Page 142 of Protective Heroes

Red Hot Christmas Virgin

One

The root of his problem wasn’t the fact it was Christmas Eve and he was alone. No, his problem was five foot five inches of red-hot, delicious curvy hips, sun-kissed skin and pouty pink lips he couldn’t wait to feel wrapped around his thick cock.

But before he could have the woman in question, or any part of his body touching hers, he’d have to catch her. And therein lay the problem.

Nathan Grant stood with his arms crossed, shoulder propped up against the wall as he considered the white piece of paper in his hands and his options, limited as they were. He could fight or roll over and give in.

Giving in wasn’t in his nature as a captain in the U.S. Marine Corps, and anybody who knew him would laugh at the thought of him walking away without a fight.

That left one alternative and the idea of what it meant brought a huge fucking grin to his face. He didn’t mind a bit of a challenge.

He glanced over at the mahogany desk pushed back against the far wall and zeroed in on a white sheet of paper with his family’s business logo across the top. He’d tossed it there fifteen minutes ago after finding it sticking out of a satchel he thought was his father’s. Turned out it had been hers and he’d made the mistake of reading it. Now he was forced to face the sad truth of his actions, or lack of, and do something about it.

In about three hundred words, give or take a few, the one person he never thought could betray him did so with a flourish of blue ink at the bottom of her resignation. Sweet revenge so pure it made his teeth hurt spiked his blood like a drug.

An unseen force drove him across the small space of his father’s office and he snatched up the offending piece of paper.

Willa—with the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard, the curviest ass he’d ever seen, dreamed of touching, licking…fucking, and the one he couldn’t lay a hand on—Cruz.

For the last three years that name alone chased away the nightmares. Carried him through some of the darkest times of his damn life. And now she wanted to walk—and on Christmas Eve? Now that he was home for good she thought leaving was an option? How could she do this? How could she resign from a company, a family, that treated her as their own? How could she just turn her back on him when he needed her most?

Whether she knew it or not his sweet addiction to the woman was etched so deeply in his mind, his thoughts were never really his own. He could be halfway across the world and still recall the way her eyes lit up when he came home on leave.

It was time he did something about it. This wasn’t about lust or the need to be so deep inside her she would never crave another man. This was about taking what was his, claiming every single inch of her body and marking her as his until she understood what she meant to him. As fucked up as that sounded it was the truth.

Those sultry green eyes, long auburn hair, and the perkiest sweet ass that begged for him to lick and kiss it—and God help him, fuck—until they both couldn’t stand had teased him long enough. Every time she strutted that tight young body in front of him they were both in danger of him losing his control.

But she was also off limits because of a promise his best friend had forced from him. His friend didn’t want his sister to end up like their mother. Widowed and raising her children alone. Their father killed in action when they were toddlers.

He crumpled the letter and tossed it across the room. It had been eight months, fourteen hours and a handful of minutes since he’d last seen her and he could still feel the press of her tight body against his as she hugged him goodbye and the smell of her shampoo, perfume whatever the fuck it was that had his dick hard and balls aching for the last thirty-two miserable weeks.

Light honey with a scent of jasmine. Soft and strong all in one, just like the woman who wore it.

Flames of anger roared to life inside him and he gritted his teeth.

He’d stayed away, walked when he should have made the woman his all because of a promise that kept Willa beyond his reach. She was his best friend’s sister and that made her off limits.

But Adrian was dead now.

Gone.

Now he couldn’t ask his advice or hash out their differences over a cold one.

He also couldn’t piss him off for taking his sister when he’d been warned against it.

An iron fist tightened deep in Nathan’s chest. Best friend or not, the whole situation pissed him off. Adrian had no right to lock him in on a promise that would slowly drive him fucking mad. Before he could do something about it, Adrian had been killed during a takedown on a known terrorist cell their unit had been assigned to eliminate.

Nathan raked both hands through his hair and growled out his frustration. He felt more dangerous than usual, and that was due to the need that had been building.

And had no outlet.

He threw open the front door of the office where Willa had worked with his family for the past three years. Sirens off in the distance caught his attention followed by a blast of horns. City life grated on his nerves and the solitude of his cabin outside the city called to him. It would be snowing and quiet, maybe then he could get his head wrapped around this whole shit-storm and plan.

The death of his father had brought him home and now he had some hard decisions to make.

Ones that had him walking away from Willa once and for all.

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