I quickly undid my pants and sheathed myself with the condom, damn near dropping it in my haste. Then I grabbed her hips, pulled her from the counter, and lowered her onto my cock with one quick move.
She immediately tightened around me, her hips rocking against me as she sought her own rhythm. I tightened my hands on her hips to still her then thrust up, burying myself deep inside. Again. Harder. Deeper.
Her head fell back and a low moan escaped her parted lips. I watched her, enthralled with the expression on her face as I rocked into her. Fuck, she was so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
And mine.
Whether she knew it or not, she was mine. I didn't care how possessive or primitive it sounded, I only cared that it felt right.
She was mine.
I claimed her mouth with mine, swallowing each little cry as I drove into her, over and over. Deeper. Harder. Losing myself in her wet heat.
Finding myself in her cry of release.
I held myself still as she shattered around me, as her inner muscles squeezed. Then my own climax exploded, the strength of it so unexpected that my knees damn near buckled. I caught the edge of the counter with one hand, steadying myself—steadying both of us—until the stars behind my lids cleared and I could breathe again.
Reality seeped back slowly, almost in phases.
The sound of the refrigerator humming in the background.
The soft flow of air coming from the ceiling vent.
Morgan's breathing, harsh and sharp and deep as she pulled air into her lungs.
My own breathing, just as sharp and deep as hers.
Minutes went by—five or twenty, I had no way of knowing—until I was sure I could move without falling. I eased Morgan back onto the counter, felt her body shudder against mine as she slowly eased her legs from around my waist. I dropped my forehead against hers, unwilling to move more than I already had.
Not yet. Not when all I wanted to do was hold Morgan.
But I had to move, for practical reasons if nothing else. I eased away from her then hurried to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean up. When I returned, Morgan was still sitting on the counter, a sleepy expression of contentment on her face. In fact, I thought she might really be asleep until her lids fluttered open and her gaze met mine. Shadows danced in the green depths as she looked at me. Or maybe I just imagined it because she blinked and the shadows were gone.
I scooped her into my arms and carried up the steps and into the alcove that served as our bedroom. Her head nestled against my shoulder like she was exactly where she wanted to be. That worked for me, because this was exactly where I wanted her.
With me.
I reached down and pulled the comforter and top sheet back, then eased her onto the mattress. I followed her into bed and pulled her into my arms, surprised again at how well we fit together. She snuggled against me with a sleepy sigh; within minutes, her breathing evened out and I knew she was asleep.
It wasn't until much later that I realized she had never told me what was wrong. For reasons I didn't understand, I couldn't help but wonder if she had deliberately distracted me from asking again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Morgan
I was shaking so bad that packing was taking twice as long. The shaking surprised me—I'd never been one to be so out of sorts that I physically reacted so this was new to me. While it normally wouldn't bother me too much, it bothered me now. I had neither the time to wonder about it nor the extra time to deal with it.
I needed to leave. Now.
I woke up twenty minutes ago with three absolutes whirling in my sleepy mind:
I needed to leave.
I didn't want to leave.
It was only a matter of time before Mrs. Young found me.
That last thought is what catapulted me from the warm bed in a near-panic. It was the second thought that made me hesitate, both with surprise and a fear that I knew exactly why I didn't want to leave.
And it was both of those thoughts that only made me more determined to leave. I had to, I no longer had a choice.
I tossed my flip flops on top of the small toiletries kit then looked around, wondering if I was forgetting anything. I didn't have much, which meant I couldn't really afford to leave anything behind. The only thing I hadn't packed was the silky sleep camisole I'd bought the other weekend during the unusual 'shopping spree' Addy and Jacqui had dragged me on. I'd worn it that night in the hopes of surprising Dylan, thinking he might enjoy it since it was definitely sexier than what I usually wore to bed. I wasn't even sure if he'd really seen it since we'd had that weird kind of argument/non-argument that night.
I hadn't worn it again and knew I wouldn't wear it anytime in the future. Packing it would be a waste, even if it didn't take up any room. Should I leave it behind? Throw it in the trash? Something else?
I grabbed it from the bed and carefully folded it then, for reasons that made absolutely zero sense, I walked over to Dylan's dresser and opened one of the drawers. Maybe he'd remember it, maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he wouldn't even see it. And maybe, just maybe, he'd think of me when he did see it—hopefully with a smile but more than likely with a frown, since I was leaving the way I was.
Since I was leaving, period.
I tossed the camisole in the drawer then, on an impulse I didn't stop to question, I grabbed one of Dylan's t-shirts. It was gray, with that funny bee logo emblazoned on the front circled with the words Property of New Orleans Bourdons. I held the shirt up to my nose and inhaled, imagining I could smell Dylan's essence in the soft cotton.
Before I could question exactly what I was doing, I tossed the t-shirt into my duffle bag and zipped it closed. The shirt would be entirely too big on me and a small part of me felt guilty for taking it, but I wanted something to remember Dylan by, something I could hold close to me. Technically I was stealing it but I didn't think Dylan would mind, if he even noticed.
At least, I hoped he wouldn't mind. Maybe he'd even understand.
