Protective: Legatum - Book 1

by Sylvian, LuLu M

  “Where is your head today, kiddo?” Joyce asked.

  “In heaven,” Honey’s ability to focus only lasted seconds before her eyes hazed out of focus, and she began sighing contentedly to herself.

  “Oh, yeah? Heaven? Heaven’s name wouldn’t happen to be Morgan, would it?” Joyce asked.

  “Yes, it would.”

  “I’m glad things are going well for you. I take it he is as skilled as he is good-looking.” Joyce chuckled

  “A lady never kisses and tells.” Honey chided, her fingers wrapped around her pendant, the pendant Morgan had given her.

  “You aren’t a lady, and your blush tells all. It’s okay. It’s kind of cute. You are so smitten.” The bell over the door chimed. Joyce turned to see Morgan walk in. She turned back to see Honey, her eyes shining as she gazed at him. “You can’t hear me anyway. Just don’t make me hose you two down.”

  Honey turned her attention back to Joyce, “Excuse me?”

  “Go take a break! Geez.” Joyce had been right. As soon as Honey saw Morgan, she couldn’t hear the world around her.

  “Thanks!” Honey ripped off her apron, slipped her hand into Morgan’s, and was out the door before Joyce could respond.

  “How’s work today?” Morgan asked.

  Honey noticed he hadn’t dressed in work clothes today. “You have made me stupid. I can’t think straight. All I can think about is you.”

  Morgan stopped and pulled Honey into his embrace and off the sidewalk. “All I can think about is you too and kissing you again.”

  His lips softly slanted against hers. A sweet kiss, tentative, tasting. Honey responded, opening her mouth, slipping her tongue between his lips. The kiss deepened, and they were lost in their embrace.

  Morgan broke the kiss and looked into Honey’s green eyes. He was lost, and he knew it. His heart pounded in his chest. . He wanted to possess her completely now that he had claimed her, yet he knew he had to proceed carefully so not to frighten her off. Too overbearing and Honey could interpret his actions as the opening gambit of an abuser. Yes, he wanted Honey all to himself but never at the expense of her mental wellbeing.

  Morgan stroked her cheek with his thumb.

  He would have to find an apartment around here so he could continue to woo her properly. The Air Stream was not adequate nor appropriate for the job. Besides it wasn’t finished, and the couch was godawful uncomfortable. Honey deserved a better bed for when she would stay with him.

  “What are you thinking?” Honey asked.

  “I was thinking how beautiful you are.” Morgan’s voice was soft as he continued to stare at her.

  “As much as I want to stay right here just like this, I only have thirty minutes, and my fat ass needs food.” Her words indicated the need to move, but she didn’t. She stood with her arms wrapped around his waist, staring back into his eyes.

  Morgan stepped back, slipping his hand from her back around her shoulder so they could begin walking.

  “What are we eating?”

  “Hamburger and fries. I don’t have the wherewithal to juggle tourist crowds.” Honey turned them so they began walking in the opposite direction. “There’s a fast food place a few blocks up the hill.”

  Morgan nodded. “I’m familiar with it. I didn’t think you liked fast food.”

  Honey laughed. “It’s not my favorite date food. But yeah, I do actually eat fast food on purpose, just not all the time, I have to keep my fat ass in check.”

  Morgan stopped walking. A look of concern crossed his brow. “Why do you say that?”

  “Say what?” Honey turned to look at him.

  “Fat ass. You don’t have one. As a matter of fact, you barely have any body fat other than those.” Morgan stared greedily at her breasts. “You are built like an underwear model. You realize that, right?”

  Honey sighed. “I should be built like an underwear model. I was one.” She began walking again, dragging Morgan along by his hand. “You already know more about me. I don’t want to scare you off, but it looks like you are going to learn even more.”

  “I want to learn all about you, Honey. If you’re not comfortable, I’ll understand, but…” he paused.

