Morgan sat up then slid back so she was resting against the headboard. I tried not to groan in disappointment when she dragged the sheet up to cover herself. From the way her mouth was pursed, I couldn't tell if she was irritated or pissed or upset or a dozen other things I couldn't think of right now. Her eyes didn't give anything away, either, and I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.
"I didn't love him. And he didn't love me."
The words weren't even close to what I was expecting. In fact, they were so unexpected that I sat up and stared at her for a full minute. "You were going to marry some guy you didn't love? And who didn't love you back?"
Her gaze held mine for a heartbeat before she looked away with a heavy sigh. "It's complicated."
"Sounds like it."
"We were only going to stay married for a few months, six at the most. Just long enough to keep up appearances for his mother."
"His mother?"
"Yeah. She, um, she has certain ideas about what her son needs most."
"Sounds like a control freak."
"You have no idea. And that's not even the worst of it."
"Like what?"
Morgan shook her head, the motion broadcasting her determination. "The details aren't mine to share."
I thought about that for a few minutes then nodded. "Okay, fair enough. So—you were going to marry this guy and settle for a short, loveless marriage—"
"You make it sound worse than it really is."
"Yet you got cold feet and ran away."
"I didn't run away, not exactly."
"No? Then what do you call it?"
"A change of heart."
"On your wedding day."
"We had talked about cancelling the night before."
"But you obviously didn't."
"I didn't think it would be a big deal. At least, not until I had on the dress. Once I saw myself, I just..." She exhaled, the sigh long and loud. "I couldn't go through with it. So I came here and you know the rest."
Did I? Something told me there was a lot more to the story that she wasn't telling. But maybe she'd told me all she could. Maybe she'd been serious when she said the details weren't hers to share. And if she was keeping secrets for a friend, I could certainly respect that.
Didn't mean this wasn't rebound sex.
"So you didn't love him?"
"No."
"And you're sure this isn't rebound sex?"
A whisper of a smile teased the corners of her mouth. "Positive. We never slept together."
"Never?"
"No."
"You were going to marry a guy without taking him for a test drive first?"
"A test drive? Really?" One slender hand shot out and playfully smacked my shoulder. "That is such a guy thing to say."
I caught her hand and threaded my fingers with hers. "Is it? Sorry. It's just hard to believe you guys didn't, you know, have a little pre-wedding fun."
"Let's just say I'm not his type."
"Not his—" I slammed my mouth closed before I could say anything else. With those few words, Morgan had painted a much clearer picture, whether she realized it or not.
I tightened my hand around hers and tugged her toward me. The motion put her right where I wanted her: draped across my lap. I bent my head and caught my mouth with hers then ended the kiss before it could turn into more. "So. This definitely isn't rebound sex."
"Not even close."
"Good. Maybe, if I do my job right, I can convince you to stay a little longer."
Shadows filled her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. I silently cursed myself for saying too much, even as I wondered why I had said anything at all. I started to take the words back, to make a joke of them, but Morgan was already shifting, moving until she straddled me. Her soft mouth curved into a slow smile as she wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned closer.
"Did you know you talk too much?"
"Do I?"
"Yeah, you do."
I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her closer then damn near groaned out loud when she wiggled that sweet ass against my aching cock. "Then maybe you should do something to shut me up."
"Maybe I should."
Chapter Ten
Dylan
Vivid green eyes stared into mine for a long time—so long, I almost looked away. There was an intensity in Morgan's gaze that surprised, almost like she was trying to figure me out. I wanted to laugh and tell her good luck with that but now wasn't the time.
It so wasn't the time.
I leaned forward and caught her mouth with mine. Gentle first, maybe even a little hesitant, like I was asking permission. The kiss was soft and sweet yet surprisingly sexy, something that threw me at first. How the hell could a sweet kiss be sexy?
Yet it was, and I was surprised to realize that a part of me would be strangely content to just spend all night kissing her. That didn't happen very often. It wasn't that I was usually in a hurry to get down to business, it was just that I generally viewed the kissing part as a precursor of better things to come.
I'd never realized how much I had underrated kissing before. Or maybe it was just the woman I was kissing. There was something about her that pulled me. That made me want to get closer. That made me want to keep her safe and sheltered and protected.
Something told me that Morgan wouldn't appreciate that if I told her. I had a feeling she lived life on her own terms and was more than capable of taking care of herself. Or maybe what I was feeling had more to do with the fact that I knew she had every intention of leaving in the morning and this would be the only time we'd have together.
I deepened this kiss, relishing the swirl of our tongues together, relishing every little sigh that escaped from her mouth into mine. I tightened my hold on her and rolled then tucked the length of her body under mine. This was what I wanted, to feel her body against mine. To feel the intimate warmth of flesh against flesh. To hear the tiny moans of need falling from Morgan's mouth as she rocked her hips against mine.
I broke the kiss and trailed my mouth along her neck, taking my time to kiss and lick every inch of her skin. I moved even lower, my mouth finding one of her perky little breasts. I darted my tongue out and teased the hard point of one nipple. Morgan rewarded me with another soft cry so I did it again. Her hands tangled in my hair, urging me closer, and I willingly obliged.