I looked around one last time then grabbed the duffle bag and headed down the steps. There was only one bus that left for San Diego on Sundays and I'd already missed it. I figured I'd hang at the bus station if I needed to and get the morning bus tomorrow. Or maybe I could find somewhere else to hang out until then. All I knew was that I couldn't stay here. If I did, I might lose the courage to leave and I couldn't afford that.
A spurt of irrational panic flashed in my chest and I quickly swallowed it back. The feeling that time was running out had been with me for the last hour and sharpened with each passing minute. Maybe it was just nerves. Maybe it was guilt.
Maybe it was simply my heart telling me I was getting ready to make the biggest mistake of my life—
Or that I'd already made that mistake.
I'd let my defenses down, including the wall I'd carefully built around my heart over the years. And somehow, some way, Dylan had found his way in and I'd done the stupidest thing I'd ever done, in a long line of stupid things.
I'd fallen in love with Dylan.
At least, I think I loved him. I'd never loved anyone before so I had no idea how it felt but every instinct was screaming that it was the L-word. Even if it wasn't actually love, I was definitely on the fast track to falling—hard.
Under any other circumstances, it wouldn't freak me out so much...maybe. But after seeing Mrs. Young last night—
Dread washed over me at just thinking her name. I wasn't sure if she saw me, or if she even recognized me if she did—my hair was a little different and I'd been with Addy and Jacqui. I'd never been so thankful to be with other women than I had been last night, for the simple reason that all eyes focused on Jacqui wherever she went—which meant that attention wasn't focused on me.
I had a feeling that was probably just wishful thinking on my part, though. Mrs. Young had been watching me through the narrow slits of her cold eyes, like she was trying to place me. Then I saw her push away from the table and I nearly panick
ed and dragged Dylan out the door. The second-to-last thing I wanted was to come face-to-face with the woman.
And the very last thing I wanted was for my ex-fiancé's mother coming face-to-face with Dylan. My imagination had no trouble coming up with what she would say to me. If I'd been by myself, I could probably handle it. But to have her say those things in front of Dylan?
No, I couldn't chance it.
And now that she knew I was still here in New Orleans, she wouldn't stop looking for me, I was certain of it. Brandon had warned me that she could be vindictive. And controlling. And mean. Why else would he even consider a sham marriage just to appease her?
I simply couldn't risk running into her. Maybe it was cowardly on my part but I didn't think so. The survival instincts I'd honed over the years were screaming and I couldn't ignore them.
I reached the door and looked over my shoulder one last time, memorizing everything around me and wondering for the hundredth time if I should leave a note. Part of me wanted to but what could I say that would make Dylan understand?
Nothing.
Besides, he'd probably forget me. Part of me hoped he would despite the flash of hurt the thought caused—which was all the more reason to leave now.
I pulled open the door with a little more force than I had intended then almost fell backward with a small scream. Two sets of eyes stared at me then at my duffle bag then back to me—in unison. One woman wore an expression of satisfaction; the second wore an expression of surprise and dismay.
"I told you she was going to run."
Addy's narrowed gaze fixed on Jacqui then slid to me. "But she can't!"
I wasn't as surprised to see them as I should have been but that didn't mean I had time for this. An odd sense of urgency coupled with a certainty that doom was fast approaching moved me forward. I'd push past them if I had to then hope for the best.
"I need to leave."
"Why?"
"I just do." I stepped through the door and started to pull it closed behind me but Jacqui blocked me—literally. Before I knew it, she had control of my duffel bag and was forcing me back inside simply by stepping toward me.
"You're not going anywhere, cher."
"Jacqui, please. I need to leave." The desperation I felt was clear in my voice. Both women stopped to look at me—really look at me—and the concern I saw in their gazes brought tears to my eyes. I blinked them back and reached for my duffle bag. "Please."
"Not until you tell us what's going on."
"Nothing, I just—I need to leave. That's all."
Addy closed the door and leaned against it, like she thought that would somehow stop me. I could probably get past her with little trouble and I actually thought about doing exactly that—until I got a look at the determination on Jacqui's face.
I wasn't going anywhere, not unless they let me. Fine. I'd just have to do some fast-talking and convince them to do just that. "Guys, this shouldn't come as any big surprise. It's past time I leave, everyone knows that."
"Does Dylan?"
I looked over at Addy and opened my mouth to say of course, but the lie stuck in my throat. Sympathy filled her dark eyes and I thought that maybe she'd step out of the way and let me leave.
Until she spoke.
"But you love him!"
"No, I don't." My denial came out too quick, the words too sharp and high-pitched. I cleared my throat, ready to repeat them with more certainty, but Jacqui spoke over me.
"Does this have anything to do with that battle-axe you saw last night?"
I didn't bother to hide my surprise, not when Jacqui would see right through it. She waved one of her hands in the air with a quick roll of her eyes.
"Please, cher. It was pretty obvious. Now who is she?"
I hesitated, not sure how much to tell them. Maybe if they knew who she was, they'd understand and let me leave. At least, that was my hope.
"She's my ex-fiancé's mother."
"So?"
I gaped at Jacqui. "What do you mean, so?"
