CHAPTER THREE

“Knock, knock,” Andrew calls as he enters the front door uninvited.

“C’mon! Andrew!” I freeze and grip the towel around my body.

“What?” he asks genuinely intrigued, dropping his gaze to my cleavage peeking out from the bright yellow cotton.

I point to the open door and stomp my foot. “Seriously, were you dropped on your head as a baby?”

He continues to venture into my kitchen and grabs a Granny Smith apple. He takes a huge bite and replies with a mouthful, “I don’t think so, but you can ask my mother the next time you talk to her. Almost ready to go?”

“Go where?”

He takes another bite and juices dribble, forcing him to slurp with his tongue and lips. I cross my legs and squeeze to quell my body’s response to his presence.

“To the beach. Remember I asked you earlier? Or were you dropped on your head as a baby?” He grins as he tosses my words back at me.

I consider lying and telling him that I’ve got plans, but since Toni cancelled on me, there is no point.

Sighing heavily as if going to a party with him is a huge inconvenience, I roll my eyes and groan. “I’ll go on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You have to feed the felines. I can’t set foot in that house again unless I take Benadryl. And Benadryl and I don’t always get along. It usually wins out.”

“Deal.”

While in my room dressing, I catch a glimpse of Andrew walking out of the garage carrying a golf club and a wire basket filled with white balls. He looks freshly showered wearing a Denver Broncos T-shirt and khaki shorts. At the edge of the property, he finally stops, sets up a tee and secures a ball. Adjusting his long legs, he widens his stance, tucks his head and swings, propelling the golf ball into the air and down the steep embankment. What seems like hundreds of balls soar through the air until he notes the time on his phone and wanders in the direction of the pool house.

After rushing to the door, I turn the lock then stand with my back against it before he has the opportunity to walk right in. The laughter I’d been holding in shoots forth in a groan when I hear a key being inserted into the lock.

I fling the door open and yell at him. “Stop acting like you own the place!”

His crooked smile is infectious.

“Ugh! When did you say you’re leaving?” I ask then mumble, “Not soon enough” under my breath. I close the door behind me and follow him to the garage. Tapping a code on the keypad, all four doors open, revealing several shiny vehicles and one tucked away, hidden beneath a blanket of black material.

“What should we take?” he asks, motioning to the cars. “I haven’t driven this one in a while.” He states, pointing to a sleek Mercedes. “Or this one.” He walks over to the bright yellow Hummer and glides his fingers over the hood.

Feeling as though we’re doing something wrong, I offer an alternative. “I don’t mind driving my Acura. It’s not as fancy as these cars, but it’s paid off and it’s mine.”

Ignoring me entirely, Andrew walks to the far end of the garage and lifts the black material, taking a quick peek. “What have we got here?” He grabs the corner and suddenly whips off the blanket, revealing a stunning 1966 candy apple red Mustang convertible in absolute mint condition. “Hello, sweetheart.” He whistles in appreciation. “You are mine tonight.”

My eyes dart to find his, but his attention is laser focused on the car with a classic license plate.

“Andrew, your dad just got that. I really don’t think you should drive it without talking to him first.”

Grinning salaciously while moving slowly, Andrew motions with his chin to the interior of the vintage vehicle then opens the passenger door for me. I hesitate but eventually lower myself onto the soft leather when he gestures with his hand in a gentlemanlike fashion and smiles.

Whispering as he closes the door, I hear him. “C’est une belle nuit pour une balade.”

Once the seat is adjusted to accommodate his height, I glance over and smile.

“What does that mean and where’d you learn to speak French?” I inquire, wondering about the time he must have spent perfecting his accent. I can only imagine the years of studying, the hard work and intense linguistic training to become so fluent. Perhaps he’d spent several semesters abroad studying the French culture while backpacking through the medieval villages or maybe he traveled to Paris to meet up with friends.

Turning his head, Andrew’s eyes shine with humor. “Do you speak French?” he asks with a sly smile.

“No,” I reply regretfully, wishing I had paid more attention in college. “Did you major in French in college? Go to France?”

Pulling his eyes away from mine, his fingertips caress the steering wheel, letting it glide between his hands. Watching his every move, I swallow hard when his grip tightens around the helm and he whispers softly in the foreign language.

Astonished, I listen to his quiet ramblings of seduction as the purr of the engine comes to life. “What does that mean?”

