Not His to Touch: a Forbidden Virgin, Guardian & Ward Dark Romance

by Piper Trace

  She was still so fucking tight he nearly came after only a few thrusts, but no, that wasn’t going to be enough for him. Not this time.

  “This is all for you,” she whispered.

  She was still his. Only his. He made love to her, slowly worshiping her, proving his devotion as he brought her to orgasm again and again. And only when he knew he’d taken care of his little one, did he let himself come, emptying deep inside her.

  He went to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, he stood by the bed staring at her. She looked so beautiful in his bed. Like she belonged there. She opened her eyes and smiled, reaching for his hand.

  The gravity of their situation slammed into him, and he fell to his knees next to the bed, clutching her hand, his face pressed to the mattress in front of her.

  “Bishop,” she said, concern in her voice.

  He raised his head and pressed her hand against his mouth. “We have to stay away from each other.”

  She was already crying. “Not this. Not tonight.”

  This time, he was crying too. “I can’t have the happiness a life with you would bring. Not after what I’ve done.”

  “I’ve tried to let go, Bishop, but it’s like you’re asking me to reject the air I breathe. Or the sunlight. Or hope.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t have hope. Stop hoping, Pen.”

  She took her hand from his and sat up, pulling the sundress over her head. His eyes raked her naked body with the hunger of an addict.

  She touched his face. “It’s no use, Bishop. You know it. We can’t keep our hands off each other. If we’re in the same room, we’re going to start touching.” She ran her hands up her torso to her breasts, cupping them. She pinched her nipples until the hard, pink tips were fully distended.

  Bishop groaned, his thickening erection already aching to be inside her again.

  “Now come to bed,” she offered. “Let me help you forget your concerns.”

  *****

  Penelope

  Pen opened her eyes to see Bishop in the chair by the window, staring at her. He looked exhausted.

  “Have you been up all night?”

  “Yes.” His voice was somber, his face severe.

  She could just tell by looking at him what he had on his mind. “Fuck, Bishop. I don’t even want to hear it. I haven’t even had coffee.”

  “I want you to move out.”

  She shot to a sitting position. “What?”

  “Your trust will be turned over to your control when you turn nineteen. That’s only a few months from now. I’ll pay for your apartment until then and make sure you’re taken care of until you control of your money. After that, you’ll have all the money you need to start your life.”

  “I don’t want that money.” Anger coursed through her. “There’s only one thing my father ever gave me that I want to keep.” She glared at him. “You.”

  Bishop closed his eyes in a slow blink. “What you said last night was true. We can’t control ourselves around each other. Once you move out and start having a regular college life around other college kids, I think you’ll change your mind about me.”

  “I’ll never change my mind about you.” Her voice trembled.

  “All night I tried to think of a way to keep you,” he said, his voice tired. “But that’s selfish. I’m nearly ten years older than you. I barely leave the house. I can’t drive. I can hardly see. I can’t take care of you, Pen.”

  “You’ve taken care of me more than anyone ever has.”

  He jumped to his feet, holding his head. “I practically killed myself last night just walking across campus. It makes me sick to think of what almost happened to you because I couldn’t see well enough to get to you sooner.” He put his hands on the back of his neck and looked to the heavens. “I want you to do things in bed I shouldn’t ask you to do.”

  “No,” she begged. “I love the things you do to me.”

  “Shove my cock into your throat until you gag? Until tears stream down your cheeks?” His face was a mask of shame. “And it fucking turns me on, Pen. I’m not right. Don’t you get it? I raped that girl and I can’t be around you because I use you the wrong way too. You have to go so this can stop.”

  She threw back the covers and scrambled off the bed, still naked. She was done arguing with him. He needed professional help, or he’d never forgive himself and accept that he deserved love. But he was never going to get that help unless she gave up him up.

  Bishop had told her over and over that he loved her enough to push her away. Did she love him as much?

  She gathered all her strength, forcing herself to say the words. “Fine, you win. I’ll go without a fight on one condition.” Her throat ached from trying not to cry.

  “Name it,” he said.

  “You get some fucking therapy. You talk to a professional and you explain to her why you threw away our perfect love.”

  Bishop closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. I will.”

  “Good. I’ll go pack, and I’ll send you my new address.”

  She grabbed her dress and stomped to her room to retrieve her suitcase from under her be. It didn’t take her long to gather her belongings. She didn’t have much. She took the small ring box out of her nightstand and opened it. Her grandmother’s ring reflected the morning light with maddening brilliance. The ring looked like hope, and as she closed the box, her heart broke and all her hope ran out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Penelope

  PENELOPE SETTLED IN to her new place. She had to admit, she liked it. There was a new feeling of maturity that came from having her own apartment, and she enjoyed all the fellow students with whom she shared the complex.

  She still broke down sobbing every night, but at least she’d gotten it down to once per day.

  She had texted Bishop her address when she’d first moved in, and he’d written back, asking how she was doing. She hadn’t responded. When he sent her another message the next day, she’d asked him to stop contacting her. She couldn’t talk to him. It hurt too much.

