answering machine or a cell phone. He’d call back later… but that meant waiting to cover
Morgan’s tempting form.
At the back of the cabin, Jack paused, listening to the bayou, watching alligators slosh
into the water and disappear beneath the murky surface. Cicadas sang the last of the
night’s song as dawn approached. Even in the February chill, moist air clung to
everything.
This place had always represented peace to him. Not today. In the last few months
since Brice had given the cabin to him, he’d made some modifications and upgrades—
really made it his. It was the closest thing to a home he had. He rarely brought anyone
here. He meant to…but in the end, he hid this place from submissives and all but his
closest friends. So why had he brought Morgan here so readily?
Not looking too hard for the answer, Jack peered at the video equipment well hidden
by the trees and the eaves. Looked good, functional, as it scanned the area behind the
cottage. Then he continued on, trudging around the corner of the little house.
Flickering golden light emanated from the little window in the middle of the wall.
Morgan was in the bathroom and had found the candles. What she hadn’t done was
completely close the shutters. She’d tried, but the broken one wouldn’t extend over the
window.
On quiet feet, Jack approached the small glass pane. He shouldn’t look; he knew that.
But he didn’t have a lot of scruples where she was concerned.
Edging closer, Jack peered in, looking into the narrow bathroom. Steam rose from the
claw-footed tub. Beside it, Morgan ran a hand under the water stream. Apparently
satisfied with the temperature, she set the plug in the tub then backed away.
Her hands settled on the first button of Alyssa’s leather getup. At a push of her
thumb, the button came loose. A second followed suit. The soft, rounded edged of her
cleavage and a hint of the black bra he hadn’t forgotten peeked out to torment him.
A sweat broke out across Jack’s chest and back. His cock, which he’d just managed to
get under control, rose up swiftly to full staff and saluted the view.
But the view only improved. A third button, centered around her naval, came loose
from its mooring. As the fourth and final button came undone, so did Jack’s ability to
breathe.
Morgan peeled the garment off and laid it on the counter. He glued his gaze to her
slender torso and high, round breasts as she reached behind her to unfasten the tight
mini skirt.
With an alluring wriggle, a sexy shimmy, she peeled the garment down the sweet
curve of her hips and past firm thighs.
When she stood again and set the skirt aside, the only thing stopping him from fully
taking in the pale temptation of her body was a lacy bra that did nothing to hide her hard
nipples, and a teeny-tiny thong.
Damn, was it possible to have a fatal heart attack at thirtyone?
He should walk away now. Focus on surveillance until he knew she was safe. Stop
fixating on a woman he planned to fuck once…just so Brandon could appreciate the pain
and rage a man felt when he knew his woman had surrendered willingly to another hard
dick.
But walking away from Morgan was easier said than done. At this point, he couldn’t
find the will to try.
Drawing in a shaky breath, he watched as she reached behind her to unclasp the bra.
The movement thrust her breasts forward, accentuating their round, firm shape and
those pretty nipples he thirsted to suck into his mouth.
A moment later, they came into view. Plump, soft, blushing pink, and swollen, they
beckoned like little bits of heaven topping the pale beauty of her breasts, which
shimmered with dancing, golden candlelight. He grabbed the ledge outside the window
and let out a ragged breath.
How the hell was he going to keep from fucking her into oblivion in the next ten
minutes?
Before he could answer that question, she slid the little black thong off and tossed it
away, revealing the last of her secrets to him. And boy, was it a doozie.
The tiny patch of hair covering Morgan’s pussy was fiery red.
Now Jack knew how a bull felt when someone waved something red in its face:
enflamed, ready to charge.
Toro!
He braced his hands against the side of the cabin to steady himself as Morgan
stepped into the tub and sank into the steaming water, eyes closed.
Damn, he had to stop spying on her like some loser sicko who couldn’t persuade a
woman to undress for him. And he would…as soon as she stopped slashing water over
her shoulders, on her breasts. The water beaded up on her creamy skin, running in
rivulets that dripped from succulent nipples. He’d love to lick her up with his tongue.
The sun edged up over the horizon behind Jack, making it harder to see inside the