"God, you're sweet." He cupped her cheeks and tilted her head back. "A proper lady in the parlor and a-"
"Don't you dare say a whore in the bedroom or I'll give you a black eye."
His lips twitched. "I was going to say a hellcat. A goddess. A sensual, gorgeous woman I'm currently so hard for, I can't see straight." He pressed against her. "Want to help me out here?" he murmured.
She gave a sexy little moan. Already her body softened and her musky arousal drifted to his nostrils. "See, this is why sex and business is a dangerous combination. I can't think when I'm around you. I want to cancel all of our appointments and stay in bed with you until you're out of my system."
"Oh, baby, you can't say that stuff to me and escape unscathed." His mouth covered hers in a deep, drugging kiss, until she stood on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around him, clinging tight. He thrust his tongue in the delicious, wet cave of her mouth, drunk on her taste and her smell, wanting nothing more than to bury himself inside her again and again. Their dance of intimacy last night raged to life, and their clothes suddenly drifted off, and he lowered her to the kitchen floor, where they had shared their first kiss.
"I just showered," she said breathlessly. "I used your razor. I hope that's okay."
"No. From now on, razors are banned. I loved the rough scratch of your legs rubbing my ass as I fucked you. So hot."
"Oh!" Her cheeks colored. "You shouldn't-you shouldn't talk like that!"
He loved her obvious arousal and shy demeanor that fell away under his touch. "Then shut me up." He captured a throaty moan when he kissed her, his tongue diving deep and gathering her heady taste.
"We shouldn't do this," Morgan murmured, her teeth clamping down on his bottom lip. "I'm late. And we're on the floor again. What if your brothers come in?" But she didn't pause, curling her hot fingers around his hard length, squeezing mercilessly until he almost came in her hand. Oh, God, she was naked and so perfect. Tight rosy-red nipples and white skin. Full curves and sloping planes he couldn't wait to explore again. Damp golden curls hiding her sweet pussy. His fingers danced over her swollen clit, parted her slick lips, and tested her readiness. She cried out his name, sounding sweeter than a symphony.
"My brothers will not be interrupting us this morning."
Her hips arched off the floor. "This is not good."
"How does that feel?"
"So good. Don't stop, yes, oh, God, right there!"
He dragged her legs wider apart. His thumb flicked over her hard bud while he took possession of her mouth, swallowing her sounds. He was ready to plunge and claim her like a wild thing, when his brain dully latched onto a thought. "Condom," he ground out. "I need a condom. In my pants. Reach back."
Her arm frantically searched around, and finally her fingers closed around the fabric. He got out the packet, ripped it with his teeth, sheathed himself, and dove home.
Her body gripped him like a hot vise, squeezing him so damn good, he could've fucking wept. She bucked under him with her own needs, and gripping her hips, he took her hard and fast, pushing her into climax without pause, drinking in her satisfied screams and the look of shattering pleasure on her face. His balls tightened, and Cal let himself go, emptying his seed with a hoarse shout of satisfaction, pumping his hips to the very last second until he was completely drained.
Rolling to his side so he didn't crush her, he leaned over and kissed her. She kissed him back with a sweetness he was already addicted to. "Did I hurt you?"
Morgan gave a half laugh. "God, no. But you might have some explaining to do." She motioned to the right. When he glanced over, Balin and Gandalf were sitting side by side, watching the scene with pure doggy sadness. "I suddenly feel like an exhibitionist."
He laughed. As if it was the signal everything was now okay, the dogs jumped up and began licking his back. A wet nose by his ass sent him stumbling up with a yell, and when Morgan fell into a fit of giggles, he grabbed her and tickled her relentlessly as punishment.
"Uncle, uncle!" she screamed, her naked body writhing in his lap. He finally relented and she slumped on top of him. Cal wrapped his arms around her back and cradled her. His hands stroked her soft skin. Her breath drifted over his cheek. The scent of their lovemaking hung heavily in the air. He clung to that perfect moment, with everything he valued surrounding him, and a quietness in his soul he rarely experienced. His original plan to keep things cool crumbled like ash.
