Everywhere and Every Way(51)

"Not done."

He flipped her over. Placed her on her knees. And plunged into her pussy.

Her scream was heaven to his ears. Grasping her hips, he pumped in and  out, holding her at an angle where her G-spot was stimulated. Sensitive  from her last two orgasms, she shook beneath him, pleasure and pain  twisting together to give her the sweet edge he wanted, and with one  final buck, he owned her final orgasm.

This time Cal let himself go over with her. Body stiff, he threw his  head back and let go, spilling his seed and giving himself up to the raw  tendrils of satisfaction seeping through him. He collapsed on top of  her, catching his breath, and managed to roll to the side to avoid  crushing her.

She buried herself into his arms, limbs entangled with his, cheek resting on his chest.

Finally she spoke in a dazed slur.

"Anytime you want to go drinking, feel free. The benefits are amazing."

He laughed and hugged her close.


"I need aspirin."

"I need more coffee. Why'd you drink the last cup?"

"Dude, I gave you the bigger mug. My head is throbbing, and all I could find is Tylenol. I need something stronger."         

     



 

Tristan tried to snort but ended up rubbing his temple. "Maybe if you  didn't drink your coffee with all that froufrou cream you like, you'd  get more of an effect."

Dalton glared from across the island. "Really? You're gonna try and pick  a fight with me over cream in my coffee? And you call me immature."

Morgan tamped down a chuckle and slapped down two pills in front of  Dalton. "Take these. They work." Dalton quickly chugged them down with  water. "I'll make pancakes and bacon. There's another pot of coffee  brewing."

"Yes!" Dalton softly cheered. "No eggs, though-

I'll puke."

"Can I have my bacon extra crispy?" Tristan piped up.

"Yes, but you both have to clean up the kitchen. I hate dishes."

"Deal," they both agreed.

Morgan found the frying pan and set out the ingredients. Humming under  her breath, she maneuvered around the kitchen in bare feet, yoga pants,  and a pink T-shirt. A few weeks ago, she had begun stuffing some extra  clothes in the top drawer of the bedroom bureau. Just in case. She tried  not to think too much of it, but slowly realized the spare outfit had  been joined by bras, panties, and pj's. After all, Morgan never knew  when Cal's brothers would be around. She refused to be caught in the  walk of shame. Balin and Gandalf lay in front of her, hoping to catch a  crumb or two. She'd already let them out and fed them breakfast.

"I can't believe you got skunked," Dalton said. "Is it wrong to tell you  I'm glad I went to bed before that incident? Washing those mutts is a  nightmare."

"It wasn't a highlight of my life," she said. "And I don't think I'll ever look at tomato juice the same."

Tristan shuddered. "You're a trooper, Morgan. Thanks for driving us home last night, too."

"I'm glad I can help. I'll take you both over so you can pick up your cars this morning."

Dalton lit up. "Nice. Maybe the bartender will be there."

"Her name is Raven. She's the owner. Sydney and I met her a few weeks ago. She also makes a mean cocktail."

"Just my type of woman."

Tristan shook his head. "As long as she's not involved in building any houses or selling real estate, go for it."

Morgan wondered if she should tell them about her strange reaction once  she heard their name, but Cal entered the kitchen and wiped out any  other thought in her brain. Struck mute, she took in his rock-hard abs  and his low-slung sweats that only emphasized every delicious muscle on  his body. He caught her looking and gave her a slow, smug smile. Morgan  turned back to her skillet, ignoring his knowing laugh. "Morning." He  grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee. "How you ladies feeling today?"

"We'll live," Dalton muttered. "Let's just say I won't be friends with Jack for a while."

Tristan laughed, then winced. "Morgan's taken pity on us. She's cooking some breakfast."

"Thank God. You two bozos need to learn to cook."

Dalton rolled his eyes. "I can grill and put cold cuts on bread. I'm good."

"Hey, I cook," Tristan said. "I happened to take a course at the  culinary arts school last year on French food. But I need to feel  inspired."

Cal muttered something into his mug. "French food to go with fancy  French wine, bro? Next thing you'll be crooking your pinkie finger while  you drink your tea."