  Bishop had stopped texting.

  At first, Pen’s biggest accomplishment was just getting out of bed every day, but after time, she threw herself back into school, and she even made new friends of her neighbors. Professor Warner had been fired, and the non-nonsense woman who replaced him was a welcome change.

  After Bishop, she was slowly, painfully, finding a way to live again.

  *****

  Bishop

  Bishop made his way hesitantly down the walkway of the modern apartment building. It was Penelope’s nineteenth birthday, and he’d brought the paperwork she needed to finalize her inheritance. He hadn’t seen or heard from Pen in months, and he wasn’t sure how she was going to receive his unannounced visit.

  He turned the corner and found himself only yards from her. She was facing away from him, her arms wrapped around an older guy, who was clearly just leaving her apartment. Bishop’s heart fell to his feet. He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but this one of the worst-case scenarios.

  Pen stretched up to kiss the man on the cheek. “You are the greatest guy,” she said. “My dream man. What would I do without you?”

  The guy grinned down at Bishop’s little Penelope, and asked if she was still coming over later. Bishop wanted to shout at him, “She’s not coming over. She doesn’t belong to you,” but he knew he was already far too late for that.

  “I can’t wait,” she responded, a smile in her voice. The man turned to leave. “Oh wait.” She called him back, ducking into her apartment and emerging with a toolbox. “Don’t forget this.”

  As the man left, Pen looked around as she stepped back into her apartment. Her eyes fell on Bishop, and her face blanched, like she’d seen a ghost. In a way, she had. Bishop made his feet take him to her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I should have called.”

  She folded her arms over her chest.

  He knew better tha
n to ask, but he had no choice. His need to know was the only thing in his head, playing on a loop. “Is that guy someone you’re seeing?” Bishop nodded his head in the direction the man had left.

  She glanced that way and shook her head. “He’s my neighbor’s husband. He fixed my leaking toilet. We always get together on Tuesday nights for tacos.”

  Bishop’s knees nearly gave out from under him. Maybe he wasn’t too late.

  A young girl walked by, and she and Pen exchanged a greeting. Pen watched her over his shoulder, and he glanced back to see the girl scurrying away. When he faced Penelope again, she was pink and suppressing a smile.

  “You’re blushing.”

  “That was my friend Jackie,” Pen explained, dropping her eyes shyly. “She’s a nursing major. She was behind you pantomiming swooning all over the hallway. I guess she thinks you’re pretty good-looking.”

  Bishop couldn’t help it. He smiled wide. “That makes me so happy to hear.”

  Penelope frowned. “I guess things have changed. So, now you’re into female adoration? Or is it just that you don’t want it from me?”

  Now Bishop blushed. “I meant it makes me so happy to see how many friends you’ve made. You’re doing exactly what I hoped you’d do, once you got out of the isolation of Sullivan Manor.”

  She nodded, her face blank. “You’re right. Things have really changed for me. It was hard for a while, but I went back to therapy, and that helped.” She looked at him, her eyes oddly devoid of emotion. “I learned my unhealthy infatuation with you stemmed from love I was missing from my dad. With some distance between us, I could eventually see things much more clearly.” She crossed her arms and straightened her back.

  “I don’t need you now, Bishop.”

  He nodded, his stomach a knot of black despair. He was wrong. He was too late. Holding out the manila envelope, he explained. “Here’s everything you need for your inheritance. Congratulations, Pen. I’m no longer your guardian. You’re free. You never have to see me again.” He smiled.

  Slowly, as if she thought it might be boobytrapped, Pen took the paperwork.

  He forced himself to keep his voice steady. “I’m just really glad you’re happy, little one.” He turned to go.

  He’d nearly made it around the corner when Pen called out.

  “I didn’t say I was happy.”

  He turned, giving her a quizzical look.

  “I got my shit together. I grew up a little. I took care of my business, and I learned to live without you,” she said. “You were always this irresistible treasure in an unbreakable glass box to me. I could see your love glittering in there, so precious, and I wanted it so badly, but I couldn’t get in.”

  He’d drifted back to her, listening intently.

  “And god, I tried, Bishop. But you were impenetrable. So, I learned to live without you. But I’m not happy.”

  “But you did everything right. You got everything figured out. Why aren’t you happy?”

  She stared into his eyes, and he nearly lost himself in her chocolate brown irises. “I explored why I wanted you, why I was so attracted to you. I learned to live without you. I even got to a place where I don’t need you anymore.” She shook her head. “And after all of that, I was left with one glaring conclusion. I am still in love with you. I don’t care how it started. I don’t care where it went. You are my person, Bishop. But make no mistake—I will go on living without you if you can’t let me love you.”

  Bishop nearly exploded from happiness. Enveloping his little Penelope in his arms, he kissed her passionately, trying to make up for the last few months they were apart.

  She smiled into the kiss and wrapped a leg around him. He put a hand under her thigh, very close to the apex of her thighs, already hard for her.

  “Little one, you’re not the only one who got some things worked out,” he said, his voice gruff.