Andrew shifts in his seat and faces me as he brings his hands up to tuck the loose strands behind my ear. Magnificent blue eyes framed by perfect eyebrows and long eyelashes bore into mine. I blink several times, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze until finally his luscious lips produce a choreographed symphony of melodic words in a language so romantic, so beautiful, so hypnotic. As each utterance emerges and infiltrates my ears, my sex tightens and moistens. Enthralled by the sound of his voice, I nod subtly and silently vow to do whatever he commands or go wherever he directs.

My eyelids flutter before closing. I inhale sharply when his fingertips slowly graze the skin just below my earlobe then trail across my bottom lip.

“Oh God. That’s so sexy,” I murmur. Opening my eyes quickly, I nervously realize I have spoken the words aloud. I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment and I pull my eyes away.

A victorious grin, one of satisfaction, slides across his face because he knows he’s got me right where he wants me.

Wet, willing and ready.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” I am not certain if my question is referring to his acquisition and use of a foreign language or his incredible ability to almost make me come simply by whispering a few spoken words.

“My father is actually fluent in several languages and I studied abroad then backpacked across Europe during my gap year,” he says, shifting the car into gear and looking over his right shoulder to back out onto the driveway.

Crossing my legs, I pray the dampness between my thighs has not soiled the seat. “Gap year?” I ask as Andrew lowers the convertible top, revealing a picturesque dark night sky filled with a million stars.

As Andrew steps out of the car to close the garage doors, he calls back, “You know, the year before you become an adult.” Light laughter is added to his words and I groan internally wondering if he’s ridiculing me for my near orgasm.

“Must be nice,” I reply upon his return. “Some of us didn’t have that luxury.”

Andrew revs the engine and a plume of smoke rises from the heated back tires.

“Easy!” I reprimand.

He chuckles. “She can handle it.”

“That’s not the point! She isn’t your car so handle her with care.”

Andrew glances at me and licks his lips. “So if she were mine, I could do whatever I want? Treat her any way I desire? Have my wicked way with her?”

Biting back another round of snarky replies, I simply close my eyes and shake my head, groaning quietly. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

♦♦♦

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in!” a man’s voice calls as Andrew leads me around the back of a beach house to where a huge fire pit roars and embers dance, floating in the air.

“What’s up, Twinkle Toes!” Andrew retorts, offering a clasped hand and a shoulder bump to a man about his same size. “How’ve you been, man?”

“Life is good. Married life is even better. When are you taking the plunge?”

“Never if I can help it!” Andrew laughs, looking around at the other people gathered for the night.

“Hey, I’m Rob. Welcome! Apparently my friend here forgot his manners.” Rob extends a hand in greeting.

“Morgan.” I return the hearty handshake with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Rob looks down at our clasped hands. “Strong grip. I like that.”

Embarrassed, I shrug and look away briefly before returning my attention to him. “My dad believes eye contact and a firm handshake will get you far in life.”

A wide grin spreads across Rob’s face. “You’re gonna be the one to settle him down.”

Andrew and I look at each other dubiously.

My response is swift and curt. “Uh, no thanks. Not interested in the job.”

Rob snickers, leaning in to whisper to Andrew, “I like this girl. She might be the one.”

“Shut the fuck up, man!” Andrew snorts, countering with a sense of annoyance. “Where’s that pretty little wife of yours? I owe her a kiss.”

“Kiss my ass, bro!”

Needing to remove myself from the awkward situation and ward off the inexplicable feeling of jealousy at the idea of Andrew kissing someone, I hitch my thumb in the direction of the bar. “I’m going to get a drink. Want something?”

“I’ll go with you,” Andrew remarks after telling Rob he’ll catch up with him in a few.

“I don’t need you to hold my hand to get a drink.” I turn away, but he’s by my side in a split second.

“Don’t worry...I wasn’t going to hold your hand anyway,” he teases, whispering in my ear. “I usually go for the wrist.”

I swat him away. “You’re like a nine-year-old.”

He laughs.

“How old are you anyway?” I ask.

“Thirty-three.”

“You’re such a liar!” I answer back, grabbing a can of Coke.

“How old are you?” he retorts while reaching for a bottle of beer and a bottle of water.

“None of your business!”

“Andrew Darling, there you are!” a pregnant woman waddles over and tosses her arms up into the air.

“Emma! Hey babe!” Andrew returns the embrace. “Holy shit. You’re huge!”