"Fuck you," Tristan said mildly.

Morgan fought a giggle and began sliding pancakes onto a plate. "First  stack's ready. Bacon's almost done. And if you don't leave one last mug  of coffee for me, you'll never get this again."

The guys began munching, and Morgan enjoyed the scene before her, warmth  buzzing through her veins. God, it felt good to be with these men. She  cared about them, on and off the job site, and wanted them to be close  again. She'd never had this before. After she left her parents, she'd  been a bit of a nomad, chasing the next job and next location. Being in  their kitchen, cooking breakfast, laughing at their banter-all of it  struck her with a sense of rightness.

What was happening to her?

She poured the batter onto the hot pan and studied the bubbles popping  up. Things had shifted between them. It wasn't just the sex. It was  almost as if by admitting she'd been afraid of him pulling back, she  strengthened the bond between them. Emotion was now involved, and she  was caught up in the intricate web of pure want and need for Caleb  Pierce. Her heart had galloped ahead and caught up with her body. She  was falling hard, and she had to make a decision.         

     



 

To tell him the truth.

Time was ticking, and they had only three months to complete and deliver the Rosenthals' house.

He deserved to know she couldn't have children. He needed to know how  important her job was, and the demands of constant travel. He was owed  the right to choose the life he wanted, and it might not include her.

The word love had not passed between them, but it was there. It seethed  beneath the surface, waiting for the time to spill from their lips.

She shook off her thoughts at the smell of burning batter and slid the  last stack of pancakes onto a plate along with the bacon. They were  talking business. "Paint is scheduled to be here tomorrow," Tristan  noted, cutting his pancakes into perfect bite-size pieces. "Sod is  ordered for the landscaping, and I've got Brian coming in with the trees  and bushes. The rock wall should be done by then, too, and then we just  need to finish the covered deck."

Cal shoved a few pieces in his mouth at once. "Thank God we don't have  to deal with the pool problem. The sauna and hot tub will keep them  happy, and if they're still here in the spring, we can do a quick  install."

"Smart," Dalton commented. He ate with more casualness, stopping often  to nibble on bacon or take a swig of coffee. "Did you put that in the  contract, Morgan?"

"Damn right I did. Pierce owes us a pool if we decide on it. No reason to take that on now, and the Rosenthals agreed."

"Appliances should be installed by end of the week. When are the movie screen and chairs coming?" Tristan asked.

"I'm putting in the call to check today," Morgan noted, finally sliding  her own pancake onto a plate. "But I need those red velvet cushions and  tapestries here. Tell me they're not back-ordered. Please."

Tristan waved his hand in the air. "I took care of it."

"I love you."

"Hey!" Cal swung his gaze and gave a mock glare at his brother. "Don't mess with my woman."

Morgan couldn't help the silly grin that curved her lips. "Neanderthal," she whispered teasingly.

He winked.

She finished eating and scooped up her cell phone. "I have to make some  calls, y'all. Oh, Dalton, I need you to look at that grandfather clock I  bought from your shed. I want to restore it and carve in the  Rosenthals' initials for the numbers."

"Nice. Cal made you pay for that stuff?" He turned and shot his brother a  look. "You couldn't even give it to her for free, dude?"

Cal shrugged. "It's business."

Morgan laughed and walked out of the kitchen. "Wouldn't want it any other way," she called out.

She strolled out with a light heart and a promise to come clean with Cal.

Soon.


Cal took his coffee out to the front porch and sat down in his favorite  wicker rocker. The dogs dropped by his feet, their heads resting on each  ankle, and he gazed out over the sprawling acres of lawn spreading as  far as he could see.

He was in love with her.

Should've probably told her. He'd been a bit caught up in the sex and  the need to mark her. Then she collapsed into sleep so fast, he didn't  feel like it was the right time. He'd tell her, though. She needed to  know. Cal wasn't sure if she was ready to say the words back to him. The  woman kept her emotions tight, but the way she had looked at him last  night and confessed she didn't want him to hurt gave him a clue.