  She raised her eyebrows. “You really went to a therapist?”

  He nodded. “Three times a week. Intensive therapy. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I promised you.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “No, it was more than that. Being without you nearly broke me. I didn’t think I was strong enough to stay away from you. But I worked hard on my issues. I’m not perfect, and I’m still a little fucked up. I’m so sorry I pushed you away so many times. I thought it was best for you, but I was wrong. Now I see how much I hurt you.”

  He kissed her again, and then pulled back, searching her eyes. “I didn’t dare to hope I’d have another chance with you. I don’t know how you could forgive me or why you’d give me another shot, but if you could…” He held her face in his hands. “If you could, Pen.”

  “Yes, Bishop. God yes,” she nearly sobbed. “I haven’t been with anyone else. I can’t. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

  He reached down to scoop her other leg up around him, carrying her.

  “Bedroom,” he said against her mouth. “Take me to your bed. I’ve got to be inside you. I need to have you every way it’s possible, and then I want to do it all again. Even then, it won’t be enough.”

  She squealed as he pushed the door shut behind them, but suddenly, she pulled back, her face serious. “Stop, stop. How do I know you won’t freak out tomorrow? Or the next day? Start texting me and telling me to screw other guys. I won’t live through that again. I won’t do it.”

  He closed his eyes and touched her face. “Never again, honey.” He kissed her, slowly, exploring her with all his senses. She was right—so goddamned right. She was everything he needed. And in that instant, he knew what he wanted to do.

  “Go get the little box your father gave you. The one with your grandmother’s ring.”

  Pen’s mouth dropped, her chocolate eyes wide. In a flash, she’d retrieved the small case, as if she kept the ring handy where she could take it out and look at it.

  He dropped to his knees in front of her and opened the box. “Be mine forever, little Pen. It’s always been you. I love you so much that I can’t imagine Professor Sullivan would disapprove of me cherishing his little girl for the rest of my life, putting you above all else.”

  Penelope gasped, her hands clapped over her mouth.

  “If you’ll let me, Penelope Sullivan, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I am the man who deserves your love. Marry me, little one. Make me the happiest man on earth. Be mine forever.”

  Penelope squealed and nearly knocked Bishop to the floor.

  “Yes! Yes. I love you so much.”

  He slipped the ring on her hand with trembling fingers, and then he stood, looking into the eyes of his only love. The girl who’d just promised to be his wife. His Penelope, the woman how helped him see his way out of the darkness.

  The End

  *****

  About the Author

  Piper Trace likes to write sweet love stories with just the right amount of filth.

  Her life as a lawyer and a cog in a large corporate wheel was killing her soul. She escaped by telling her coworkers she was busy during lunch, and sat in her car with a notebook to write sizzling tales of romance and heartbreak. She guarded that notebook as if it was her greatest treasure, because it was. Now she’s quit her corporate job to write romance full-time.

  When not writing, Piper repurposes old furniture, sews poorly and builds things fairly well. Her DIY work can be found at www.dropdeadthrifty.com, which she runs for fun with her DIY partner, New York Times bestselling author Sidney Bristol. Piper uses her writing money to buy new tools.

  She lives in Ohio with her military hero husband, her two young kids, a big fluffy dog, and a canary. Her tee-shirt reads, “Will write for power tools”.

  Reach out to me on social media! I’m friendly and love to chat about my books.

  Facebook.com/AuthorPiperTrace

  Twitter: @pipertrace

  Email: pipertrace@hotmail.com

  *****

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r />   Read the first three chapters from Come When Called below!

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  Chapter One

  FORD HAWTHORNE’S SINFUL looks were already enough to give Evie butterflies, but hell, even his fidgeting sent her into naughty daydreams. Dreams about his bed, a place she imagined as a candy-shop of sexual titillation, the likes of which she’d never seen before in her pedestrian life. If only she could be Ford’s sexual focus for a moment. Just one lick. That might tide her over.

  Except of course it wouldn’t. Not for as long as she’d been craving the man.

  Evie swallowed against her lust and blinked until she was solidly back in the law firm library’s tweedy seat instead of writhing naked in her client’s Egyptian cotton sheets. It wasn’t an easy feat. She’d been saving her pennies a long time for a shopping spree in this man’s candy-shop. And she’d worked up quite a sweet-tooth.

  Stop looking at his fingers.

  Stop looking…

  The thought trailed off as Evie watched Ford’s long fingers stroke the mahogany of the table. His index finger caught the corner of the contract and curled it up with a flick again and again. The skin of his large hands was smooth perfection. No scars. No calluses.

  They were the hands of a rich man, engaged most often in activities no more arduous than holding a cell phone, a martini, or the elbow of a long-legged beauty. Having been pampered all his life, Ford might’ve grown up pretentious and unapproachable, especially to service-providers like Evie, yet he was anything but. Though she was only a paralegal working under John Martin, the senior partner who proudly claimed Ford, the firm’s biggest client, as his own, Ford treated Evie as if she ran the place.

  Flick…flick.