I cover my mouth to hide my laughter.

The petite redhead’s jaw drops open. “What?! Only because I’ve known you forever and you’re gorgeous, I’ll forgive you for that dickhead comment.”

“Sorry! I mean, you look incredible...just big.”

Emma turns to me and scowls. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“Luckily, I don’t,” I reply quickly and shoot him a hard side-eye.

Andrew finds his manners and makes formal introductions.

“So you work for Mark and Diana?”

I nod enthusiastically.

“I love them! They’re the best!” Emma sighs then chuckles. “I wish Diana were my mother-in-law instead of the monster I ended up with.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty great. They’re in Vegas for the long weekend. They’re so spontaneous and adventurous. They’re taking a helicopter ride around Vegas tonight at sunset and then having dinner near the Grand Canyon.”

“Sounds romantic,” she adds, clutching her petite hands to her chest.

“Sounds cliché,” Andrew comments dryly as a scowl emerges.

“Oh man! I have to pee...again,” Emma grumbles, excusing herself to use the restroom. Apparently the two babies she’s carrying like to play footsies against her bladder.

An hour turns into two then three with food, drinks and fireworks just as Andrew promised. What I did not anticipate were the subtle interjections of French seemingly at my expense as if he were enjoying a private joke with himself.

I kick off my flip-flops, carrying them in one hand as I cradle a beer in the other and walk along the shore. Small waves crash against my feet. I stop and stare at the water, wondering what lies just beyond the dark horizon. My thoughts, like a pendulum, swing back and forth as the tide continues to ebb and flow. I sigh heavily and wonder where I would be tonight if I hadn’t made the decision to leave my husband. Probably at home alone.

“Want one?” Andrew extends his arm, handing something over as he comes down to the water’s edge and stands beside me. I glance over and notice the Good Humor Toasted Almond ice cream bar. I laugh when he bites into it and moans his delight. “So sweet and creamy.” Again he presents the second bar, but I decline his offer with a chuckle.

“No, thanks. You enjoy them both.”

Heading in the direction of the bonfire, we walk simultaneously while Andrew finishes one treat before unwrapping the other.

“I offered you something. Now you’ve got to give me something back.”

“What?” Why do I have to give you something?” I squawk.

“Because I was going to share my ice cream with you,” he retorts quickly. “Now you have to give me something in return.”

My smile falters. I can only imagine what he’s expecting so I raise my eyebrow in question.

Looking at me from the corner of his eye, Andrew purrs something in French.

I purse my lips and roll my eyes. “I don’t know what that means.”

Grinning, he sinks his teeth into the ice cream and says, “I know. That’s what makes it so fun. Now tell me what you’re thinking about.”

I smirk. “So you didn’t really bring that second ice cream down here for me, did you?”

“Not exactly, but I would’ve given it to you if you wanted it...and asked nicely.” The orange glow from the fire brightens his face, and I detect the humor in his pretty blue eyes.

Taking a cleansing breath, I fill my lungs with warm end of summer air and plop down onto the sand.

“I got married over Labor Day weekend.”

“Married? You’re married?” he screeches incredulously, choking on a bite of his dessert.

I shake my head. “No, not any more. My divorce was finalized last month.”

Andrew pulls his eyes away and looks out over Long Island Sound. “Wow.” He exhales sharply. “Married and divorced. What happened?”

Silence stretches into minutes.

“You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal, but you did see me completely naked last night so...”

Quiet laughter emerges and I smile, appreciating his interjection of humor into an otherwise serious topic.

I sigh heavily. “It was lonely,” I pause then take a deep breath before continuing. “You see...my ex was the life of the party and he loved the attention. He didn’t understand that a marriage was about two people meeting each other’s needs. I met his, but he didn’t even try to meet mine. I was always second to him and everyone else. It took me a while to realize I was never going to be number one in his life.”

“Yeah, I know a little something about that.”

I turn my head to look at Andrew and wonder if there’s a woman out there who broke his heart.

“I ended it before I wasted too many more years in his shadow.” A dark chuckle slips from my lips and I jiggle the bottle of beer in my hand, knowing the alcohol has given me loose lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload all that. I should’ve just said it didn’t work out, huh?”

Andrew offers a half smile and says, “I get it.”

My lips tighten into a hard line and I look down, remembering the look on Sean’s face when I told him. Even though my decision was made, it hurt my heart because I’d never seen my husband cry until that day. I think he realized how much he had hurt me over the course of our union.

