“I bet she will too.” Those two were so in love it was almost sickening.
Mia sighed. “I hope they have a big wedding. We could be bridesmaids.”
“And wear a hideous dress walking on the arm of some creep? No way.” Morgan had experienced being a bridesmaid in a few weddings. All of them near disastrous in one way or another. Bad dress, bad partner walking down the aisle—oh and the time she had to round up the small children scattering rose petals along the aisle.
One of them had ended up puking rose petals on the hem of her dress. It had been a minor nightmare.
“Please. Jenna would make sure we look fabulous and all of Brett’s friends are hunky firefighters. We’d be walking on the arm of a stud and you know it.”
The idea of hanging out with a hot firefighter would’ve literally lit her fire only a week ago. Now she wasn’t interested.
She wanted Evan.
“I’m not interested in hunky firefighters.”
Mia smirked and shook her head. “Aw, you are so cute. You really have it bad, don’t you?”
Morgan shrugged. Should she admit just how bad she had it? She didn’t want to. Not yet.
She wanted to savor it a little longer. The giddy excitement filling her over seeing him later, the rush of nerves and lust at the memory of what happened between them last night in his truck. His hands all over her, his mouth fused with hers, their tongues dancing. The slick, delicious slide, the taste of him, the rough sounds he made, his heated breath.
Oh, God. She really, really had it bad.
Evan was a patient man. His mother had praised him for that particular trait when he was young and dealing with his always impatient and bossy older brother. As life went on, he’d waited for the best opportunities to fall into his lap. He would always bide his time and, when the moment was right, he jumped on it. The method had worked for him his entire life.
Tonight, at this very moment, with the beautiful and obviously nervous Morgan at his side, he struggled. Forget the formality and the carefulness and the not wanting to scare the hell out of her. Patience sucked.
He wanted her.
Naked and beneath him, her arms wrapped around him, her fingers stroking his skin. He wanted to hear her murmur hot words in his ear, wanted to feel the silky clutch of her around his cock, wanted to come inside her until he was spent and bone weary. He wanted to hold her close and fall asleep with her in his arms.
Instead he tiptoed around her, not wanting to make her even more nervous than she already was. He’d arrived with two bags full of snacks from the supermarket and she’d laughed in delight at his choices, saying she rarely indulged in such a junk fest. Yet she’d dove right in, opening the bag of tortilla chips and pouring salsa into a small bowl so they could share.
They picked an action flick to watch on pay-per-view but he couldn’t pay attention. He was too enraptured with her scent, the heat radiating from her lithe body, the way she curled her fingers into the pillow she clutched in front of her, especially during a particularly tense scene. He sat on the other end of the couch, not too close but not so far away it was obvious he was trying to keep his hands off her. He didn’t want to look too pushy, too much like an animal. He’d already proven that last night when he mauled her in his truck.
Hell, he really wanted to maul her again. Forget trying to be the good guy. One look at her in those soft black pants that clung to her legs like a second skin and a pale yellow T-shirt and he was a goner.
The movie was over and he followed her into the kitchen, the fresh floral smell of her hair making his eyes cross. She grabbed the salsa container from the refrigerator and popped the lid, ready to pour the rest of the salsa they didn’t finish back into the plastic bowl.
“I liked that movie.” She opened a drawer and pulled a spoon out of it, then began scraping the leftover salsa back into the container. “I’m not usually one for nonstop action, but it was good.”
“Yeah, it was.” If asked at gunpoint what the plot of the movie was, he couldn’t remember it. He’d been too busy watching her.
He was still watching her. She was his newest and most exciting form of entertainment.
“Should we get another movie? Do you maybe want something else to eat? You brought enough to feed an army.” She smiled and snapped the lid back onto the salsa and he stepped toward her, grabbing for the grocery sack still sitting on the kitchen island so he could take a peek inside.
Maybe eating would take his mind off her.
Fat chance.
She went behind him, going for the refrigerator and he turned around at the very moment she reached out with the salsa. Her hand went into his chest and the lid plopped off, spilling salsa down the front of his shirt.
“Oh, my God! Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz. You must think I’m an imbecile.” She wiped at his T-shirt, drops of salsa falling onto the tile floor and he stood there, both bemused and aroused. His shirt was soaked and the spicy smell of the spices, tomatoes and onions filled his nostrils.
Morgan ran to the sink and grabbed a dry washcloth. Turning on the water, she ran it under the spigot, talking a mile a minute, apologizing again and again.
“I swear you always walk into trouble when you’re with me. Or I walk into trouble. This is so not good. I ruined your shirt, didn’t I?”