I shook away the sensation that something was off and exited my truck, reaching for the couple of bags that lay on the seat beside me, and headed for the tailgate to get the rest. Collecting the gallons of paint, I headed for the front door.
“Morg,” I called out. “I’m back!”
With the music cranked up, I knew exactly where she was. With how high the decibels to her music was, it was a wonder that this woman wasn’t anywhere near deaf. Hearing her voice above the country tune she had on made me smile. She may have nothing on Brantley Gilbert, but she sure as hell knew how to kick it in the sticks as the song coined with the same name said it.
When I opened the room door, all thoughts of continuing with the day’s project or the suspicious tail I had acquired on my way home vanished.
With her hips swinging, hair tucked in some loose messy bun, her skin coated with a light sheen of sweat, a roller in her hand and paint spatter all over her arms, Morgan had never looked any better.
And then she did this little shimmy manoeuvre with her hips that set my blood on fire. I wanted her, and I wanted her like yesterday.
Fuck it!
Setting everything on the floor, I couldn’t help myself. I snuck up on her, grabbed her hips and pulled her abruptly to bump her rear to my front.
“Holy shit!” The roller went flying as she spun around, then sucker punched me in the shoulder. “You ass, you scared me half to death!”
I grinned down at her, then kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, but this little sprite had me mesmerized, and I couldn’t very well let her go on with her hypnotizing dance now could I?” I kissed her now smiling lips as my arms squeezed her to me. “Now what was that last move you did?”
“Hmm…” she murmured against my lips as I broke away from hers. “You mean this one?”
She turned in my arms and proceeded to rub up against my front like a cat in heat. Yeah, that was the one. I groaned.
With the desk only a few feet away, I nudged Morgan’s hips forward until her balance was thrown and she had to lean forward onto the sturdy piece of wooden furniture to maintain her footing.
“Theo!”
“Don’t move,” I instructed her, my hands running up the side of her thighs to cup her ass. “Seeing this ass in these shorts all day has been driving me crazy.” She moaned when my thumb rubbed against the seam of the jean material that ran over the crease between her legs. The heat radiating from her along with her distinctive scent of arousal had me salivating.
“W-what are you doing?” Morgan asked when my hands reached around her to undo the button of her shorts. “We have people floating around the house, you can’t-”
“Baby, the only work they’re doing is outside today.” I rubbed my crotch against her delectable bottom. “If they need anything, they know to knock or ring the doorbell.”
“But-”
“Shh.” I nipped her earlobe. Her body quivered against mine and with a few quick flicks of my wrist, Morgan’s shorts were on their way down along with her underwear. “I want to thank you for the show. In fact…” I reached to unzip and take myself out of my jeans, rubbing the tip of my cock in the slickened crease between her legs with one hand while I kept her pressed against me with the other. “I feel hard pressed to be thankful in a very thorough manner.”
As if knowing what I wanted her to do next, Morgan spread her legs to allow me more room to move between her thighs.
Lining myself up with her heat, I slowly entered her, hissing “Yes.” She whimpered as I invaded her depths, melting into me. “So sweet, so hot, so slick.” I licked my lips. “I love how wet you get for me.”
“Just for you,” Morgan purred as I began to pull out.
“For me,” I said and thrust forward.
“Yes! You!”
Her declaration did something to me.
“Brace yourself, baby, you’re in for one hell of a ride,” I announced right before I pulled back and slammed in as far as I could go.
Morgan cried out as her hands braced on the edge of the desk and I set the rhythm.
There wasn’t anything soft about the way I brought us pleasure. It wasn’t sex. It was hot. It was sweaty. It was pure carnal rapture – animalistic fucking at its finest.
Hard. Rough. Loud.
The minute Morgan’s climax took her, I felt her insides clench down on me like a vice and I was a goner. “That’s it, baby. Take it all,” I said, spilling myself inside her depths, bringing forth a long keening cry from her as her pussy clenched me even harder as a second wave of orgasmic bliss rose on the tails of her first.
We collapsed to the desk where I was careful not to crush Morgan. Our breathing stabilized, and when I could think straight enough, I pulled out of her and flipped her so she could face me. The look of pure satisfaction on the woman’s face was something to boast about.
“Sweetheart?” I asked through the smirk that had overtaken my face.
“That was…” She raised her head and gave me a hard kiss before collapsing onto the desk, her chest rising and dropping rapidly. “Just, wow!”
The reality of her size sunk in. “I wasn’t too rough?”
She shook her head, a grin spreading across her face. “Baby, I might be small, but I’m not made out of glass.” Her hand came up and cupped my cheek. I turned my head and kissed her palm without losing contact with her eyes. “I loved it, but I have a question.”
“What’s that?”
“Where the hell did that come from, and when can we do it again?”
Chapter 27
Nearly two weeks had gone by, and I wish I could say that the odd break-and-enter episode in Morgan’s barn had been a one-time occurrence, but it wasn’t the case. After yesterday’s setback, however, I knew that someone was trying to send us a message.
Finding thousands of dollars’ worth of my equipment not only damaged, but some of it ruined beyond repair, was more than enough for me to bring in the police.