My mouth closed over the soft flesh of her breast and I took my time licking and sucking. Slow at first, then a little faster and harder. She sighed and wiggled under me, her hips rocking against the hard length of my cock.
I knew what she wanted. Hell, I wanted it, too. But not yet. I wanted to draw this out. To take my time. To memorize every dip and flare of her slender body. To learn every inch and discover what she liked the most.
To create memories for the time after she left.
I eased her nipple from my mouth, turned my head, and lavished the same attention to the other one. God, she was sweet. So fucking sweet and those sounds she made were sexy as hell. Tiny moans and breathy gasps mingled in the heavy air around us, washing over me and urging me on.
I eased lower, trailing teasing kisses along her stomach and side. Lower still, until I reached the waistband of her skimpy sleep shorts. I didn't bother dragging them down, not yet. Instead, I pressed kisses against the material, moving even lower until I reached the V between her legs.
I lifted my head and looked at Morgan. The sight of her reminded me of some warrior goddess ready to conquer her next lover. It was a ridiculous image to have but I couldn't help it and I knew this was how I'd always remember her: with her head tilted back on my pillow, her red-brown hair tousled around her flushed face, her mouthy slightly parted on a breathy gasp of need and anticipation.
My eyes still focused on her face, I dipped my head and pressed a kiss against the flannel of her sleep shorts, right between her legs.
A sharp gasp filled the air and her eyes shot open. The vivid green was darker no
w, the color blending in with the blackness of her pupils. Her gaze caught mine and her mouth parted on a single word.
"Please."
It was all the encouragement I needed.
My fingers closed around the waistband of her shorts and I tugged, dragging the material down her long legs then tossing them to the side. I settled between her legs, my mouth watering at the perfection in front of me.
And she was perfect. From the tightly trimmed patch of dark red curls to the glistening pink flesh of her lips and clit. I reached out with one finger and gently dragged it along her clit and was rewarded with another gasp, this one sharper than all the others before. Her hips surged toward my touch, silently asking for more, and I happily obliged. A little harder this time, my touch lingering a little longer.
Then I dipped my head and flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue, teasing and tasting. I deepened the kiss against her flesh and slowly eased one finger inside her. Muscles clenched and squeezed and I swallowed back my own groan of need. She was hot and wet and tight and the tiny sounds she made were driving me fucking wild.
I wanted to sink my cock into her. To feel those muscles contract around my hard length and squeeze. To hear her cry my name as she came apart in my arms.
But not yet.
I pulled her clit between my teeth and sucked, teasing the flesh with my tongue. I eased my finger out then slowly slid it back in, deeper this time. Her hips surged toward me, seeking and demanding, and I gladly obeyed.
Her legs parted even more, opening herself more fully. I slid my finger in and out of her tight passage, over and over as her head thrashed from side to side. Her muscles clenched around me, the pull long and tight—
And then she shattered around me, her muscles convulsing. She reached down and closed one hand around my wrist, holding me in place as she rocked against me her hips pumping as she rode my fingers.
And holy shit, she was beautiful. So fucking beautiful. My cock throbbed and ached with the need to be buried in her tight heat. To feel her body convulse around its hard length. To milk every last drop as I came inside her.
I swallowed back my own groan and shifted to the side so I could get rid of my boxer briefs. I bent my head, pressed a lingering kiss against her damp flesh, then practically lunged across the bed to reach my nightstand.
My fingers were clumsy and awkward and I damn near dropped the condom twice before finally sheathing myself. Then I rolled over and tucked Morgan beneath me. She gasped again, her hips rocking toward me, searching. I closed one hand around her leg and dragged it up, spreading her even more as the tip of my cock teased her wet entrance. Once. Twice. Once more.
I caught her gaze with mine, refused to let her look away as I drove into her, deep and hard, burying myself inside her. Morgan's eyes fluttered shut and her head tilted back as a breathy scream escaped her parted lips. Muscles tightened around my cock, squeezing and pulling as she climaxed a second time.
I clenched my jaw and tossed my own head back, searching for much needed control as her body came to life around me.
I sucked in a deep breath, eased out, then sank inside her again. Again and again. Hard. Fast. Deep. Over and over until I no longer knew where I ended and she began.
Over and over until I knew one night with Morgan would never be enough.
Chapter Eleven
Morgan
"Stay."
"I can't."
"Is there somewhere you need to be? Anyone expecting you?"
"No, but—"
"Then stay."
"I can't."
"Just for a few days. Until you figure out what you want to do."
"But—"
"I'll even buy your ticket for you."
"Dylan—"
"Just a few days. A week, tops."
I wasn't sure why I finally agreed to stay. Maybe it was the glimpse of promise I'd seen in Dylan's eyes. Maybe it was the lure of actually having someone who wanted me.
Or maybe it was simply because Dylan had just given me the best orgasm of my life. Four of them, actually, not that I was counting.
