The Virgin's Guardian

I did as he suggested, but I stopped short of actually sending the message. He’d calmed some of my fears by making the offer, and I didn’t want to answer all the questions Carrie would have for me if she knew I’d left with a guy. Peering more closely at his ID, I noticed the date of birth. He wasn’t just a guy; he was a thirty-seven-year-old man.

“Harrison Brooks, huh?” I asked once we were both settled in the car, and he was pulling away from the curb. “The name fits the car.”

“You think so? I guess I’ll take that as a compliment since I’m more than fond of my Vanquish.” He quirked a dark eyebrow at me. “What about your name? Does it fit all the beauty that’s you?”

“Pardon me?”

His husky laughter filled the car, but it felt nice. Not like he was making fun of me. “Your name, honey.”

“Felicity.”

“Felicity,” he repeated, and my name had never sounded so good. “Perfect.”

“Thanks,” I whispered softly, my cheeks filling with heat.

“Which way am I headed?”

“Umm, hold on,” I stammered. I didn’t have my driver’s license and wasn’t familiar with the route Carrie had taken. As I was pulling my phone back out to pull up directions, my stomach growled. Loudly.

“Hitting the bar when you haven’t eaten is never a good idea.” He slowed the car and shot me another look. “Neither is leaving by yourself. You need to be more careful.”

“I don’t usually go to bars.” The last thing I wanted to admit to him was how old I really was, so I didn’t bother mentioning the reason. “And I did eat dinner, just not a lot of it.”

His gaze swept downwards, lingering on my bare thighs below the short hemline of my dress. “It better not be because you’re on a diet. You don’t need it.”

“Not a diet. Just not my favorite dinner.” My foster mom made something I pretty much hated, so I’d barely eaten.

“Let me feed you before I drop you off.”

“No, really. That’s not necessary.” My stomach growled again, contradicting my words so I tried a different tactic. “You won’t be able to find a restaurant open this late at night, and I can’t picture you driving this car through a fast food drive-through.”

He changed directions, doing a quick U-turn. “Challenge accepted, honey. I can have a hot meal in front of you in less than fifteen minutes.”

Chapter 2

Felicity

He drove fast, but with enough confidence that I felt safe in the passenger seat. I was so focused on watching him drive, that I didn’t notice where he was taking me. Fifteen minutes later, I was surprised to see him pull into a gated drive.

“Where are we?” I asked as he pushed a button on the visor and the doors swung open to allow us through.

“My home.”

The two-story, sprawling, stone structure looked more like a small hotel than a house. “The home goes with the name and the car, too. But—”

He reached for my hand and swept his thumb back and forth across my palm. “There’s nothing to be scared about, Felicity. I’m not going to try anything except what I promised—a hot meal so I don’t spend the night wondering if you went to bed hungry.”

Being bounced around foster homes had made me a fairly good judge of people, and I found myself trusting him. So, I let him help me out of his car and lead me into his home. I tried not to gawk too much as I followed him towards the back of the house and into the kitchen. When he pulled out a stool at the island counter, I sat on it and stared at him as he yanked off his suit jacket and vest, rolling up his sleeves. He looked less imposing that way. Younger. A little more approachable. But no less hot than I’d thought him to be when I’d spotted him in the bar.

He twisted his wrist and checked his watch. “I only have about eight minutes left. Luckily for me, the chef was here this afternoon and stocked the fridge up for the week.”

I shouldn’t have been shocked by his casual mention of a chef, considering his house and car, but I was. Then he opened one of the doors on his stainless-steel refrigerator, and my jaw practically fell to the floor. It was jam packed with what seemed like an endless supply of clear containers filled with every food imaginable.

“Do you have any food allergies?”

“Nope.”

“What’s your favorite—chicken, steak, pork, or seafood?”

“Steak. Definitely steak.”

He pulled two containers out, popped the lids off, and placed them in the stainless-steel microwave. After setting the timer to six minutes, he rested his forearms against the counter while he faced me.

I wrinkled my nose. “Won’t nuking the steak ruin it?”

