Buckhorn Beginnings (36 page)

“I don't need to have an accounting for past lovers, Malone.” He growled those words against her ear, then added, “I don't care about any of that.”

She wriggled loose so she could see him. “But that's just it. I don't have much of an accounting to give. Not because I'm so particular, and not because I think it's wrong. It's because no one ever really made me want him. Not the way you do.”

Emotion nearly clogged his throat. Morgan hugged her right off her feet. “You don't have to worry, baby. I'll take care of you. I won't hurt you.”

She pushed against his shoulders. “Morgan, you don't understand.”

Morgan lowered her to the floor with him so that they faced each other on their knees. Misty's eyes
were dark and wide and even in the dim light he could see her excitement. He slipped his hand under the hem of her sweatshirt and stroked her bare waist. Very softly, he said, “Explain it to me, then.”

Morgan hoped she was about to give him a clue to her feelings. She hadn't balked at the idea of helping him decorate, but neither had she seemed to realize why he wanted her help. And his comment about kids had gone completely over her head: in order for him to have those three kids, he'd need her cooperation, because no other woman would do.

She hesitated, her chest rising and falling in fast breaths, then she blurted, “I want to get my fill of you.”

A wave of lust washed over him, making him tremble. That was not what he'd been expecting, or even hoping for.
But it might do.

“You're so open about sex and how you feel,” Misty explained, “that I don't have to worry about my old inhibitions or any of that stuff. I don't have to worry about what you'll think of me, or if I'll offend you.” She touched his face with a trembling hand. “I want to do everything to you that I've been imagining doing. I want to let go completely.”

Morgan swallowed hard, struggling to come up with a coherent reply.

It wasn't necessary. Misty launched herself at him, her hands holding his ears while she kissed him hungrily. He felt her small tongue in his mouth, felt her sharp little teeth nip his bottom lip. With a harsh groan, he rolled to his back, keeping her pinned
against his chest, and she touched him all over, her hands busy and curious and bold.

He thought of all the things he'd meant to say to her, but at the moment, none of them seemed important.

Morgan made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. She didn't care if she amused him. “I've wanted you for so long,” she told him between kisses. “It's awful to want someone that bad.”

“Tell me about it.” He worked her sweatshirt up until he could pull it over her head. She lifted her arms to help him, not feeling a single twinge of shyness. Not with Morgan.

As soon as the shirt was out of the way, Morgan reached for her. His hands were so large and rough and hot, and she moaned as he cuddled her breasts in his palms. His thumbs stroked over her nipples and she felt wild at the sweet ache his touch caused. “This is almost scary.”

“No.” Morgan brought her back down for another kiss, but she dodged him.

“I want your shirt off, too.” He was such a big hulk that there was no way she could get his clothes off him without his cooperation. She slid to the side and tugged his shirt free of his jeans. Morgan curled upward, making the muscles in his stomach do interesting things, and he threw the shirt off. She'd seen his chest many times, but now was different. Now she was allowed to touch and taste and have her way with him.

Misty attacked the snap on his jeans.

“Slow down, babe.”

“No, I don't want to. I kept telling myself I couldn't do this, but then I realized there was no way I could
not
do it. I want you too much. I doubt I'll ever meet another man who makes me feel this way.”

“Damn right you won't.” Morgan caught her hands and pulled them away from his zipper. “Kiss me again.”

She gladly complied. And while she was kissing him, licking his mouth, tasting his heat and feeling the dampness of his tongue, the smoothness of his teeth, Morgan rolled her to her back. The plush carpeting cushioned her.

“I don't want to hurt you, Malone.”

She pulled him closer, breathing deeply of his scent. “You won't.”

“The baby…”

Everything seemed to go still with his words. Morgan loomed over her, heat pulsing off him, his dark blue eyes burning hot, his hair mussed. There was so much concern and tenderness in his gaze that she felt tears well in her eyes. Misty touched his cheek, then his wide, hard chest. She let one finger drift over a small brown nipple and heard his sharp intake. “I want you naked, Morgan.”