They came.
They investigated.
They left with nothing more than a report for their files and a half-empty reassurance that they were investigating things and that it was most likely teenagers. Much to my annoyance, but feeling the need to spare Morgan any more grief and financial worry, I had my men help move the tools, equipment, and the shipments of building materials onto my property, locking them away in my garage, and only bringing them along when we needed them.
Two days later, I got up early to start on Morgan’s kitchen flooring.
As I walked to her garage – and not her barn – to fetch the tile we’d just locked up there the night before to make today’s task a bit easier on us, I knew something was wrong when I found the padlock clean cut and lying on the ground with the door ajar.
Sonofabitch!
Pushing the door open further to peek inside, I took in the mess I knew awaited me.
In heaps of rubble lay most of Morgan’s new Italian slate tile. Cans of paint, varnish, caulking – whatever liquid that could be found – were splattered from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. In the middle of the messy deluge was Damon’s classic ’69 Charger that – according to what Morgan had told me a few weeks back – he’d finished restoring right before his last deployment.
I took one last gander at the piles of what could mostly be considered garbage, and resigned myself to a day of dealing with the calls to my insurance and the cops for the second time in as many days, as I headed back to the house.
“What’s wrong?” Morgan asked as I walked into the kitchen, my face clearly displaying my anger. She was barefoot, dressed in nothing but a loose fitting t-shirt that hung off her shoulder, holding a cup of steaming coffee out to me. I took it from her at the same time she said, “It happened again, didn’t it?”
I nodded. “It’s worse.”
“What about-?”
Before I could shake my head or say anything else, Morgan rushed out of the house and toward the garage. Setting my coffee mug down, I rushed after her. I caugh
t up with her just as she stormed through the garage door.
I knew what she was looking for.
With a pained cry, she dropped to her knees as the sight of her brother’s hard work showed its ruined state.
“Baby.” I tried to get her to stand, but she was limp, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed. I crouched down and wrapped my arms around her. “Morgan.” I turned her face into my chest and cradled her head against me.
“It’s all I had left.” She sniffled. “This junker he loved so much, and this house. Except now, it’s really junk.”
“It’s fixable, baby,” I attempted to console her. “I’ll take care of it.” Keeping an arm wrapped around her back, I reached under her knees to pick her up. Her bloodied knees made me wince. Morgan’s body shook with sobs as she wrapped her arms around my neck and held onto me. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll call the police.”
After the last incident, Paxton had asked me why I hadn’t contacted my old friend Shane. Well, I guess I was going to now. This wasn’t a sporadic innocent act of bored delinquency. This was someone after my livelihood, and they were choosing to pick their fight with me on my woman’s turf. The lingering question was why was this happening.
Chapter 28
Opening the front door, I was met with a grin I could never forget.
“Well if it isn’t Sergeant Theodore Lowell!” I moved to the side to let Detective Shane Peters in, shaking his offered hand.
“Peters, how the hell are you, man?”
“Better than you, it seems,” he said, his eyes snagging on Morgan who stood behind me. “And I take it this is your girl?”
Morgan moved forward and introduced herself, albeit a little withdrawn.
“Sweetheart,” I turned Morgan around and guided her toward the sofa, “why don’t you tell Shane here your side of everything and then maybe you can go lie down for a bit.”
Dejected, she nodded and in a very robotic fashion, she proceeded to explain what’s been going on. When she finished, I excused us and guided her upstairs, made sure she was comfortable, and assured her that I’d be back soon.
As my feet hit the landing, Shane grinned. “I like her.”
I chuckled. “It’s impossible not to. Believe me, I tried.”
My friend’s demeanor changed to one so serious. “Now that your girl is out of earshot, why don’t you tell me why these disturbances seem to be targeting you?”
I pondered his words for a few seconds and came back with, “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“You just got back into town after being away for the last ten years.”
“How does that have anything to do with what’s going on?” My frustration was growing, and by what Peters said next, it was evident that the detective could sense it.
“Listen, T, someone’s got a beef with you and your woman. It’s my job to stop them, but until you start answering my questions-”
“With all due respect, Shane, I grew up here. Hell, you were there back in the day. I’m sure some people aren’t happy to see me back in town. It’s not like I was known to keep my nose clean. People around here have long memories.” I sighed, running a hand down my face. “You want to know who I think it is, I’m telling you that I don’t know. I haven’t talked to anyone other than the crew of guys I brought in to fix Morgan’s house, my brother’s lawyer friend, and my own family, unless you’re thinking old man Saunders at the hardware store on Picket is behind this.”
The man’s lips quirked on one side, clearly remembering the shenanigans we used to get up to. “Fine,” Shane said. “I get it. You’ve been quiet.”
“Yeah. I’m not proud of the shit I pulled when I was a kid, but that’s just it, I was a kid. Hell, I was bad enough for my parents to ship off to military school. Why would anyone look down at me when you were just as bad, and look at you now.”
Shane grinned. “Hard to believe, huh?”
“Nah, I always knew you’d end up just like your old man.”
“You were gone for a hell of a long time,” he said. “What was it that you did, exactly?”
