Morrison (Caldwell Brothers)

“I’m broken, Morrison.” The admission comes out before I can stop myself.

He reaches over and pulls me onto his lap. “Baby, you’re a lot of things, but broken isn’t one of them.” With his thumb, he traces my lips. “You’re playing the hand you were dealt—no tricks, no tells, just taking life head-on. You have courage, fight, and resiliency.” He stops and looks into my eyes in a way that makes me feel like he’s trying to reach my soul. “You got heart, little momma. You got more love in you for that little girl than even the Queen of Spades had for her Jacks, and that’s saying something. Let yourself have something good, Hailey . . . for you and for little chick.”

I have no words to reply with. None. The man has turned me into a pile of mush, and, at the same time, held me firm. Is this what life with Morrison Caldwell is like? Is he really my safe place to fall?

Leaning in, I kiss him softly. Leisurely, I explore his lips as he opens his mouth to let my tongue invade. Slowly, I treasure him and all that he’s given to me tonight. When I pull away, he smiles at me in a way that is deliciously Morrison.

“Well, little momma, you’ve had your bedtime story, so now let’s tuck you in.”

“Is that so? What had you telling that story at that moment?” My curiosity is back.

He laughs softly. “Baby, I tell little chick that story every night I’m with her, once she’s sound asleep and we’ve completed the three must-reads of the evening.”

I arch an eyebrow at him.

“She told me her perfect daddy would read her two more every night after we finish the first. Well, her perfect man may read three, but I do four. Call me an overachiever.” He winks. “Four aces in a deck. Four stories keep our little girl happy. Four is a lucky number, little momma.” With that, he scoops me up and takes me to my room.

Without hesitation, I pull him onto the bed with me. Rather than sleep, he gives me four orgasms that are sure to have me remembering this night vividly for a long time to come.

He gives me good. Somehow, this man has made his way into my life, into my heart, and given me more in these few months than I had had in my entire life. Can it last? Can I hold on to him? It’s taken me a lot to realize that, more than anything, I want to have this with him. The deck is in my hand, the game is Texas Hold’em, and I plan to hold him for as long as I can.

Chapter Nineteen

Fuck me, I think as I sit up long after she has fallen asleep while I watched her. Peaceful, beautiful, and satisfied.

No sass, either.

I close my eyes for a minute, still thinking about this little momma who thinks she has to be all badass unless she’s with little chick—or I have my hands on her. Never before in my life have I encountered someone who falls almost limp at my touch.

At first I thought it was all me, but then I figured it was circumstantial, because that’s how she’s had it—no choice. With that realization, the ego seriously deflated, but it’s back now, all amped up on platinum and the knowledge that she truly feels it. She knows I am gonna give it to her. Hell, I’ll give it to her over and over before taking mine. That’s sexy as fuck.

I stand up, and the fucking air mattress acts like a damn teeter-totter, with her on the down side.

Her eyes spring open as she jumps, and I snag her arm. Then she starts shaking and trying to catch her breath, scared. I sit down really quickly and grab her, to make sure she’s awake and knows she’s okay, and that turns out to be a bad idea too.

Little momma is like popcorn on an open fire.

“Hailey,” I say as a grab her.

“What the hell is going on?” she gasps.

“Christ, are you all right; you’re shaking.”

“Am I all right? No. I just . . . I just . . .”

I can’t help smiling because, aside from it scaring the hell out of her, that shit was comical.

She looks at me like I’m crazy, and then I see a smile spread.

“You got your ass kicked by this damn air mattress. You need a damn bed.”

“Marisa needs a headboard before I get a bed.”

“Babe, she has a mattress, box spring, and a damn bed frame. I think you put her first already, and it’s time you get a mattress. Not that doing you on this wasn’t a cool experience, but we ended up on the floor and—”

“Fine, point taken.”

“King-sized bed.”

“Queen,” she counters.