She sucked in her breath, and a moan caught in her throat as he pressed light, teasing kisses over her cheek. “That’s a terrible line. Awful. I deserve better.”
God, he loved that prim and proper tone. Having her say dirty things to him in that voice was his secret fantasy. But the time for fun and games was over, because he had to taste her again. Now.
“I promised I wouldn’t touch you.”
She stilled under his hands. Tension crackled in the air. He waited a beat.
“I lied.”
With one firm pull, he drew her head back and crushed his lips to hers.
Cal never had a chance. She engulfed him with her scent and touch and flavor, and he surrendered to the experience without a fight. Opening her lips without hesitation, she took each thrust of his tongue with heat and passion and gave it all back. Being devoured like he was every fantasy she had, his head spun at her honest, raw reaction to his kiss. Her arms wrapped tight around his back, holding him to her; he made a primitive moan and released her head to grip her hips, pulling her hard against his erection.
She went crazy under him, rocking her hips, digging her nails into his upper shoulders, and kissing him back with a seething hunger he’d never experienced, as if she were drowning and he was the one to save her, making him feel like the fucking hero of every comic book out there.
God, he wanted more.
Swallowing her whimpers, he slid one hand under her T-shirt and hit bare skin. Thanking heaven above for the gift, he stroked her breast, tweaking a hard nipple with his thumb, cupping the glorious weight in his palm. Like he was plugged into a generator, she lit up under his touch, arching beneath every stroke until he pushed her down to the floor to lie flat, with every intention of ripping off her shirt, tugging down her panties, and taking her right here, right now, until neither of them remembered their names.
“Ah, shit! Sorry!”
The familiar male voice rang out, but it took a while for Cal to process. He was too deep in the moment, with a head stuffed with cotton and a raging erection from the woman beneath him. Nothing mattered except his readiness to dive deep and forget about anything else but claiming her for his.
But Morgan stiffened beneath him, going so still, he wondered if she’d become a statue. And then it hit him.
Son of a bitch. Tristan was home.
Slowly, he tugged down her shirt, removed his hand, and shifted so he covered most of the view. “It’s past midnight. Why are you here?”
Tristan slapped his hand over his eyes and backed away from the counter. “I’m not here. Go back to what you were doing, I didn’t see a thing. Hi, Morgan.”
Her voice came out strangled. “Hi, Tristan.”
“I came for my wine. Umm, is there leftover peach pie?”
Cal let out an irritated breath. “I ate it.”
“Dude, I only had a piece.”
“Dalton ate most of it. There’s a bag of Ruffles in the pantry. Take that instead, then go.”
His brother ducked his head to grab the bag of chips, keeping his eyes covered the whole time. This was ridiculous. The mood was completely broken, and he was screwed in an entirely new way. The bad way. Not the good way.
“Is there dip?”
“Tristan!”
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m gone. Carry on.”
His brother disappeared with the chips and a bottle of very expensive red. Okay, how was he gonna save this situation? “Sweetheart, let me—”
She threw her hand up in the air, halting him midsentence. “No, Cal, don’t. I’ve gotten arrested for prostitution, thought I hurt a dog, made out with my business partner on the kitchen floor, and found myself half-naked in a compromising position by your brother. I’m exhausted, embarrassed, confused, and still turned on from one of the best kisses I’ve ever had. I’m going to bed. Alone. See you in the morning.”
Pivoting on her bare heel, head held high like Queen Elizabeth, she stalked out and left him alone.
Cal grinned. Best kiss ever, huh?
Oh, yeah. Morgan Raines was gonna be a hell of a lot of trouble. But also a hell of a lot of fun.
chapter twelve
Morgan dragged in a deep breath and climbed out of the car. Gripping her clipboard way too tight, she tried to calm her galloping heart. With each step toward Caleb, the events of that night roared in her memory in vivid, blasting neon.
His body pinning hers. Legs tangled, mouths fused, that delicious pounding heat between her legs that drowned out every reasonable thought. She’d wanted to give him anything and everything, everywhere and every way. When was the last time she’d ever felt so needed? Like she was the only thing in the world that would slake his hunger? That type of power was addictive. And it had only been a kiss. If he took her to bed, would she lose not only her body but her mind? Soul? And, God forbid, her heart?