“I’m sorry.” Andrew offers, turning his focus back on me. “That must’ve been tough.”

Sweeping my eyes back up, I gaze at him and notice genuine interest. “It was tough watching my friends all get married and do things that couples are supposed to do. It was sad when it all started to crumble.” I draw in the sand with my pointed toe to distract my thoughts from going to a place as dark as the night sky. “I was sad and lonely all the time, but I knew I didn’t want to be like that for the rest of my life...so I left, filed for divorce and changed my name back as soon as I could. I kind of lost sight of who I was for a little bit there.”

“His loss.”

I shrug. “I think I gained a lot more than he lost.” I pull my legs in and rest my chin on bent knees. “I know who I am and I know what I want now.”

“And what is it that you want, Ms. Morgan Montgomery?” Andrew whispers with emphasis on my maiden name as he moves in to caress my face.

To feel your lips again. To feel your touch again.

“I know I will never let anyone put me second ever again.”

“Embrasse moi,” he demands quietly, leaning in closer.

“Andrew,” I sigh, shaking my head, meeting his lustful stare. “Kissing you is not a good idea.” Been there— done that.

“Why not?” he asks playfully, angling his head to rub his nose against mine.

“Because I don’t know if you’re Andrew or Jackson.”

Boom! There it is out in the open.

Like a balloon, Andrew deflates and returns to his original position beside me.

“I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have left the way I did that night. It was wrong of me. Things were happening with my parents and...”

“What about them?”

Shaking his head, Andrew declines to elaborate while exhaling heavily.

“I adore your parents, but I don’t think they’d be too thrilled to know I had a one-night stand with their son six years ago.” I jab his ribs with my elbow.

“At any rate, I am sorry,” he replies with a sullen voice.

“I’m over it, but I should punch you.”

Confusion materializes on his face. “I think you already broke a rib, now you want to punch me?”

A sad smile creeps on mine. “I was so embarrassed and felt completely dejected. A week later, I walked right into Sean’s arms when he showered me with a little attention. And I had to endure the name Dickman. Morgan Dickman. Can you imagine living with a name like that?”

Andrew laughs. “Now I’m really sorry about leaving.”

“Andrew! Morgan!” Rob calls to us. “Game time!”

Entered into a bean bag throwing contest, Andrew and I team up and win round after round until we reach the championship level.

“Don’t blow it.” A smirk is attached to my words.

“I’ve never blown a thing. In fact, I nailed the last three,” Andrew counters, holding the small square in the palm of his hand and I roll my eyes thinking of the woman he screwed around with last night. She’s only one out of three.

“Don’t press your luck. Ten bucks says you don’t make it in.”

A salacious and tempting grin spreads across his handsome face. “Ten bucks? That’s it?” He bends at the waist and extends his arm, preparing to launch the bean bag. “A hundred bucks.”

My confidence is boosted by my consumption of beer. “You’re on!” I say as I walk to the opposite side and stand behind the wooden box. I bend over and place my hands on my knees, exposing the cleavage through my T-shirt. “Come on! Right in the hole.”

Andrew’s eyes narrow as he licks his lips. With a gentle toss, he releases the bean bag.

I watch with rapt attention as it sails through the air and lands millimeters away from the open circle.

“Yes!” I shout and pump my fist in the air then do a little happy dance complete with shrugging shoulders.

“Why are you so excited? You’re on the same team!” Rob exclaims.

Sauntering back over, I stand aside while Emma tosses her bag and misses.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” I whisper to Andrew then wink, shimmying my way in front of him.

“OMG! How’d you get every single bag in?” Emma asks me incredulously.

I shrug, fighting a smile. “Beginner’s luck?”

“Congrats, man!” Rob says, shaking Andrew’s hand. “You’ve got a good partner there.”

Andrew’s eyes shift to mine and he hums. “Yep, she is really good.”

“Maybe she’s a hustler,” Rob suggests.

“A bean bag hustler?” I laugh. “Not exactly.”

“That’s right.” Andrew purrs, nodding in remembrance. “I think she’s played before.

Surprised by his comment, I realize Andrew remembers playing this exact game six years ago the night we slept together. We’d hung out most of the night, playing yard games and drinking until we ended up in bed. It was the one and only time I ever got drunk and had a one night stand.

