His Forbidden Obsession Read online

  HIS FORBIDDEN OBSESSION

  Jessa Kane

  Copyright © 2019 Jessa Kane

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Private Griffin

  “Which of your men is the least likely to be…moved by a pretty female, Captain?”

  As soon as the elderly nun asks my captain that odd question, I know what his answer is going to be. Me. Of course he’s going to answer with the name Griffin. Most of the soldiers in this regiment pass their nights in the town brothel, spending their money on women and alcohol. My lack of interest in doing the same has made me an outsider—and that’s more than fine with me.

  The captain crosses his arms and regards the nun thoughtfully. “I have someone in mind, Mother Superior, but I’m curious why you ask.”

  After a quick glance over her shoulder at the group of my fellow soldiers, she steps closer to the captain and lowers her voice. “There is a young woman among us who cannot help but stir the lust of men. We’ve kept her hidden for many years because of her attractiveness, but obviously we have no choice but to bring her into the open today.”

  She is correct that there is no choice.

  My regiment has been tasked with transporting the nuns from their current home to a safer, more remote convent up in the hills, where we will remain with them for a week to ensure the building is safe from intruders.

  There has been a rebel uprising in our country and the church has become a target, along with the government. All religious buildings are in danger of attack and their convent is no longer safe. We are helping them travel under the cover of night and will remain with them indefinitely until the rebel forces can be defeated. Ours is a country that values its religious institutions and the nuns are to be protected at all costs.

  “You see, Captain,” says Mother Superior, folding her hands together at her waist, her expression severe. “I’m in need of someone to keep her safe from the other men.”

  The captain is visibly skeptical, but he flicks an absent wrist at me. “I will assign Private Griffin to this most worthy cause. He is moved by no female.”

  Snickers reach me from the other soldiers, but I ignore them, saluting the captain and standing back. I’m looking for a place to sit down and clean my rifle when the nun surprises me by clutching my forearm with her bony fingers. “Does the captain speak true? You are not the kind to fall prey to a woman’s wiles?”

  I grunt in the affirmative. Although, perhaps she has gotten the wrong impression about me. I’m a red-blooded male with all the appropriate needs and urges. I had casual relationships that were physical before I joined the army—and they meant nothing to me. I am positive that I will not be moved by the nun she claims to be so pretty. While in the throes of his third divorce, my father taught me a long time ago that women are more trouble than they’re worth—and the more beautiful, the higher the capacity to make a man’s life hell.

  As a thirty-year-old man, I’ve watched from the sidelines as this has proven true, time and time again, for my two older brothers back home, in addition to my own father. And now some of the soldiers in my regiment. They waste time writing to women and pining over snapshots in their bunk, while the women merely scheme over ways to make their men crazy with head games and ultimatums.

  The men who don’t have women waiting at home throw their money at sex.

  Either way, it’s always a woman making a man broke and miserable.

  If the men in my regiment want to laugh over my ability to withstand the charms of women, so be it. I’ve heard them speculate that I’m impotent or a eunuch or that I prefer the company of men. None of those things are remotely true. When I fist my cock at night and bring myself off, it’s the female form I think about—though there is never a face attached. In real life, however, there is no woman who will ever tempt me to make bad decisions or act like a fool.

  “Are you positive your willpower is so strong, soldier?” Mother Superior asks again. “She must remain untouched, you see. When her father brought her to us as a girl, her virtue being stolen was his deepest concern. It has been something of a challenge keeping her innocent.”

  This is getting ridiculous. “I assure you, she will arrive at the convent with her innocence. I’m not a man who wants for willpower.”

  Finally, Mother Superior seems satisfied. Mostly. There is a still a glint of anxiousness in her eyes. “Very well. I will bring her out now.”

  When she turns and scurries into the convent, I shake my head, wanting to laugh for the first time in a long time. This job will be an easy one. I’ve been fighting in the field for months, witnessing bloodshed between the army and the rebels. I’ve killed men with my bare hands and dodged bullets on the front lines. To think that a young woman—a peaceful nun, to boot—is going to challenge me in some way is laughable.

  Behind me, the soldiers are getting restless with the need to load these women onto the bus and complete today’s mission. They’re probably already thinking of ways they can blow their pay on booze and sex. We are only waiting on two more of our charges, the nun I’ve just spoken with and the young woman she believes can bring everyone of the male sex to their knees.

  Again, I have the urge to laugh. Not going to happen.

  My eyes narrow when Mother Superior emerges from the stone building with a small figure at her side. It’s a second nun in the customary robe, except hers has a large hood attached that covers her head and shadows her face. A rosary is fashioned around her waist, the cross dangling at her stomach.

  A finger of uneasiness tickles the back of my neck and I frown over the involuntary reaction. It’s probably just my senses reminding me to be on guard during the journey ahead, since we’ll be going through locations of unrest.