  “No, no secrets, Morgan. My ass is fat—” She sighed. “—in comparison to what it was at the height of my modeling career. I am huge. In comparison.” Honey emphasized the last words. “I have an eating disorder, but I’m actually a good healthy weight now. My doctors have said so. But I didn’t use to be. Uhm, I have severe body dysmorphia issues.”

  “Dysmorphia?”

  “Yeah. I don’t see what other people see. I’m mostly better, but from time to time I slip.”

  Honey stepped up to the counter and ordered a double hamburger, fries, and a large soda. She stepped aside to allow Morgan to order. He ordered twice as much food as she had, then paid.

  She slid into a hard plastic booth, placing the tray of food down in front of her.

  “So when I was modeling, I lived on water, cigarettes, and a carrot or two a week. Oh, and vodka. At first it wasn’t like that but, eventually, I was literally skin and bones. I became obsessed with being thin. If you couldn’t count your ribs while looking in the mirror you were considered too fat. Of course, stylists and photographers only praised me for being so thin. Thin and elegant. The thinner I got the more contracts I got. I ignored the foul breath—cigarettes and gum masked that. The loose teeth I chalked up to eating hard foods, like celery. The celery I ate usually came with a Bloody Mary. I drank calories before I’d eat calories.” Honey took a large bite of her burger, barbecue sauce smeared across her cheek.

  “The me of back then would never eat one of these. I would have rather been dead. Of course, I practically was. So there I was dying and not realizing it. My periods stopped. Instead of seeing that as a warning my body was sick, I saw it as a bonus. No bloating. No pesky accidents. My hair started thinning drastically, but since I worked for designers who preferred their models in crazy wigs, it wasn’t a concern.”

  “I was living in London when my mom showed up. She had seen some of my most recent photos and flew over to bring me back to the States. She faked a reason, saying I had to come home. Said my brother was in a coma. So, of course, I flew home with her. It never occurred to me that if my brother was in a coma, Mom would have called. She wouldn’t have flown to personally escort me home. My higher order thinking skills were being affected by my condition. When I got home, my brother was there. He was fine. No coma. They were all waiting for me. I basically walked off the plane and into an intervention.

  “It took it a while to kick in. I fought against it at first. I was a successful model. This was clearly backlash to my fame and choice of lifestyle. Mom took me to several therapists. The last one was brilliant. She started showing me these pictures of famine victims. I could see those poor women were starving. They were nothing but skin and bones. Their elbows and knees looked crazy huge compared to the rest of their arms and legs. I remember wondering how they could even move because there was no sense of muscle.

  “The therapist asked me if I thought their bodies were beautiful. I said I thought they were sick and needed help. Nourishment. I said they looked like they were dying. That’s when she unveiled her little deception. The bodies were all me. I didn’t recognize my own body. She had a Photoshop artist take a few of my pictures, change the skin color, and put different heads on them. Some of the pictures were flipped. I hadn’t even realized they were the same poses used over and over again. That’s when it hit me. I was starving to death. I was that dying body.

  “Up until that moment, my body dysmorphia was so bad I could not see that my own body was damaged. I began taking daily pictures and hiding my head so I could see my body. I got onboard with the nutrition program and began gaining weight. I used money I saved while modeling to go to school and get healthy.

  “I still have issues seeing myself properly. I have to actually work at it. So I’m not trying to be vain if I take a pict
ure in a mirror, I need to remind myself. It’s a tool to keep me healthy.”

  “Honey, I…” Morgan paused not sure what to say.

  “So I slip. I forget to eat, and I say I have a fat ass. It’s a weird kind of ownership. Like how some African Americans use the n-word with each other. It causes everyone else to flinch, but for them, it’s power and ownership. Definitely not appropriate for anyone else to use that term. So for me, I can call out my ass fat, but no one else can.”

  Honey finished the last of her fries and continued as Morgan watched her. “I was really good for several years then I had a hard, fast slip backward. Uhm…Bryce started commenting on my weight. Saying things like I was gaining a little too much weight and how I was so much prettier in my modeling pictures. I fell back into the binge and purge habit. That’s a hard one to break. Bryce would harass me if I wasn’t eating, and then after I would eat, he would comment about my figure. He would take food away from me if he thought I had eaten too much.”