♦♦♦

Standing amongst the last few of Rob and Emma’s friends, I smile, happy that I accepted Andrew’s invitation to join him, thankful to have met Emma. “Thanks for tonight. It was really fun!”

“Hope to see you again soon,” she says, offering me a quick hug.

I smile tightly but don’t reply.

Emma looks at Andrew. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow night,” he replies, much to my surprise.

“But your parents won’t be back until Tuesday. Aren’t you going to wait to see them?” I ask sharply.

Andrew tosses me a hard look.

“Well, you better come back for the christening!”

Hoping to bring this evening to a close, I extend my hand to Rob. “It was nice to meet you.”

As though he wants to eat me for dessert, Rob smiles devilishly and nods, taking my hand and raising it to his lips. “Likewise. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

His flagrant flirting makes me extremely uncomfortable, and I attempt to pull my hand away. I get the impression he’s a “touchy-feely” drunk. Having older brothers has prepared me to stand up for myself and put him in his place.

I glance at Emma to gauge her reaction, but she’s smiling at her husband’s outward display of affection. She slaps Rob’s arm playfully, knocking away his hold on me. “Leave her alone. If she’s immune to this guy,” she points to Andrew, “she’ll definitely be immune to you. Evidently, your charm only works on one woman on the entire planet.”

Rob pulls her close and kisses her lips with a loud pop. “That’s right, baby!”

“Later!” Andrew says, ushering me around the house to where his father’s newest toy is parked.

We settle in our respective seats, but he doesn’t start the engine.

“Thanks for coming tonight.” Andrew looks at me. “Sorry about Paige. I didn’t think she would be here. Last I heard she and Emma had a huge fight and weren’t exactly on speaking terms.”

I look down at the BBQ sauce stain on my shirt. Annoyed just thinking about the obnoxious woman who practically jumped into Andrew’s arms and knocked the plate of food out of my hand, resulting in his pork sandwich smashing into my chest, I simply sigh. “No worries. It’s not like this was my favorite shirt or anything.”

He offers a genuine smile. “I can see why people like you so much.”

Tilting my head, I raise my shoulders, grin and bat my eyelashes dramatically. “Look at me! What’s not to love?”

Andrew stares at me. “I’m looking.”

On the drive back to the house, Andrew asks about my family and my upbringing.

“Three older brothers?”

I nod. “Yep.”

“That explains why you’re such a tomboy.”

Offended, I reply with a huff. “I’m not a tomboy. I’m just not overly girly. It wasn’t easy being the only girl. I constantly had to prove myself to them. I was about to take Rob out if he didn’t quit touching me.”

Andrew’s eyes shift to my burgundy T-shirt, cuffed ‘boyfriend’ style jeans and worn flip flops.

“I wasn’t going to get dressed up to go to a beach party,” I snap.

“Fair enough.”

We arrive back at the house a short time later. Andrew parks the car, completely unscathed, in its original spot after opening the garage door. Matching my footsteps in the dark, Andrew’s arm brushes against mine as we cross the yard and stop at the front entry of the house. I step onto the landing and turn to face him.

I clear my throat. “Thanks for the invite. It was fun.”

“Sorry again about Rocco.”

I smile. “Ah yes, Rocco. Hopefully he’ll be able to walk tomorrow.” I laugh, remembering how I “accidently” lifted my right knee and nailed him in the groin when he pressed his body against mine. I couldn’t believe he acted as though it were accidentental, yelling something about how people need to be more careful. Apparently that’s his MO to talk to women, but I saw him coming a mile away.

With a disgusted and contentious hiss, Andrew interrupted Rocco’s insincere apologies, and threw his arm over my shoulder, staking a claim.

“Get lost, Rocco. This beautiful girl here...she’s with me. She’s mine tonight.”

Had it been anyone else, I would’ve corrected Andrew’s statement, but I was grateful.

“...tomorrow morning?”

I blink furiously, snapping back to the present. “What?”

“Do you want to grab breakfast tomorrow morning?”

I narrow my eyes, wondering why he’s the least bit interested in spending time with me. Perhaps he’s trying to make up for leaving so quickly after he screwed me.

Shaking my head, I decline his offer with a small smile.

Looking at me, he nods. “Okay.” Then he drops his eyes up from my face and focuses on my cleavage, his cheek pulling back into a sexy grin. “I’m glad you came tonight.” He licks his lips and I wonder if he’s referring to my near orgasm in the Mustang.

