Flirting With the Forbidden

  He can look…but he’s not supposed to touch!

  Bodyguard Noah Fraser hasn’t seen diamond heiress Morgan Moreau for eight years—but the image of her naked body has been imprinted on his mind ever since! The sexy socialite was totally off-limits and it took every ounce of Noah’s iron control to walk away….

  Now he’s been hired to protect her again, so picking up where they left off definitely isn’t an option. But Noah’s body doesn’t seem to have got the memo—keeping his hands off Morgan is a 24/7 battle! And how can he resist the forbidden when giving in is so irresistbly tempting…?

  SNEAK PEEK EXCERPT FROM

  Flirting with the Forbidden

  “Noah,” James said, placing a hand on Morgan’s stiff back and urging her toward him, “I don’t know if you remember my sister Morgan.”

  Since the memory of her naked is forever printed on my retina, I should think so. Noah’s mouth twitched and when Morgan glared at him, he thought that she’d worked out what he was thinking. “Of course. Nice to see you again, Morgan,” he said in his smoothest, blandest voice.

  Wish you were naked, by the way.

  “Noah,” Morgan said. Her eyes flicked over him, narrowed.

  Noah just held her defiant stare. He’d perfected his implacable don’t-mess-with-me stare in the forces, and it had had more than a couple of recruits and higher-ranking officers buckling under. When Morgan started to flush, he knew had he won their silent battle of wills. This time.…

  Dear Reader,

  So many children, bright and bold, are failed by the current schooling system because they don’t fit into the “academic” box society wants to shove them into. Over the years I’ve watched the struggles of a few dyslexic friends and the pain mothers of dyslexic children experience because school is a minefield for their child. Because I believe that there are so many different types of intelligence and one isn’t better than another, I wanted to explore the effects dyslexia could have on an adult, especially one who comes from a wealthy, important and prominent family. Morgan, my bright, brave and bold heroine, is a result of those musings.

  And Noah… Oh, I’m so in love with Noah. He’s pulled himself out of a shocking family situation and is hard and tough but acts with integrity and honor. He’s a sexy, reticent ex-SAS Scot who thinks he doesn’t need anyone or anything. He probably doesn’t…except Morgan. And he doesn’t much like it.

  Morgan and Noah are equally strong and equally vulnerable and I so enjoyed getting to know them. I hope you will, too!

  With my best wishes,

  Joss

  xxx

  Come and say hi via

  Facebook: Joss Wood Author

  Twitter: @JossWoodBooks

  www.JossWoodBooks.com

  FLIRTING WITH

  THE FORBIDDEN

  Joss Wood

  ABOUT JOSS WOOD

  Joss Wood wrote her first book at the age of eight and has never really stopped. Her passion for putting letters on a blank screen is matched only by her love of books and traveling—especially to the wild places of southern Africa—and possibly by her hatred of ironing and making school lunches.

  Fueled by coffee, when she’s not writing or being a hands-on mom, Joss, with her background in business and marketing, works for a nonprofit organization to promote the local economic development and collective business interests of the area where she resides. Happily and chaotically surrounded by books, family and friends, she lives in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, with her husband, children and their many pets.

  Other Harlequin® KISS™ titles by Joss Wood:

  The Last Guy She Should Call

  Too Much of a Good Thing?

  If You Can’t Stand the Heat…

  These and other titles by Joss Wood are available in ebook format from www.Harlequin.com.

  Vaughan and I have been married for twenty years this year and he’s my biggest fan, my best friend and my favorite traveling companion. He’s also pretty hot.…

  This book is dedicated to him to say thanks for making me coffee every morning, for being a brilliant Dad, for loving me so much and for the fun that is our life.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  PROLOGUE

  Eight years earlier...

  Noah Fraser looked at the crown moulded ceilings above his head and tried not to think about the action in his pants—hmmm, at least he wasn’t wearing a kilt. Truthfully, he could understand what was happening in his pants far more easily than he understood the mess in his head. Lust was easy, and there was a straightforward and time-honoured process for getting shot of it. But since the obvious was out of the question—it required a great deal more privacy than he currently had—he knew he had to distract himself.

  He’d spent a lot of the past five years feeling horny—thanks to several tours of duty in dusty countries with little to no female interaction—and he’d learned a couple of techniques to relieve the frustration. Running through the process of dismantling his favourite weapon, the MP5 sub-machine gun, in the field usually did the trick.

  Safety check. Check.

  Noah banged his head back against the arm of the couch and cursed softly. What he really wanted was to get naked with that annoyingly sexy bundle of energy beyond the bedroom door. He was head-over-heels in lust with her...and a whole bunch of like. He could handle the lust...sorta, kinda...but the like had him tied up in knots.

  It was a time of firsts for both of them. He was her first bodyguard and hers was the first body—and what a body it was too!—he’d guarded. His mission was to keep her safe, and apparently hers was to crack the inscrutable façade he’d been told to present. It wasn’t easy keeping his demeanour deadpan, because she was funny and smart and had a dry sense of humour that he deeply appreciated. He’d soon realised that she was winding him up by practising her flirting skills on him and it had started a battle of wills between them: she tried to get a reaction out of him and he refused to give her one. He still wasn’t sure what the score was, but if they had to judge the competition by his frustration levels then she was streaks ahead.

