darted out to touch hers.
All sense of propriety and sensibility left him as he spun her around and pushed her up against the wall. His hand roamed the backs of her legs and under her butt cheeks as he lifted her hips into his erection, felt her breasts flatten against his chest. She was so hot, so feminine, and she was as into this kiss as he was.
All he could think was, where had he found the strength to walk away all those years ago? He wanted her—now—and considered pulling her to the floor...except that they were in a lift and the doors could open at any second...any freakin’ second.
Noah pulled his hands off her butt and yanked his mouth off hers. He backed away—two steps, big deal—and tried to control his heaving breath. Morgan looked no better: shell shocked, kiss-bruised lips, strips of colour across her cheekbones. Anybody who saw them now would know exactly what they had been up to.
Morgan kept her eyes on his face and when the lift opened onto the executive floor, where they’d been earlier, she watched him get out. When Noah realised she wasn’t following him he placed his hand on the door to keep it open and looked back at her.
‘You aren’t getting out here?’
‘I’m going up to my studio. Top floor. Bye. And, Noah?’
‘Yeah?’
‘That was one helluva kiss.’
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