“I know you’re asking about everything I’ve been up to in the last three years, but aside from telling you that I’ve seen the worse of what the world has to offer,” I crossed my arms and sported a wry smile, “the rest is confidential.”
“They told us you were dead.” The sad look on my old friend’s face struck a nerve.
“What’s this got to do with-?”
“Do you think that maybe someone that you might have worked with-?”
It was my turn to cut the man off. “Anyone I worked with is dead. I lost my team in my last mission, Shane.”
The man didn’t look at all surprised at what I divulged, more sympathetic really. “I know.” He leafed through his notepad. “But that was three years ago. Surely this confidential bullshit of yours has something to do with other missions, no?”
“Yeah, there were other missions.”
“Is it possible that-? I mean, you yourself said you’ve seen the worst of what the world has to offer. Clearly you’ve dealt with-”
A dry laugh escaped my lips. “I’ve worked alone over the last three years, Shane. I’ve met my fair share of shady people in that time. Some I’ve had to side with at one point or another in order to get what I needed from them. I’m not saying more, but the likelihood of them knowing anything about me and my personal life, not to mention to come after me when I’m no longer active, is ridiculous.”
“I know, but I have to cover all my bases, and let’s face it, if you double-crossed someone, depending on their state of mind, I wouldn’t completely dismiss them.” The man paused to look at me and shook his head with what looked like disbelief. “Damn, but it’s really good to see you, T.”
“Yeah, I wish it were under better circumstances.”
“Some of the guys and me get together for a few drinks and a round of pool every couple of weekends,” he said. “You might want to show up at McAskill’s on Friday. It sure would be good to catch up.”
I nodded. “You buying?”
“The least I can do to reintroduce you to the fold, seeing as you made it back from the sandbox after a decade,” he said. “Fucking pretty boy. It disgusts me how that scar across your eyebrow hasn’t done you a disservice in the looks department.”
Chuckling, I gave him a punch to the shoulder. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.” Shane’s eyes went to the stairwell leading to the upstairs bedrooms. “Not sure what’s going on here, but do me a favor and call me if anything else pops up, all right?” He pulled out a business card from his lapel pocket and started for the door. “And by the way, didn’t you know you weren’t supposed to dip your wick in the client pool?”
“Fuck off.” The man harrumphed as I flipped him off. “She’s more than a client and you know it.”
The man’s face took a sorrowful look that had me wondering what it was that I’d said that had caused it. “I know,” he said, his voice soft. “Keep an eye on her, the way she looked before she went up there tells me that she may be close to her breaking point. I’ll see you around, T. McAskill’s. Friday. At seven.”
Without waiting for a reply from me, he exited the house.
Having missed lunch, I headed into Morgan’s kitchen to see what kind of food I could put together for us. I made us a few sandwiches, grabbed a bag of chips, a couple bottles of water, and washed up some berries.
Morgan was still sound asleep when I let myself into her bedroom.
Setting the tray of food down on her bedside table, I couldn’t help but take in the sleeping beauty before me.
So innocent, yet so naughty.
Peaceful, yet a riot at the best of times.
Precious and frail, yet the strongest person I had ever known, because her strengths were all from within.
Before I could wake her, Morgan’s eyes opened and met mine.
“Hey…” I tucked a few stray str
ands of her hair behind her ear. “How are you feeling?”
She groaned. “Like I’m living a nightmare.” I gave her a sympathetic look. “What did Shane say?”
“He thinks it’s got something to do with me.”
“What?” She bolted, seated upright in bed. “But that’s ridiculous!”
“No, it’s not, really,” I told her.
“What else did he say?”
Lifting the tray of food, I set it down between us and smirked. “How about we eat and I tell you what Shane thinks, and then what he said about you.” I leaned over and kissed the confused look on her face.
Chapter 29
Friday came around and I found myself walking into McAskill’s shortly after seven, despite my reluctance to leave Morgan alone. Tonight was the first evening she and I would spend apart since we’d gotten together, even though we’d never put a label on what we were. Being in our thirties, it seemed odd to call her my girlfriend, but I suppose that’s what she was.
There hadn’t been any new developments with the investigation on the happenings at her house, nor had anything new occurred throughout the rest of the week.
“Well, look who’s back from the dead!”
“Kippers!” My jaw dropped at the sight of the man. “Since when have you been back State side?”
The man got up and that’s when reality hit. The limp said more than enough when he took the few steps to meet up with me, grasping my fist and pulling me in for a rough pat on the back. “It’s good to have you back, brother,” he said. “I knew they couldn’t break you.”
If anyone could remotely understand the nature of what I’d been through during my deployments, it was Dalton Kippers. Despite suffering his own version of hell, to see the man standing before me made me feel more at home, less of an outcast, if you will. Then again, so did the sight of the other three men who stood behind him.
“If I didn’t know that Peters was telling the truth, I’d say the poster boy for our armed forces has just walked through the door.” That baby face might have been able to fool all the ladies back in the day, but his mouth would always get him in trouble. There was no mistaking that the idiot who’d just spoken was none other than Brycen Mathews.
A Heart's War (The Broken Men Chronicles Book 5) Page 11