  Release bolt by vigorously slapping the cocking lever out of the indent. Check.

  Okay, slight improvement...not much, but some. Noah, curled up on her too-small couch, glared at the closed door and cursed himself for being a fool...and for being unable to concentrate. Concentration, focus, control—control was his thing.

  Pull out the locking pin...

  His mind drifted again. She had the most amazing smile...and a ‘shoot-all-the-blood-to-his-groin’ body! Firm, toned, luscious, sweet...young.

  Noah pulled the pillow over his head and silently screamed into the fabric. Nineteen, for crying out loud! He couldn’t believe he was losing his mind over a teenager. He was a flippin’ moron. Morgan Moreau was too young and she was his principal. His principal! Six months out of the unit, he was new to bodyguarding and the CFT Corporation, but he was pretty sure that sleeping with his principal was high up on the list of bodyguarding no-no’s.

  Since he h
ad no intention of getting his ass fired over a piece of ass, no matter how sexy and tempting it was, he pulled the pillow away from his face, heaved in a deep breath and opened his eyes.

  ‘Crap!’ he yelled, scuttling up into the corner of the couch.

  ‘Some bodyguard you are. I could’ve stabbed you in the heart,’ Morgan drawled.

  ‘You’re naked,’ Noah croaked, dimly aware that the saliva in his mouth had dried up. It had probably joined his blood as it sprinted south.

  Naked, naked, naked, his body panted. Yeah, baby!

  Noah was unable to stop his eyes from scanning her body. Perky breasts, a flat stomach, a Brazilian... Oh, he was a dead man...a Brazilian.

  What was he thinking?

  ‘You have amazing powers of observation,’ Morgan said, her sexy mouth curving upwards. Her voice was perfect for the bedroom: gravelly, low, sexy.

  ‘Why...? What...? How...?’

  Morgan perched on the edge of the couch and placed her elbow on her knee, immensely at ease in her nakedness—which ratcheted up his level of panic. ‘I thought you were brighter than that, Noah. I’m here, you’re here—let’s have some fun.’

  Noah, his last two brain cells working overtime, narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Subtle.’

  ‘Straightforward,’ Morgan countered. ‘So, what do you say?’

  They could... Who would know? They could have a couple of nights of uncomplicated sex, and when they’d hunted down the group of fanatics threatening her famous and wealthy family he’d return to the field and they could both move on with their lives. He’d move on to another job and she’d pull the same thing on another guy...

  Noah frowned at the thought. While he believed in equality, the thought of Morgan getting naked with someone else left a sour taste in his mouth. It was on the tip of his tongue to warn her not to do this with anyone else, but he bit the words back.

  Which was weird. He didn’t like being controlled, hated people telling him what to do, so why did he want to do that to her? This was all too confusing; he’d had his fair share of sexual encounters but this was out of his ken. Way, way out. Outer Hebrides out.

  He dropped his eyes to her chest and realised that she had the most amazing nipples—pink and succulent. All he had to do was reach for her arm and tumble her onto his lap. One little tug...

  Nineteen. His job. Nineteen.

  She was entrancing. Look at those eyes...the colour of bold green glass...

  Nineteen. Job. Principal! He’d get his ass fired. Noah craned his neck and, yes, her ass was more gorgeous than he’d imagined.

  Noah, as hard as stone, rolled to his feet and yanked his shirt up and over his head, thinking he’d get her to cover up, but instead he just stared at what she offered. Who would know? Truly, who would ever know?

  His brain was back-pedalling, but he was facing a gorgeous naked girl who was offering herself on a plate, and the fact that he actually liked her as well was a nice bonus. When had he last genuinely liked a girl?

  Walk away, Fraser, just walk away...

  Then he remembered that he’d never had a halo that needed polishing.

  * * *

  Morgan felt his hand encircle her wrist, and as he launched her up into his hard body she closed her eyes in sheer, pure relief. For one moment she’d thought that this strong, quiet, sexy Scotsman was about to say no, that he was genuinely thinking about walking away. But suddenly he was hard under her hands, and his mouth on hers was an absolute revelation.

  He kissed her as if he owned her, as if she was—just for this moment in time—his and only his. His mouth was hot, silky, sexy. Morgan felt his fingers digging into the skin on her hips and she wished that he would do something with them... Instead he just kissed her: long, liquid slides that tasted like heaven-coated sin.

  Then Noah placed his hands under her butt and lifted her up and—oh, oh, oh!—onto his jeans-clad erection. The muscles in his arms bunched and she slid her hand up and down that tanned skin, briefly tracing the Celtic cross tattoo on his shoulder. Dropping her head, she kissed that smooth skin while he carried her back to her bedroom with an ease that astounded her.

  A strong, sexy Scotsman... She couldn’t believe that this was happening. Finally!