  “Bryce is a dangerous asshole.”

  Honey chuckled. “That he is. I was secretly in therapy while I was with him. The binge and purge confession to my therapist opened the door so I was able to see his abuse. I’ve been good for a while now. Lana has been crazy supportive.”

  They left the restaurant and began walking back towards the café.

  “Honey, I will support you however you need me to. I don’t know how or what, but you tell me what you need and I will do it.”

  “Really? Okay, first, don’t pick on me for having to go to therapy occasionally.”

  “Never.”

  “I might need a reminder to eat but also don’t be afraid to call a halt if you notice I’m hitting a binge, because the binge/purge habit has been a really hard one to recover from. And by binge, I mean a binge, not a big meal. You know what a binge looks like?”

  Morgan shook his head.

  “A binge doesn’t involve a meal. It’s random weird foods. Nothing balanced. It’s when I start eating things I don’t normally eat, like sour gummy worms. I don’t typically eat those. I’m a chocolate kind of girl. So foods I don’t normally eat and constant eating in huge quantities. Salt-sweet-salt is my typical pattern. I haven’t binged in almost two years,” she said proudly. “You still want me?”Morgan snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “I think I will always want you.” The mating glow shimmered gently around her. She was his, and he had no intention of letting her get away.

  Honey smiled at Morgan. “I keep telling you these horrible things about me then you say something like that. You’re not running away screaming or calling me crazy-train.”

  “I turn into a wolf, sweetheart. I think I can handle a girlfriend with some food issues and an asshole for an ex.”

  She rested her hands against his chest.

  “You said girlfriend.”

  “I said girlfriend. Is that okay with you?”

  “That’s very okay with me!”

  *

  Morgan leaned against a mound of pillows he’d propped against the bedroom wall. Honey sat in front of him. He lightly traced the lines of her tattoo. Green tendrils of vine tracery scrolled over her skin. The outlines of pink lotus petals grew over most of her back. Her skin was smooth like silk under his fingertips.

  He wanted to offer for her to have the ink work finished. In time, he would. Right now she would refuse. She thought she still owed him money for replacing her television and other items that had been stolen. Money didn’t matter. Only Honey’s happiness mattered. His finger wandered up her spine. He traced the moon below her neck. When this piece was finished, it would encompass her entire back—an extreme close-up of a lotus blossom under icons of the phases of the moon, framed with vines. For Honey, it symbolized growth and becoming who she was meant to be. To him, it was beautiful artistry on the most beautiful canvas of Honey’s perfect back.

  Honey hunched over her phone. This posture stretched the skin of her back over her bones. Morgan let his fingers trail down her spine, slaloming between the vertebrae. He stretched his hand and began tracing her ribs. A few were emphasized by her posture. Stupid how an entire industry would call a body this perfectly proportioned fat. She’s perfect. Hell, even if she did put on weight, she would be gorgeous. Morgan smiled. He would love to see her big and round with his baby, and if she stayed big after the birth, he would just have more Honey to love.

  Honey squirmed. “Hey, that tickles.” She batted at his hand.

  Morgan reached around her and pulled her back against him. “Who are you texting so fervently?”

  “Lana. It’s work. I’m trying to get her to change my schedule. She wants me to work through my regular days off. By the time I have a day off again, it will have been almost two full weeks. But since it’s two different pay periods, there is nothing I can do about it.”

  Morgan reached around and took the phone from Honey. He set it deliberately on the nightstand. His hand stroked the skin on the side of her neck and down her arm.

  “Hmmm.” Honey leaned into his touch. “Hmmm.”

  “Don’t worry about work. Lana wouldn’t do that to you without reason.”

  “But that means we don’t get the same days off.” Honey began pouting. “Hard to spend all day in bed with you if I’m at work.”

  Morgan snorted. “It’s hard to spend all day in bed when it’s this small.”

  “Are you mocking my double bed? It’s bigger than that couch you sleep on in the trailer.”