"I want you," he said softly.
She sighed against him. "You had me."
"I want more of you. I don't want to push or have a big analytical discussion that freaks you out. I don't want promises of what happens after the house is built. I just want to spend time with you. We have four months. Will you give me that and see what happens?"
Cal held his breath and hoped he wouldn't regret the move. Instead of bluffing, he'd laid out all his chips and called her out. Half of him wondered if she'd retreat behind her wall and he'd spend another few weeks trying to scale past her defenses. There was something bigger than her fear of mixing business with pleasure. There was a secret behind her eyes that she protected at all costs. Cal respected secrets, but he couldn't let her give up this connection. It was too rare to throw away without delving deeper.
He watched the emotions flicker over her face. Her eyes darkened. "Do you want to tell anyone?"
"As long as you're with me, we can play it any way. Whatever you're more comfortable with. Though I think it will be easier to just tell the truth. I have no doubt you can handle any bullshit with aplomb. Or I can just beat them up."
A smile touched her swollen lips. "Four months. As boyfriend and girlfriend?"
He groaned. "That's awful. How about a monogamous affair?"
"You're so sophisticated."
He grinned. She wasn't leaping off him and racing out the door. For now, it was enough for him. "We have a deal?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Now, that's awful. We gonna shake on it?"
"No."
Slowly realization dawned, and she looked down. "Oh, my. How do you do that so fast? We can't. We're really late. I need clothes and to wash up and to-oh, God, yes."
Cal covered her body with his, took her mouth, and finalized the deal.
chapter fifteen
Morgan walked into a house that was beginning to resemble a real home. For the past few weeks, progress had raced forward with few disruptions. Dalton created a miracle by soothing the inspector's daughter and didn't even have to promise her a ring. Liquid insulation and drywall were done, and exterior finishes were almost complete. The mix of brick and stone gave the house a luxurious feel, using an almost crisscross effect to impress onlookers.
Her low heels echoed in the silence as she took in the sweeping archways, circular staircase, and open hallway floating over the main living area. Once again she gave Brady props for seeing something no one else could. He had a vision she'd love to work with again on other projects. She made her way upstairs, stepping around power tools, varnish tables, and a mess of equipment. Cal liked a clean site at the end of the day, but since they were pulling a long weekend to work on trim and cabinetry, he'd allowed the crew to be a bit more casual, especially since the actual owners weren't here.
Morgan floated through each room, relishing the quiet while the sun slowly sank. Usually she thrived in chaos, from the loud music, hammering, mingling voices, and endless array of strangers in and out on a daily basis. But now was when the magic began. Her gaze swept over the empty space, picturing design and moldings, furnishings and layout. Each room told its own story, depending on the patron or the guest. She'd never failed before. She didn't intend to start now.
A prickle of worry poked at her. Between the Barn and Cal's secret shed of treasures, she'd been working with Dalton to finish some items and pick out her centerpieces. Morgan stepped into the master bedroom. This would be her masterpiece. She'd scored a vintage brass headboard for the king-size bed, seeing the Rosenthal's private oasis as a luxurious intimate space. With the blackberry back walls, lace curtains, vintage French furniture, and velvet fainting couch in the coolest of silvers already in place, Morgan intended to interweave shades of violet with silver and give the room a pampered feel with just a touch of masculinity to keep it from being too girly.
High ceilings screamed for a chandelier dripping with crystals. The doors leading out to the private rooftop balcony would slide rather than open like French doors, allowing only a whisper of sound and shadowed silk screens. She peeked into the bath, which would have a fireplace, remote controls, and a spa shower, but her crown jewel was the claw-foot tub perched high on a pedestal of rose quartz, along with the green lamp Cal still hated.