His head dropped forward and he labored for breath.

“You won't hurt me, I promise.” She watched the way his wide shoulders flexed, how the muscles in his neck corded. “I've been thinking about this all day, and if I'm going to do this—”

His gaze snapped to hers.
“You are.”

“—then I want to do everything. Why take a risk unless you make it worthwhile?”

The look on his face was almost pained before he deliberately wiped it away. “I'm not a risk, babe.”

Misty didn't want to tell him that he was the biggest risk she'd ever taken. She loved him so much, even more than she desired him. Around him her heart felt vulnerable and soft and a little wounded because she wished so badly she could have met him months ago. He could break her so easily.

She shook her head, willing to tease him to chase her dark thoughts away. This wasn't a time for wariness, but a time to break free. “I've never had an excellent lover, Morgan.” She slipped her fingers down his side, over his hip. “I want you to be excellent.”

His teeth flashed in the darkness and his hand smoothed over her hair, then tucked it behind her ear. “You know how to put on the pressure, don't you?”

“Are you intimidated?”

He snorted. After staring at her for a long moment, he shifted to sit up. His gaze strayed to her body again and again while he pulled off his shoes and socks and laid his cell phone aside. “So you want to see all of me?”

“Yes.”

“Should I turn on some lights?”

Misty laughed. How she could recognize humor while burning up with need was amazing. Morgan made her hungry, and he amused her, and he made her feel special and cherished in so many ways.

But then, he did that for a lot of people.

“With no curtains on the windows?” she asked.
“Don't you think that might be unwise? What if someone is out there and they see you prancing around in the buff?”

He chuckled, but the sound was strained as he stared at her breasts. “I don't prance, Malone. And there's no one out there on a night like this.”

She pretended to consider his offer, then said, “No, let's leave the lights off.” She'd definitely be more daring without too much illumination. She needed the shadows to enjoy herself fully. At least this first time.

Morgan shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“That's the spirit.” Her laugh ended on a gasp when he came to his knees and carefully pulled down his zipper, easing it around a rather large, hard erection. She didn't want to laugh now. No, she just wanted to watch. And touch.

And taste.

Without any signs of modesty, Morgan slowly shucked his jeans and underwear down his hips, then sat back and pulled them the rest of the way off. “Now you,” he rumbled, and leaned forward to do the job himself.

Misty stared at his naked body and felt the warmth build beneath her skin, felt her womb tighten, her breasts ache. His hips were a shade lighter than the rest of his sun-darkened skin, the flesh looking smooth and hard, taut with muscle. Crisp, curling hair covered his chest and tapered into a downy line on his abdomen. She felt a little lecherous eyeing his swollen erection and wondered how it would feel to touch him there.

Belatedly, Misty remembered that she wanted to be a full participant, not a passive one. She toed off her sneakers, then came up onto her elbows as Morgan worked the button of her pants loose and started on her zipper. “Would you rather I strip? It'll be easier.”

Morgan froze for a heartbeat, then shook his head. “I'd never live through it. The fact you're not wearing a bra is already more than any man should have to deal with.”

“You
wanted
me to wear a bra.”

His hand opened over her belly and caressed her lightly, smoothing over her skin, dipping quickly into her belly button, then sliding beneath her open jeans to palm her buttocks. She reached for his erection and wrapped her hand around him.

He was hard and hot and silky. He flexed in her hand, and she tightened her hold.

With a groan, Morgan hooked his fingers into the waistband of her jeans. His voice was gravelly and low when he spoke. “Unveiling you slowly would have been better for my system. Saving me the shock, you know?”

Misty ignored his words, enthralled with the velvety feel of him. “Do you like this, Morgan?” She squeezed him carefully, heard his rough gasp. “You'll have to give me some direction, okay?”

He had her jeans as far as her knees and he paused to tilt his head back and suck in deep breaths. “Harder.”

Misty's heartbeat drummed at his growled com
mand. She tightened her hand and stroked him again. “Like this?” she whispered.

