that might be able to put me up for a night or two.”

I turn to walk out of the kitchen and find my clothes, wet or not, and get the hell out of here. What was I thinking? I may have thought I could handle a man like Maddox, but I was wrong. Plus there’s no way I want to stay in a house where the tension is so thick I can’t breathe.

Unshed tears burn the rims of my eyes. Stupid heart for letting myself care for someone. Gah. I flick the screen on and pull up Rosalee’s number.

“Like hell you are. No fucking way I'm letting you go stay at some frat boy’s house.” He turns me around, his nostrils flaring like a raging bull. “I never said you were not welcome here, so don’t even try that angle, sweetheart.”

His arms are around me and my face pressed into his chest as he hugs me tight. Just human to human contact feels so nice. It's strange and oddly so right. For a moment we are not the Dean of Blackthorne and a down-and-out stripper/college student about to lose my future.

We’re simply Maddox and Amber caught up in the moment of a real connection, and the magic is as tangible as the man holding me like I’m a treasure.

And then it's gone. I peer up at him and see something shift behind those thick, black lashes, and he's the untouchable dean and I guess that makes me the off-limits girl again.

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