She frickin’ loved it.
There was nothing to think about or plan when Cal kissed her. The only thing Morgan needed to do was give him what he wanted, and she was rewarded. Rough, capable hands stroked her cheeks, controlling the angle and thrust of his tongue, sipping every last drop from her like the sweetest whiskey he’d ever tasted. Morgan arched up to the demand, her breasts tight and tingly from the delicious pressure of his chest dragging against her nipples. The thickness of his erection notched tight between her thighs, causing her clit to throb and ache for better pressure. She craved the feel of his fingers sliding inside her slick folds, his hot tongue against her breasts. As if he caught her unspoken thoughts, the kiss turned a bit wild, a bit savage, and instead of pulling back to reclaim control, Morgan surrendered without a regret, letting her body take the lead.
With a low growl of triumph, he picked her up and held her against the door. Her legs wrapped around his hips and she thrust all ten fingers into his already messy hair, holding him still and drowning in his kiss. His hips rocked back and forth, teasing her with what was to come, until she lost it and clamped her teeth down in a savage bite, arching her hips for more.
His head shot up. Charcoal eyes simmered with banked fire. “Did you just bite me?” he growled against her lips, lifting her up a few inches only to control her slow movement downward. Frustrated already, she wriggled her hips for more pressure.
“You deserved it,” she shot back.
Pure lust glittered on his carved features, sending a jolt through her bloodstream. “I damn well knew there was a hellcat under all that white. There’ll be payback for that. For now, hang on.”
“I already am—oh!”
He slung her over his shoulder like a real caveman and stalked up the stairs as if she were the weight of a feather. Morgan knew she had a healthy body with curves, and the idea that he took her size with no hesitation or care made her feel feminine, delicate, and very, very wanted.
She caught a flash of tigerwood floors and the scent of lemon polish and got dumped in the middle of a king-size bed. Morgan sank into a ton of fluffy pillows and fought her way to a half-sitting position to give him a piece of her mind.
Then stopped.
He’d taken off his shirt. Ripped off was a better term, since the material barely survived his savage striptease. Morgan looked at the mass of bunched muscles defining his pecs, the washboard abs from hard, sweaty work instead of a climate-controlled gym. Skin baked brown from the sun, a light dusting of gold-brown hair scattered over his chest and narrowed to a mouthwatering line disappearing past his waistband. One snap of his fingers released the button on his denim cutoffs. Never taking his gaze from her face, he approached the bed, studying her as if going over his plan to ravish her.
In that moment, Morgan melted like hot lava, helpless to prevent anything and everything he wanted to do with her. Those eyes gleamed with raw satisfaction, catching her innate surrender as she knelt on the bed and made no move to stop him. No move to escape.
“Do you know how many bad things I want to do to you?”
She shuddered. Licked her lips. “Then do them.”
A vicious curse escaped his lips. And he was upon her.
Morgan never had a chance. This was no slow, step-by-step seduction plan. It was as if the moment they touched, only instinct survived, a desperate need to connect in every primitive, physical form. Her blouse vanished in seconds, her bra was flicked open, and then his soft lips closed over her nipple, tugging, licking, sucking. She writhed underneath him and pulled down the zipper of his shorts, shoving her fingers into the opening with little finesse to stroke and cup the hard, thick length of his cock.
He uttered her name like a prayer, but instead of getting naked fast, he kept his solid attention on her breasts. Tugging her nipples in a rhythm to his own private melody, he teased and tortured until her breasts were so sensitive, a cry trapped in the back of her throat. Pain and pleasure blurred into a fine line. “You’re so damn pretty,” he said, watching her reaction as he licked the tight tips. “You taste like coconut cream pie.” She hissed as he worked his mouth lower, swiping his tongue over the curve of her belly, fingers curled around the band of her proper linen pants. “I can’t wait to taste you. Make you come. Fuck you so hard, you’ll never remember another man’s name.”
Arousal trickled down her thigh. Already poised on the edge of orgasm just from his words, Morgan panted, fighting for sanity. “I can’t take much more.”
“Neither can I. Lift up.”
Her hips rose, and as he wriggled her pants down her hips, her mind suddenly sprung to awareness, reminding her of the final desperate measure she’d taken to make sure she didn’t sleep with Caleb Pierce tonight.
“Wait! Oh, my God, please wait!”
Morgan shot up. Cal tilted his head back. Pupils dilated with lust, mouth damp from kissing her, his gorgeous hair mussed up from her fingers raking through the strands, he was sex incarnate and every woman’s fantasy. “You okay, baby?” he asked roughly. His breath came in ragged pants, but he held himself under control, gauging if she was about to tell him she had changed her mind or wanted him to stop.
“No,” she moaned. His fingers tangled with hers, and he waited patiently. In that moment, her respect and trust for this man flooded her in waves. Even with a throbbing erection and a brain probably fogged by arousal, he stopped. He pushed when it was right, yet was man enough to back off at the first cry of no. He’d never do anything she didn’t want, and that made Morgan ache for him even more.