"Just that. He's your ex. Why would you care if you ran into her again? She's out of your life, right?"
"It's not that simple."
"And why is that?"
"Because..." I trailed off, wondering how much to tell them. Nobody knew the whole story of what had happened, why Brandon had asked me to marry him or why I couldn't go through with it. Maybe if they knew why...no, I couldn't tell them. Not without betraying Brandon's secrets. That was something I wasn't prepared to do.
"Well, cher? Why?"
I looked over at Addy, hoping she'd come to my defense. It was a futile hope because she was watching me as intently as Jacqui was, waiting for an answer. And I still didn't like the sympathy I saw in the depths of her dark eyes, or the words she had thrown at me.
But you love him!
No, I wouldn't get any help from Addy. If I was going to escape, I'd have to do it on my own.
I ran a hand through my hair, partly to stall and partly to figure out what to say. Maybe some half-truths would work. I could certainly give them details about the woman without betraying Brandon.
"I don't think she sees it that way. Me being out of her life, I mean. She's, um, vindictive. As far as she's concerned, I ruined her son and embarrassed her in front of her friends. Honestly, she's probably angrier about her own embarrassment than anything else."
"One of those, hm?"
"You have no idea. I have a feeling vindictive isn't quite strong enough to describe her."
"Fair enough."
"Good. You understand. I can leave now—"
"Not so fast, cher."
"But—"
"I understand vindictive, probably more than you do. What I don't understand is why you're afraid of her. What is it she could possibly do to you to make you want to run?"
"Especially without telling Dylan."
I frowned at Addy, wondering about her sudden obsession with Dylan's feelings. Maybe she was only guessing at things but her guesses were entirely too close to home. If anything, that made me more nervous than Jacqui's line of questions.
But Jacqui's questions were easier to answer so that was what I focused on. "I told you, she's vindictive. There's nothing more she'd like to do than get even. I have no idea how, but she will. I can't take that chance."
"But what is it she could possibly do to you?"
"Make trouble for me. Make life miserable. Harass me. She could even make trouble for—" I caught myself before I said Dylan's name but something told me it didn't matter. I had a feeling both women knew exactly what I'd been ready to say.
Jacqui's dark brows shot up in mocking disbelief. "So you're leaving Dylan in order to protect him? Hmm. How...thoughtful."
"That's not what I said."
"You didn't have to, cher, not when it was so perfectly clear in what you didn't say. Now tell me, who is this woman that you think is so powerful?"
"You don't need to know."
"Well I certainly didn't recognize her."
I looked back at Addy. "So?"
"So, she probably isn't as well connected as you think she is. I've never seen her in Daddy's social circles and Daddy knows just about everyone who's anyone."
My frown deepened as I tried to figure out what she was talking about. I was also briefly distracted by her saying Daddy and thought again about asking her why, then realized that had nothing to do with anything. "You not knowing her doesn't mean anything. It certainly doesn't mean she isn't capable of creating trouble. Trust me, she is. Of that I have no doubt."
"And you always run away from the smallest sign of trouble, is that it?"
"What? No, of course not."
"Well, you are a runaway bride. You tried to run away a few weeks ago. And now you're running again—"
"That's not the same thing. Not even close." I didn't hide my irritation at the accusation—or the fact that maybe Jacqui had a small point. I didn't like it because that wasn't who I was. I didn't run away from troubl
e—
Yet that was exactly what I was doing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Morgan
I was still trying to think of a way to defend myself against Jacqui's accusation. The idea that she—or anyone else—thought I might be taking the easy way by running away bothered me. It shouldn't...but it did.
But I wasn't going to be given a chance to explain, not if Jacqui had her way. She was still watching me with her clear gaze and I had to struggle not to squirm under her scrutiny.
"Let's forget everything else for a moment and focus on the fact that your bag is packed and you were walking out when we got here." Jacqui moved over and carefully lifted my bag, pulling it out of my reach. I didn't miss the slight rolling of her eyes and I was certain she thought I was woefully under packed and unprepared for a life on the road.
"What about it?"
"Exactly where are you planning on going, cher?"
"The bus station."
"Hmm. And what time is this bus you're so eager to catch leave?"
"It doesn't matter—"
"When, cher?"
I bit back a sigh, thought about lying, then realized that Jacqui probably already knew. After all, we'd had a similar conversation a couple of weeks ago, the first time I'd tried to leave.
"Tomorrow morning."
"And what do you plan on doing between now and then?"
"Does it matter?"
"If you think you're going to wait there then yes, it does."
"I'll be fine."
"Don't be so naive, cher. You might think you have street smarts, and maybe you even do, but you need to reconsider your plan."
"Fine. I'll figure something else out."
"I have a suggestion. I'm positive it will backfire but my conscience won't allow anything else."
I folded my arms in front of me and frowned. I wasn't really big on trust right now, especially not from the two women who were, once again, stopping me. "What?"
"And there's the sass." A wide smile spread across Jacqui's face. "There's hope for you yet."
I refused to jump at the bait—if that's what it was—and narrowed my eyes. "You said you had a suggestion?"
Troublemaker (New Orleans Bourdons Book 2) Page 13