  The nuns stop in front of me, Mother Superior looking more uneasy than ever.

  A second later I find out why.

  “Private Griffin,” Mother Superior says quietly, positioning herself so that she’s blocking everyone else’s view of the second nun. “This is Sister Mercy. Please keep her safe, as we discussed.”

  Then Sister Mercy looks up at me.

  Claws embed themselves in my gut and I make a sound.

  The ground rushes up at me and I brace for impact, but when I shake my head, I’m still standing—staring—at the most beautiful woman who ever walked the earth. Her eyes. I can’t even believe they’re real. Huge and golden and hopeful. Her hair is mostly hidden beneath her habit, but little auburn strands peek out at her temples. There’s a smattering of freckles across her nose, making me think of nighttime stars that sometimes pop up early, at sunset. And her mouth…

  It’s not a mouth that belongs to a nun.

  It’s a mouth designed for sinning. With me.

  The need to taste it causes a static roar in my ears.

  “I see you’re not as immune to her as your captain claimed you would be,” Mother Superior says. “Perhaps we should find someone else to escort her—”

  “No.”

  Sister Mercy will be put in someone else’s protection over my dead body. She would be mauled by the debauched men in my regiment.

  Hell, I think a man of the cloth might break his vows for a taste.

  Any man would. My own cockis stiff and pressing against my uniform pants. One look at her has turned me into one of the horny animals I typically scorn—and that pisses me right off.

  With a growl, I pump my rifle in one hand. “Keep your head down and don’t give me any trouble.” I take her by the elbow through her robe. “Let’s move.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sister Mercy

  Oh no.

  This is terrible.

  Private Griffin obviously doesn’t like me and now I will make it my mission to change his mind. I can’t help it. I always do this. Last year, right before I turned eighteen, Sister Mary Margaret transferred to our convent and I spilled milk on her during our first breakfast together. She couldn’t stand me after that, so of course, I showed up at her room every morning with fresh berries, coffee and a line of scripture, trying to start fresh.

  Sister Mary Margaret transferred again. To get away from me.

  It’s a horrible flaw in my personality, this frantic need to make people like me, but as Private Griffin urges me onto the bus, I can already feel a ramble building in my throat. He’s in for it now, poor man.

  Midway up the stairs, he stops and turns. “Head down. Stay close.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” I say brightly. “I know the drill.”

  His grumbling sound vibrates the air between us. “We’re going all the way to the back. You’re going to sit in the corner, stay there and be silent.”

  “Ooh, I don’t know about that. Can we compromise on whispering?”

  “Why can’t you jus
t be quiet?”

  Wow. He’s even meaner than Sister Mary Margaret. And twice is tall, with lots of muscles, not that I’m noticing something like that. I’m not supposed to notice a man’s physical attributes and I’m definitely not. It’s against the rules.

  “I’ll try to be quiet.”

  Private Griffin makes another one of those prolonged grunting sounds and continues guiding me up the stairs. I keep my eyes downcast, letting him pull me to the back of the bus and deposit me in the very back row, up against the window. He takes a seat beside me, blocking me in with his enormous body. From beneath my hood, I can see his knees digging into the back of the seat in front of us, which is saying something, because the rows are quite spacious.

  The bus lurches forward and with my heart in my throat, I say goodbye to the old convent as it passes in the window, the only home I’ve ever known. I’m going to miss it forever. Even the winter drafts and mice and creaky floors. I’ll miss my window facing the distant mountains, especially when they’re capped in snow. And I’ll miss—

  “Are you crying?” Private Griffin says gruffly.

  I shake my head vigorously, sending tears flying in every direction. “No.”

  “Good, because I wouldn’t do anything about it.”

  “I know.”

  A few moments pass. “It’s all right if you talk, I guess.”

  “I was going to talk anyway.” I rub at my nose with the sleeve of my robe. “Do you have any coins in your pocket?”

  “Uh…yes.” His knees dig even deeper into the seat in front of us as he roots around in his pocket. As he does so, I hook a finger in the edge of my hood so I can regard the private. He’s definitely the frowning sort. But I suppose if it weren’t against the rules, I would admit he’s rather angular and handsome. His hair is windswept and deep brown, but the hair darkening his jaw is pitch black. There’s a permanent furrow between his brows and a dimple in the center of his chin.

  Somehow I just know he hates that dimple.

  Even though the Lord gave it to him.

  How long has it been since I thought of the Lord?

  It must be a full hour by now.

  I worry my bottom lip with my teeth until the handful of change appears above my lap. “There. What do you need the change for?”

  “There’s an anniversary edition of a coin I’ve been looking for everywhere, but I don’t think it’s here.” I poke through the offerings in his meaty palm. “Either way, the little clink sounds make me feel better when I’m blue. See, you did do something about my tears!”

