Morgan had deliberately not thought about his kiss all day. Well, she’d tried not to think of his kiss... Okay, truth: she hadn’t thought of much besides his kiss!
To put it another way, she’d done little more than stare out of the window for the whole afternoon.
She was glad to be home, glad to be in her apartment where she could drop all manner of pretence and admit that Noah’s lips on hers had rocked her to her core. She staggered over to her plump red and white striped couch, dropped her bag to the floor and sank down into its welcoming softness.
She’d kissed Noah Fraser.
Inside her body, every single cell she possessed was in revolt. A picture of the little molecules on a protest march flashed in her head...grumpy little cells each carrying placards with various sayings like: Do Him!, We Want Orgasm Reform!, or simply, Sex! Now!
She couldn’t argue.
Her body craved Noah, and she wished she could use the excuse that she’d had none for a while...but she had, surprisingly, not so long ago. It hadn’t been ‘rock my world’ sex, but it had been nice, pleasant, fulfilling and, best of all, very, very discreet.
With her high profile she valued discretion. She just hadn’t realised that in that case discreet had been a synonym for married. She’d been surprised and shocked when—at the last minute, admittedly—she’d decided to attend a cocktail party she’d said she wouldn’t be at. He’d been there with his very beautiful, very thin Venezuelan wife and they’d both known that her tipping a glass of red wine into his lap, accidentally on purpose, had been a poor substitute for her slapping him into next year.
Morgan placed her thumb on one eye and her index finger on the other and pushed.
She had kissed Noah Fraser. Again.
Actually, kissed was totally the wrong word... She’d inhaled him, Frenched him...devoured him. She could still feel his long fingers searing through her pants, the rasp of his two-day beard, the silkiness of his hair as she pulled it through her fingers.
He kissed liked a dream, like a man should kiss: with authority, skill, strength and tenderness. If he made love like he kissed... Morgan whimpered as she felt the pool of heat and lust drop to her womb. She was minutes off an orgasm and that was from just the memories of his kiss!
What if he touched her breasts, slid his fingers...? She didn’t know if she was strong enough to survive the experience.
It took her a moment to realise that someone was pounding on her door and she wrinkled her nose. James frequently came by when he was in town and hung out, mostly to avoid their mother nagging him into attending an event. James was as allergic to the social swirl as she was... Was she a bad sister if she pretended not to be here?
She didn’t want to talk to anybody. She just wanted to relive Noah’s lips on hers, his scent in her nose, the hard muscles she’d felt in his shoulders.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bats...
‘Who is it?’ she demanded in a croaky voice as she pushed herself to her feet.
‘Noah.’
The only person she wanted to see and the last person she’d expected. Morgan yanked the door open and there he stood, jacket and tieless, his fist about to connect with the door again.
Morgan put out one finger and pushed his clenched fist down. ‘You pounded?’
Noah placed his hands on her hips and without a word pushed her backwards and kicked the door shut behind him.
‘Oh, well, just come on in,’ Morgan said, trying for sarcastic and hitting breathless.
Noah dropped his hands from her hips and slapped them on his. ‘I’ve been thinking...’
‘Did you hurt yourself?’ Morgan asked sweetly.
He ignored her. ‘On a scale of one to ten, what are the chances of you being in charge of this ball?’
‘About...hmm...minus one thousand and fifty-two.’
‘Thank God.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t sleep with my clients. Or my colleagues. Ever.’
‘You nearly beat down my door to tell me that?’
‘Try and keep up, Moreau. I don’t sleep with clients.’
Morgan, starting to catch a clue, felt her heart-rate accelerate. ‘And since I’m not going to be organising the ball I won’t be your client,’ she said slowly as she wrapped her head around the implications of those words.
‘There you go.’ Noah nodded ‘I walked away years ago...’
‘I know. I was there.’
That was a conversation for another day, and right now she didn’t give a foo-foo. She wanted to know if he was here for the same reason she wanted him here. So that they could take that hot kiss they’d shared in the lift to its logical conclusion. And if he was toying with her again she’d have MI Security toss his gorgeous body off the roof.
Noah’s eyes glinted blue fire. ‘I don’t want to spend the next eight years wondering...’
Morgan forced the lust away in order to think. It was hard, but she had to do it. ‘You’re leaving tomorrow to go back to London?’
‘More than likely. There’s nothing more I need to do here workwise...at this time.’
‘So you are here for one night...one incredible, exceptional, crazy night.’ she said, enunciating each word. ‘Are we on the same page, here?’
Noah pushed a hand through his messy hair. She could tell it wasn’t the first time he’d done that this evening. ‘Yeah. Deal?’
Phew! She was going to get lucky! All her little cell protestors threw down their placards, lay down and assumed the ‘do me’ position. Morgan considered doing the same.
‘What do you say, Morgan?’
Yes! Stop talking and take me now, yes! ‘Okay, yes, that’s a deal.’ Morgan started to lift her shirt. She wanted to get naked—now.
‘Stop. Don’t,’ Noah said, his voice low and urgent.
Morgan looked at him, fear and fury flashing in her eyes.
Noah took two steps to reach her and clasped her face in his hands. ‘Relax, Morgan, I just want to undress you myself. Inch by gorgeous inch.’
‘Oh.’ Morgan’s hands fell to her sides. ‘Okay.’ She tipped her head back and up, so that she could look into his eyes. ‘You think I’m gorgeous?’
‘Very—and stop fishing for compliments, Duchess. Try kissing me instead.’
The warmth in his eyes was at odds with his teasing