  Noah lowered her down to the cool white sheets of her bed and loomed over her, his mouth going to her breast and pulling it into his mouth. Then he slid a hand between her legs and she arched off the bed as hot, sexual power pulsed through her. He slid a finger inside her and lifted his head to look into her face.

  ‘So hot, so wet,’ he muttered. ‘You are a soldier’s dream, lass.’

  Morgan lifted her head and then smacked it against the bed as he built up a fire inside her that threatened to consume her.

  ‘Can’t believe I waited so long,’ she growled to herself. ‘Man, you’re good at this.’

  His finger stopped, his mouth pulled away from her breast and cool air drifted over her wet flesh. It was hot and muggy outside, but she knew that she’d crashed into an emotional iceberg.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that,’ she muttered as he withdrew from her and rolled himself away.

  ‘Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice?’

  ‘Kind of,’ Morgan admitted.

  He was trying to control himself; she could see that. He opened his mouth to say something and snapped his words back, his eyes sparking dangerously.

  ‘So, how does this work? Did you decide that your virginity was something you no longer needed and I was handy?’

  No! Yes! Kind of... How did she explain that she felt comfortable with him? Safe? From the moment she’d met him she’d known that he was authentic, solid. In her world, she didn’t encounter those characteristics that often. He made her feel grounded, real...special.

  And it didn’t hurt that he had a hard, droolworthy body.

  ‘I just thought...you...me...it would be fun.’

  ‘Fun, huh?’ Noah ran his hand through his hair and shook his head in disgust. ‘Morgan, just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Why are you so angry?’ Morgan demanded, pulling a sheet up and around her. Every inch of her skin was now blushing and she felt humiliated and confused. Why was this a problem? She was offering her body, not asking him to do her laundry.

  ‘You don’t just give it away—especially to someone like...’ Noah trailed off. ‘Damn it! Don’t you have a boyfriend? Surely you’ve had offers? I see how those guys you hang out with look at you!’

  Her blood cooled at the thought. ‘None of them can keep their mouths shut and, trust me, my hooking up with someone would be huge news. And a very big feather in someone’s cap.’

  Since she hadn’t slept with any of the society boys—sons of her mother’s friends, acquaintances and connections—she knew that she was a fish to be hooked, a prize to be won. She wouldn’t give any of those poncey, wishy-washy pseudo-men the satisfaction.

  Noah looked ill—green—and Morgan’s heart dropped like a brick. Only she could make a guy nauseous with an offer of sex.

  ‘So you went trawling, huh?’

  Trawling? Morgan frowned. Was he nuts? He was a far better choice on any weekday and twice on Sundays. ‘No, I— What’s your problem anyway?’

  ‘Just trying to figure out where I am in the pecking order. Above the pool boy but below the riding instructor? What comes next? Are you going to offer to pay me?’

  Okay, now he was way off course. ‘Stop being a jerk, Noah! Look, I like you, and I thought that you might like me...just a little. I thought that we were almost friends, and I’d rather do it with an almost-friend than someone who sees me as a prize.’

  But Noah wasn’t listening. He swore, his Scottish accent becoming rapidly more pronounced.. ‘I knew this was a bad idea. What is wrong with me? I cannot believ
e that I let my libido override my common sense, my professionalism. Acting with integrity, my ass. She’d knock me into next year if she knew.’

  Who? What on earth was he talking about?’

  Noah shook his head as if to clear it and glowered at her. ‘Put some clothes on. This isn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever.’

  Noah took one last look at her, then swore softly again as he turned and walked out of the room, slamming her bedroom door behind him.

  Morgan winced and cursed the tears that stung her eyes. ‘Guess that’s a big old Scottish no, then.’

  Curling into a ball, she lay on her bed and stared out through the open sash window. Sleep refused to come, and when she did manage to drift off she woke up to a stranger in her flat.

  Noah had left and in his place was a female bodyguard—just in case, Morgan thought grimly, she was so desperate to get laid that she seduced the next male bodyguard who was assigned to her.

  If losing her virginity had been the goal, then half the population in the world could have sorted her out. But she didn’t want half the population...

  Stupid man; she wanted him.

  ONE

  Noah Fraser dodged past a couple kissing and ran his hand across his prickly jaw. His eyes flicked over the waiting crowds, mentally processing faces against his internal data bank, and nobody blipped on his radar until he saw a tall, thin man with his hands in the pockets of his expensive trousers.

  He frowned and wondered what was so important that Chris had to meet him here.

  Twenty hours ago he’d boarded a plane at the Ministro Pistarini International Airport just south of Buenos Aires, after a week spent doing a full-spectrum security analysis for a museum. He’d identified threats and risks and then provided them with solutions to plug the holes. It was a part of the business they were trying to grow and it was lucrative.

  Because he was a frugal Scot, he still felt guilty that he’d upgraded his seat to business class, but he just hadn’t been able to face the thought of wedging his six-foot-three frame into a minuscule economy class seat to spend thirteen hours in cramped misery. As Chris kept reminding him, business class also allowed him to review his files in privacy, to catch a couple of twenty-minute power naps, to drink good whisky. He’d worked hard for a long time, he told himself, and he—the business—could afford it.