Morgan suddenly caught her wrist and pulled her hand away. “I'm sorry, but I can't take it.” He kissed her knuckles and placed her hand next to her head on the floor. “You need to do some catching up, sweetheart, so keep those soft little hands to yourself for a few minutes, okay?”

Nodding, Misty lifted her hips so he could pull her jeans the rest of the way off. Morgan pushed them aside, and immediately bent down to kiss the top of her right thigh. “Damn, you smell good,” he muttered as he nuzzled her hipbone, her belly, leaving warm damp kisses on her skin.

Misty shifted, not sure if she should protest or not. He'd taken the lead, but she loved how he looked at her, the husky timbre of his voice.

“Open your legs.”

“Morgan…”

“Shh. Trust me, okay?”

It seemed as though her heartbeat shook her entire body. Around her nervousness, her excitement, she whispered, “I do trust you. I always have.”

Morgan looked down at her, making her feel exposed and agitated and eager. He wedged her thighs apart and settled between them. He stared into her eyes and cupped her breasts. His solid abdomen pressed warmly against her mound, making her arch the tiniest bit. Her thighs were opened wide around his waist.

Misty nearly choked on a deep breath when he lowered his head and sucked one nipple deep into
his mouth. Her back arched involuntarily, but Morgan took advantage of the movement to slip his arm beneath her, keeping her raised for his mouth. He shifted to her other breast, making her moan with the sharp tingle of a gentle bite.

“I could spend an hour,” he whispered, “just on your breasts.”

Misty tangled her fingers in his hair. “I told you I wanted to do some things.”

“We'll take turns.”

He went back to her nipple, and true to his word, he seemed insatiable, tasting her, licking her, sucking her deep. Each gentle tug of his mouth was felt in her entire body. His tongue was both rough and incredibly soft on her aroused flesh. When he finally lifted himself away from her, she could barely keep still. Her nipples were swollen and wet, and she covered them with her own hands, trying to appease the throbbing ache.

Morgan growled at the sight of her touching herself and began kissing his way down her abdomen. When he reached her belly, he paused, then rested his cheek there. “I can't believe there's a baby in here,” he whispered. “You're so slim.”

Misty choked on an explosion of emotion, so touched by the way he accepted her and her condition. “I…I'm bigger than I used to be. I've gained seven pounds.” It amazed her that he didn't seem the least put off by her pregnancy. Kent had been disgusted and repulsed by the idea, but Morgan seemed more intrigued and concerned than anything else.

He placed a gentle kiss on her navel, then slipped
his hands under her thighs and opened her legs wide. “Bend your knees for me, sweetheart. That's it. A little wider.”

She felt horribly exposed with her legs sprawled so wide, his warm breath touching her most sensitive flesh. He was looking at her, studying her, and it embarrassed her even as it excited her almost unbearably.

Knowing what would happen, overcome with curiosity and carnal need, Misty dropped her head on the carpet and stared at the heavily shadowed ceiling.

The first damp stroke of his hot tongue felt like live lightning. She jerked, but he held her still and licked again. She groaned. Morgan used his thumbs to open her completely and tasted her deeply, without reserve.

“Oh, God.”

“So sweet,” he murmured, and anything else he said was lost behind her moans.

She couldn't hold still, couldn't think straight. His fingers glided over her wet swollen tissues, dipping inside every now and again, but not enough to make the building ache go away. His tongue did the same, lapping softly, then stabbing into her.

“Morgan, please…”

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmured hotly, and even his breath made her wild.

But then she gasped as he began working two fingers deep into her. Moving against him, she tried to make him hurry, tried to make him go deeper.

“You're so tight,” he murmured and she heard the repressed tension in his voice.

“Morgan.”

His mouth closed over her throbbing clitoris, sucking gently while his fingers stroked in and out, and she was lost. She cried out, thankful that they were alone, that he'd had the sense to insure their privacy, because she wanted to yell, needed to yell. Nothing had ever felt like this, so powerful and sweet and so much pleasure it was nearly too much to bear.