The tension which has been building between us reaches an all-time high.

“Well,” I sigh quietly, turning to unlock the door. “If I don’t see you, have a good night and a good flight back tomorrow.” With Andrew heading out west tomorrow, I know I’m giving up the chance to be with him again. It’s probably for the best anyway. The last thing I need to do is have random sex with someone I’ll most likely never see again. I’ve been taking care of my own needs for quite some time, tonight won’t be any different. “Don’t forget to feed the cats before you leave.” I spin around when I feel the proximity of his body.

“What are—” I raise my hand and slap it across his mouth as his face comes closer to mine.

“I want to kiss you,” he mumbles beneath my flattened palm.

I grin. “What if I don’t want to be kissed by you?”

Humor sparkles in his blue eyes as his hand grips my wrist, tugging it down away from his mouth. “You want me to kiss you right now just as much as you wanted me to kiss you earlier this afternoon.”

My mouth opens. “What?! I didn’t want you to kiss me!” Liar.

That same hand pins my arm above my head as the other reaches around to the nape of my neck, tilting my head upward.

“You’re dying for me to kiss you, Morgan.”

Part of me wants to knee him in the balls like I did to Rocco while the other part screams yes, please.

“I know your parents taught you better manners than this.”

The porch light illuminates his face and I see his moment of confusion.

“You should really ask before taking,” I answer nervously, trying my hardest to appear unaffected by the words he speaks, by the gentle caress of my face and by the fierce erection pressing against my belly.

“I spent some time at a vineyard when I was in France. You’re like the land full of thousands of grapes waiting to be harvested.”

I swallow.

“How do winemakers know when a crop is ready?”

I stare silently with no answer on my tongue.

“Do you think each grape, full and ripe, asks to be picked? No...” Andrew shakes his head slowly. “The winemaker knows when the time is right; he knows because he picks one. He holds it in between his fingers and inspects the size, the color and its firmness. Then he puts it into his mouth and swirls his tongue around, savoring its fragrance. With a single bite, the sweet juice bursts onto his tongue...then he knows. He knows the grapes are ready to be plucked, washed and pressed so others can enjoy its sweet juice and tenderness too.”

A shiver trickles through me and moisture pools between my legs. He hasn’t even touched me and I’m on the verge of a complete meltdown...again.

“You, sweet Morgan, are ready.”

Swallowing the urge to submit to whatever Andrew Darling is offering, I utter that he really should ask.

He complies with my simple request, but before I can answer in the affirmative, his lips, luscious and warm, crash against mine. His tongue forces its way in and invites mine to play.

Having had my arm released, I am free to run my fingers through his hair and cradle the nape of his neck, mirroring his hold on me. My heart is pounding in my chest, adrenaline surges through me when his hand slides down my back and cups my ass, lifting me clear off the stamped concrete. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I feel my core throb against his stiffness. It’s as if my body remembers that one night so long ago.

I reach back and turn the knob without breaking contact with his mouth until he trails a line of soft kisses along my jawline and neck. My eyes close and I relish the feeling of his body. All sense of rationale and responsibility are left at the door; only lust and desire fill the room.

We collapse onto my bed and he immediately yanks the soiled shirt off my body. My breasts are pulled from my deep crimson bra and my nipples sucked into his mouth. Alternating nips and nibbles create a lethal combination, and I nearly explode.

“Wait! We...should...stop,” I pant.

“No we shouldn’t,” he counters.

“I...work for your parents...and...”

With a heavy breath, he promises, “I’ll be gone by tomorrow night.”

I have a choice to make and I need to make it quickly.

To spend an incredible night with Andrew Darling or ask him to leave.

When my name falls from his lips, my decision is solidified.

Wanting to slow things down to enjoy every second, I pull his mouth back to mine. Kissing Andrew Darling is better than I remember. I can only imagine how incredible the fucking is going to be once again.

“Andrew,” I breathe.

He hums in response.

“Look at me,” I plead.

Although the room is dark, the exterior fixtures provide enough light for me to see his lust-filled eyes staring down at me.

“I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but stay with me tonight.” All night I want to add.

I reach for the hem of his orange Broncos T-shirt and lift up. Needing to rid the barrier, he pulls it off and tosses it away. Showing appreciation for his perfect form, my hands skate along his skin and through the sprinkling of chest hair. My index finger continues its downward descent to his navel and I suppress a smile, thinking about how I had caused strife earlier in the day.