  He stares at me dumbstruck for a moment, before he shoves the change back in his pocket. “Keep your voice down. It’s…”

  “It’s what?”

  “It’s almost as distracting as your face.” He seems shocked at having complimented me—I think?—out loud, and clears his throat roughly. “Where does a nun find coins to search through, anyway?”

  “The collection plate, of course—” I slap a hand over my mouth, lowering it slowly. “Don’t tell Mother Superior. I always pay it back when I find a coin I’m looking for. Most of the time.” My shoulders slump. “Now you’re really never going to like me.”

  The private nearly shouts his reply at me. “Who said I didn’t like you?”

  “You haven’t smiled once,” I point out.

  “I never smile.”

  “So you do like me?”

  “Never said that, either.”

  “Oh,” I whisper, smoothing out my robe and trying not to have hurt feelings. “This is probably a good time to tell you my father left me at the convent when I was ten and never came back, so I have abandonment issues. At least that’s what Mother Superior tells me. I always think…maybe if I’d been better or more likeable, my father would have come back or not abandoned me at all.”

  His tone softens considerably. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “So you’ll understand why I want you to like me.” He’s quiet for so long, I start to feel a little defensive, even though surely that must be a sin. Almost everything seems to be a sin. That doesn’t stop me from feeling put out over his indifference, though. “I probably would be doing the same with any soldier on this bus, you know. Trying to make them like me.”

  I watch his hand flex into a fist where it rests on his thigh. “You will not associate with a single one of them, are we understood?” His big body shifts toward me on the seat. “Not unless you want their blood on your conscience.”

  I put out my hand for a shake. “Say we’re friends and you have a deal, Private.”

  He eyes it warily. “I don’t have any use for a friend.”

  Trying to appear casual, I wait. But I don’t feel casual, whatsoever. There’s something about this man that makes me think he’ll be important to me. Not in a romantic way. Obviously. I take my vows very seriously. But I think he needs a friend as badly as I need one and since the regiment will remain with us at the new convent for a week, it’s likely we’ll be seeing a lot of one another. I’d like our interactions to be pleasant. And I can’t help wanting to know more about him, this surly male.

  Finally, after some obvious deliberation, he takes my hand—and a long shudder wracks him. He pulls his hand away fast.

  “Soft,” he mutters under his breath. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep? We have a long ride ahead.”

  If his words seem to have a dual meaning, I ignore the possibility and nod off a little while later with my head against the window.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sister Mercy

  I’m not sure what wakes me up.

  Perhaps a bump in the road or a bird calling to our bus as it passes.

  But it takes me a few seconds to realize I’m more comfortable than I’ve ever been in my life. My head is snuggled into something that is soft and hard at the same time. I feel so small and protected, very unlike the feeling I used to have in my old bed at the convent. The narrow, lumpy mattress always made me toss and turn, leaving me with grogginess and puffy eyes.

  One time, I asked Mother Superior if I could have a new mattress and she sent me off to pray for my materialistic soul. And she was right. A complaining nun is a disgrace. So I almost feel guilty now for burrowing my face into the warmth and protection of the…wait, what is this I’m lying on?

  My eyes fly open, the wings of my heart flapping like a wild bird.

  I’m sitting on the private’s lap.

  My legs are thrown over his massive thigh and my bottom—

  Flames eat at my cheeks.

  My bottom is notched right into his lap.

  In order for the Lord to forgive me this transgression, I’m going to be saying the rosary until I’m ninety. So…

  So I might as well enjoy it for a few more minutes, right?

  After all, it was an honest mistake. I must have searched out his warmth and comfort in my sleep. It wasn’t a conscious sin.

  What is his scent? It’s sweat and soap and…fertile soil. I know that last aroma well because I often help some of the sisters plant bulbs in the fall. The combination of his three smells lulls me, but also makes my belly tingle. That alone tells me I should definitely apologize for my forwardness and go back to sleeping against the window.

  Maybe just a few more minutes. Mother Superior is at the front of the bus and we’re tucked all the way in the back. Based on the gentle snores coming from the other seats, I’d say the chances of getting caught sleeping on the private are very low.

  Nuns don’t think in terms of what they can get away with, Mercy.

  Oh yeah.

  I absorb one final second of heat, then start to wiggle my way off the private.

  He growls in his sleep and traps me against him more securely.

  My second attempt yields the same fruitless results.

  While I’m sitting there trying to decide my next move, I realize there is something very large prodding me in the buttocks. A gun, perhaps? I slide my bottom over it, trying to determine the shape and my eyes shoot wide. I’ve never borne witness to male genitalia, but I’ve seen plenty of crucifixes and I know there’s something hidden under the white loincloth. But on the crucifix, the mysterious male part isn’t…sticking out.