Whatever the reason, he'd convinced me to stay. That had been just over a week ago, one day past his "a week, tops" request—and eight days past what common sense told me I should do.
Yet here I was, stretched out on Dylan's sofa with the television on. I wasn't watching it, couldn't even begin to describe whatever show was playing on the large screen. My mind was too busy coming up with plans I probably wouldn't carry out.
No, I needed to carry them out. I couldn't stay here any longer. Staying here was too...comfortable. Too easy. Eight days, and we'd already fallen into a pattern of domestication that scared the hell out of me. Not because it felt wrong, but because it felt right.
And that way lay madness.
What the hell was I doing? Playing house with a guy I didn't know and who didn't know me. It was ridiculous. More than that, it was dangerous. Maybe not physically—I'd never felt safer than I did when I was with Dylan—but definitely emotionally. It would be entirely too easy to let my guard down and allow him to take care of me.
Yeah, sure. Like I ever needed anyone to take care of me before. I didn't. I'd become self-reliant all those years ago first because I had to and then because I wanted to. I wasn't about to fall into the trap of letting someone take care of me now.
Except wasn't that exactly what I was doing?
I blew the hair from my face and looked around Dylan's apartment as if seeing it for the first time. It wasn't decorated in what I'd call traditional bachelor pad, which is probably why I hadn't given any thought to it the first morning I'd come here. Not that I'd been in the frame of mind to pay much attention. The key Cassie had given me worked so I hadn't even considered the fact that this wasn't Cassie's place. And it wasn't like I'd ever been here before so I didn't actually have anything to compare it to. Knowing Cassie, though, I should have known better. She was always pulling a fast one, trying to get one over on everyone she could. There was no reason to think I'd be the exception.
Which is probably why our friendship, if you could call it that, hadn't lasted very long.
And why the hell was I sitting here thinking about being conned by Cassie when I had a hundred more important things to think about?
Because I was putting off the inevitable, of course. I didn't belong here and it was time to move on. I knew that.
But a big part of me didn't want to go.
If I was going to leave, I should do it today. Tomorrow at the latest. Dylan was out of town until late tomorrow night for games and it would be easier to leave if he wasn't around.
I just wasn't sure if I could leave without saying goodbye. This was uncharted territory for me because there'd never been anyone I cared enough to say goodbye to.
That realization washed over me with the force of an icy wave. One word kept flashing in front of me, taunting me.
Cared.
I cared about Dylan—and that meant I was already in trouble.
I snagged the remote from the side table and hit the power button then pushed to my feet. It was time for me to leave. Dylan had asked me to stay for a week and that week had already gone by. He hadn't said anything else since then, hadn't asked me to stay longer, hadn't mentioned me leaving. For all I knew, he probably planned on me being gone by the time he got back from his game tomorrow night.
Except he hadn't acted like he expected me to gone when he left. He'd caught me in those strong arms of his and pulled me close, kissed me like he never wanted to stop, and told me he'd see me when he got back. And like some love-starved fool, I'd clung to him and told him I couldn't wait.
Yes, it was definitely time to leave.
I grabbed my rolling duffle bag from the closet and started tossing my clothes inside. Packing didn't take long because I didn't have a lot, which made living on the road a lot more convenient.
Should I leave a note? Part of me thought that might make things worse but I couldn't lea
ve without at least telling him thanks. I grabbed the magnetic notepad from the refrigerator, found a pen in the junk drawer, then stared at the blank sheet of paper, wondering what the hell to say.
Going with the theory that less was more, I scribbled a few lines then stared down at the words.
Thanks for everything. I'll never forget my time here in New Orleans.
Was it too much? Not enough?
I stared at the words a minute longer then swallowed a growl of indecision and scrawled my name at the bottom. I would be here all night in search of the perfect words if I stopped to think about it, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.
I placed the notepad back on the refrigerator then grabbed my bag and headed toward the door. I had no idea what the bus schedule was and while it would only take a few minutes to go online and look, I didn't. It might mean hanging out at the bus station for a few hours, or even until morning, but I could deal with that.
What I couldn't deal with was the two visitors standing on the other side of the door when I opened it. Their presence was so unexpected that I screeched in surprise and stepped back, ready to slam the door in their faces. Jacqui must have known exactly what I was planning to do because she stepped forward and placed one manicured hand against the door to stop me. Her clear eyes drifted to the bag behind me then lifted to meet mine.
"Going somewhere, cher?"
"Um—" I didn't get a chance to finish because Jacqui pushed her way past me, Addy right behind her. I stared at the open doorway, gauging my chances of fleeing and wondering if they'd follow me. I could probably move a lot faster than either of them, especially considering Jacqui was in a pair of her signature heels from hell.
Except I'd seen Jacqui walk in them and had a feeling she could still outrun me, no matter how high those heels were.
I closed the door and placed my bag to the side then turned toward the two women. They were standing by the small kitchen island, studying the apartment like they'd never seen it before. For all I knew, they hadn't.
Troublemaker (New Orleans Bourdons Book 2) Page 6