Sydney gasped, then let out a tiny
squeal. If she’d been standing, she would have probably done a little dance.
“You’re so going to get it when you get here. You know I hate surprises. But
I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll be there,” he said. “And, Sydney?”
Sydney swooned at his low tone. “Yes,”
she whispered.
“I hope you don’t have anything planned
for the morning, because I plan to have you preoccupied for hours. Love you.”
Before she could respond, she heard the
click that signaled he’d hung up. She rubbed her hand over her hair. Brynn had
spit up on her hair. As her fingers traveled down her cheek, she felt the
crusted baby food that her daughter had coughed onto her face. If Morgan saw
her like that, story time might be over.
Bolting into action, Syd kicked at the
mass of covers on her bed. In her haste to get out of the bed, her foot got
stuck in the thin sheet and she toppled over on the floor, hitting her elbow on
the corner of the nightstand. Instead of swearing at the pain and the table,
she suffered in silence for fear of waking the baby up.
She rubbed her arm and hobbled toward
the bathroom. Ouch, that’s going to
bruise.
After the quickest shower of her life,
she emerged from the steaming enclosure and wrapped herself in a towel. At the
mirror, she ran a comb through her curls and brushed her teeth.
Glancing at the clock in the bathroom,
she saw that eight minutes had passed. He
said naked. But she considered donning the skimpy piece of nothing she’d
purchased at the store the other day. It would drive him crazy, and that’s
exactly what she wanted.
She practically sprinted into the
bedroom but stopped in her tracks upon seeing Morgan leaning against the
dresser, arms folded across his chest. “Morgan,” she breathed.
His mouth turned up in a devilish grin
as his gaze traveled from her face to her neck to her chest and down the length
of her body. It was almost like he was touching her, fanning his fingers across
her skin the way his hungry eyes took her in.
Sydney took a minute to check him out.
He’d let his beard grow out a little, and the five o’clock shadow sent a surge
of heat right to her core. He wore a pair of navy blue slacks and a dress
shirt. The top button was open and the sleeves of his shirt were folded up to
his elbows, giving her a glimpse of his muscular arms. The tattoo on his left
arm peeked out from under the silk fabric. He looked damn good.
Her mouth fell open and she swallowed,
gripping her towel. “You’re here,” she murmured, her voice strained.
With his eyes fixed on her mouth, he
said, “You’re not naked.”
She let her towel fall to the floor with
no hesitation. “I am now.” Slowly, she sauntered toward him, feeling brazen and
a little crazy with need. She’d missed him, and seeing him standing before her
made her want to grab him and hold on to him for eternity.
No words were necessary. Everything they
needed to say, they said with their eyes, with the magnetic pull that seemed to
take over whenever they were near each other. He brushed a finger down her
cheek and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, jerking her to him. She
gasped as he crushed her body against his, reveling in the feel of his hard
chest against her soft breasts. He leaned down, rubbing his nose against her cheek,
then lightly biting her jaw. Morgan trailed a line of kisses to her ear,
pulling the lobe between his teeth.
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he
groaned, his breath hot in her ear.
“I can’t believe you still have on
clothes,” she retorted, bringing her fingers up to his collar.
— ABOUT THE AUTHOR —
Born and raised in Southeast Michigan near Ann Arbor, Elle learned the importance of reading from her mother. It was also her mother who, later on in her life, gave Elle her first romance novel: Indigo by Beverly Jenkins. From that moment on, Elle became a fan of Ms. Jenkins for life and a lover of all things romance. An old journal she wrote back in college became her first book (which she still wants to publish one day).