“Probably.” He reached out and ran a finger down my nose, smoothing out the skin. “But it has a convection oven setting, and that’s what I’m using.”

“Fancy,” I laughed.

“I like having the best.” He eyed me up and down, and I had a feeling he included me in that assessment. It made me feel like a fraud because there was no way he’d think that about me if he knew I was a seventeen-year-old foster kid. I took a deep breath to settle my nerves as he reached up to grab two wine glasses and set them on the counter. “Red okay with you?”

“Could I have a water or diet soda instead? I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Of course!” He flashed me a blinding smile. “If you’re not big on bars and don’t like to drink, what brought you out tonight?”

“My friend talked me into it.”

He set a tall glass filled with ice and a can of soda in front of me. “You didn’t look like you were having much fun with your friends.”

“They’re more her friends than mine,” I admitted softly. I tilted my head and offered him a small smile. “You were watching me closely enough to notice I wasn’t having a good time?”

“From the moment you walked in the door.”

“Wow.” It slipped out before I could stop it, and my cheeks filled with heat. I was saved by the chime of the timer and shook my head to try to clear it when he turned away to pull the containers out of the oven. I moaned when I took my first bite; the food tasted better than any other meal that I’d eaten before. “Double wow.”

“Told you I could do better than fast food.”

“Way better.”

He watched me while I ate, those dark eyes following each time my fork moved from my plate to my mouth. When I finished what he’d served me, he pushed his half-eaten plate my way.

“I couldn’t.”

“You can,” he insisted, taking my fork from my hand and feeding me himself.

“I’m stuffed,” I sighed after another ten bites and a gulp of my soda to wash it all down.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Even though I was full, I was tempted to say no because having him feed me was incredibly sexy. I’d turned down the wine and hadn’t had anything at the bar, but I still felt drunk. Which meant I had nothing to blame for what I did next except for the chemistry sizzling between us. Leaning forward, I craned my neck and kissed Harrison’s cheek. “Thank you for taking such good care of me tonight.”

The fork clattered when he dropped it on the plate. Then his strong hands gently cradled my cheeks as he returned my kiss with one of his own—only it wasn’t the soft peck I’d given him. He captured my lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with mine when I gasped in surprise.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he broke the kiss. “I shouldn’t be doing this. You’re so goddamn young.”

If only he knew exactly how young, he’d run in the opposite direction. I didn’t want that to happen, so I kept my mouth shut and let him assume I was at least old enough to get into

the bar legally. I had enough serious stuff barreling my way in the real world soon; I didn’t want anything to pop the bubble I was in with him in that moment.

So, I didn’t let it. Instead, I reached up and gripped his head to pull him down for another kiss. This time when he tore his mouth away from mine, it wasn’t to tell me why we shouldn’t be doing this. It was to lift me into his arms and carry me out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into a large bedroom. He tossed me onto my back and crashed down on top of me. His warm fingers crept up my thigh, traced over the side of my panties at my hip, and worked their way under the material of the dress that was bunched up around my waist.

“So fucking soft,” he murmured in my ear, licking around it and making me shudder.

I tugged on his shirt, determined to have the chance to touch him too. He let me drag it over his head, and I groaned when I saw all those ridges. I wanted to trace each and every one of them with my tongue. “Oh, my. You have abs for days.”

“And I bet your tits are absolutely perfect.” He shoved my dress even higher. I should have been embarrassed since nobody had ever seen my naked body except for me, but I was too turned on to be shy.

“Ohmigosh,” I moaned when he sucked a nipple into his mouth. I felt each tug of his lips deep in my core. My legs slid together restlessly, as I tried to ease the unfamiliar ache between them.

“Fuck, honey. I need more. I want your taste in my mouth.” His hands slid down to my thighs and squeezed. I parted them, my drenched panties the only thing between my drenched pussy and his hungry gaze. They didn’t last long, though, before he ripped them from my body. Then his head bent low and his tongue swiped between my pussy lips, stroking upwards to circle my clit.