It’s time to make amends.

Encouraging him to lay beneath me, I free the single button and lower the zipper on his shorts. While I kneel between his thighs, my lips kiss along the elastic band of his boxers and my hand strokes his length. The rigidity extends from tip to base and stiffens with my touch. Licking my lips in anticipation, I tug at the elastic waistband and free his substantial erection. Oh, his glory, his form, his size.

With his back propped against the pillows and his arms crossed beneath his head, Andrew watches me work his cock with my hand. Maintaining eye contact, I lower my mouth and glide my tongue across the head, circling around the bead of pre-cum before licking it while my free hand roams greedily over the planes of his abs.

Andrew hisses then moans when I lick my way down to his full sac then return my attention to his shaft. Opening my mouth, I welcome him in. He fills my mouth entirely just as I remember. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on sucking rhythmically while trying not to gag when he suddenly bucks his hips and hits the back of my throat. I pull away and smile coyly. “Let me do this my way.”

“Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

The contact of my hands and mouth elicits several cursed groans as his hands grasp my head and guide the motion.

“Holy fuck,” he curses. “You need to stop.”

I shake my head, loving what I’m doing and how I’m making him feel.

“Morgan,” he barks my name just as his phone rings. “I want to fuck you.”

Sitting up quickly, Andrew reaches down for what I presume is his phone, but he produces a condom instead. The ringing stops as he rolls the sheath over his erection, but then the sound quickly begins once again.

A quick glance at the clock indicates the hour and a pang of jealousy shoots through me, wondering who is calling so late. “Maybe you should answer that,” I suggest when it rings several times in a row.

“Fuck! Who the hell is calling?” Annoyed, he huffs and reaches into his pocket. “I don’t know this number,” he grumbles. “Can’t be anyone important.”

“Could it be your girlfriend?” I blurt out, preparing myself to feel horrible for being an adulterer.

“No,” he confirms quickly with an adamant shake of his head. Believing his words that he’s “not interested in anything long term” to be true, my mind is set at ease.

“Oh, good,” I breathe.

Trying desperately to get us back to where we were minutes ago, I straddle his abdomen and swivel my hips, letting him feel my heat.

“You trying to kill me?” he groans.

I lower my face and kiss him, giving him the opportunity to drag my jeans down over my hips.

Then my cell phone rings.

“Arghh! Now who the hell is calling me so late?” I yell in frustration as I prepare to dismount his body even though I know it’s probably Sean, calling in a drunken stupor to apologize for being a lousy husband. I gave that man five years of my life; I refuse to give him five more seconds.

“Don’t answer that!” he commands, pulling my face to his.

“It might be important,” I say when it rings again for the third time. “It could be my parents.”

Springing from my bed, I run out into the hall for my bag.

I grimace when I notice the 702 area code. I don’t recognize it at all.

“Hello?” I ask as I walk back into my room. “Yes, this is she.”

I listen intently to a man’s panicked voice and then...my heart stops.

“What? When? How bad?” The questions fly from my lips. “Oh my God. I can’t believe this.”

“Are you okay?” Andrew asks.

Unable to hold my own weight, I sit on the edge of the bed and drop my head between my legs while holding the phone to my ear, listening to the trembling voice on the other end of the line.

Andrew sits up and is by my side in an instant, wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Heartache and disbelief overwhelm me, and my body shudders violently. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel. I can’t think. Unable to respond to the questions hurled at me by a stranger, I simply nod as sorrowful tears stream down my face.

Biting back the sudden urge to vomit, I turn to Andrew and meet his concerned expression. I caress his cheek and lean into his embrace.

“Andrew...”

He takes the phone from my hand and bellows into it, but the bearer of incredibly horrific news has already disconnected the call.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

I howl and quake, the anguish ripping through me like a hot, serrated blade.

“I’m so sorry.” Broken words slip from my lips. “Oh God, I am so sorry.”

Two hands cup my face, holding me firmly in place as blue eyes search mine. “What happened? Is it your parents?” he demands gruffly.

Shaking my head wildly, I manage to stammer, “No...it’s yours.”

“My parents?” His eyebrows furrow displaying his confusion. “What about them?”

I bury my face and sob. “I can’t believe this! This can’t be happening!”

“Morgan!” Andrew grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “Tell me! What happened?”

“Their helicopter...it...it crashed.”