  “Touché.” Morgan began kissing the skin along the top of Honey’s shoulder. “This bed is barely big enough for the two of us. I’ll get a larger one when I find an apartment.”

  Honey shifted so she could face Morgan. “An apartment?”

  “I need a place down here. I can’t live in the trailer for much longer in the condition it’s in. Dante needs to pick it up and take it back to the yard in Sonoma, so it can get worked on. It’s barely habitable as it is. I certainly can’t have you there. While I could make love to you on that couch—hell, I could make love to you anywhere—you deserve better.” Morgan brushed a stray curl back. “You need your space. You don’t want me here all the time. So I need an apartment.”

  “Is your job moving you here?”

  “No,” Morgan shook his head. “You’re here. I’ll figure the job thing out.”

  “I’m here?”

  Morgan chuckled. “Yes, you’re here. You’re my girlfriend, and I want to be with you. That means moving here.”

  Morgan cupped the back of Honey’s neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Her lips were soft and pliant against his. Honey shifted her weight and straddled Morgan’s lap.

  “And you’re going to get a big bed?” she asked after they broke off the kiss. She began twining her fingers into the hairs of his chest.

  “The biggest one I can find, so I can keep you in it for days at a time.”

  “What would we possibly do in bed for days at a time?” Honey teased.

  Morgan leaned to the side, locating a condom pack. “Go through these in bulk.” He held up the foil square.

  Honey took the pack from Morgan and tore it open.

  *

  Honey lay staring at the ceiling, listening to Morgan shower. They had spent the entire evening making love. Morgan made her body tingle in the most amazing ways, even when he was no longer touching her. He’s moving here to be with me. Butterflies twirled in her stomach, not with trepidation, but with happy excitement. She knew where her emotions were regarding him. She needed her brain to agree and her lips to be willing to say the words. Clearly, Morgan felt the same, otherwise, why would he be moving?

  The shower stopped. Morgan stepped into the bedroom, a blue towel wrapped low around his hips. Water dotted and sparkled along his arms, and the hairs on his chest lay in wavy wet lines against his tawny skin. Honey’s desire for him skyrocketed. She had a need to lick all the water droplets from his body.

  “Where should we go find food?” he aske
d, toweling his hair off.

  Honey took him in with her eyes. “Do we need to eat? Could we maybe do that again? I suddenly have an urge to give you a tongue bath.”

  Morgan chuckled. The towel around his waist hit the floor. “I don’t need convincing.”

  He crawled onto the bed and hovered over her, pressing her back against the mattress.

  His tongue trailed up Honey’s body from her navel, between her breasts, and up her neck.

  “Hmm, tongue bath sounds like a wonderful idea,” Morgan growled.

  Honey stretched to reach Morgan and licked his neck. Hooking her legs around his, she managed to exert force so that Morgan rolled. His back lay against the mattress with Honey on top.

  She lowered her head and began licking the drops of water from his broad shoulders. He tasted of clean skin and fresh water. Her licks began alternating with small sucking kisses and gentle bites. Honey’s mouth found Morgan’s nipple. He audibly inhaled.

  Honey looked up, admiring his sculpted face. His eyes were closed, and his lips held the slightest grin. She kept her eyes on his face as she lowered back down to his other nipple. She sucked it into her mouth. His closed eyes fluttered as he hissed again. She replaced her mouth with her fingers, twirling the sensitive nub. She kissed a trail down his chest. Licking when she encountered a stray droplet of water. Her hand left his nipple when she reached his navel. She teased around the edges with her finger before flicking it with her tongue. His erection jumped and pulsed, kicking her in the shoulder. Honey paused to glance at the engorged flesh. She smiled to herself, noting that Morgan really liked having his bellybutton toyed with. She returned her attention to his navel, gently biting his abs just below the indentation.

  Morgan groaned in pleasure as Honey laved and sucked.

  Honey worked her attentions lower on his abdomen. When she encountered the thatch of hair above his manhood, Honey bypassed that skin and began licking and biting Morgan’s inner thigh.