CHAPTER THREE
As soon as Morgan’s lips touched Tess’s, hers parted in invitation, but he was in no rush to complete this kiss. He had eight long years to make up for in this one moment, and he planned to do his damndest to make it good…for both of them.
Nibbling lightly at her plump bottom lip, he maneuvered her back a few steps, until she was up against the wall next to the window. He slid a hand into her hair, enjoying the feel of the silky textured strands sliding through his fingers, and he cupped the back of her head in his palm, which gave him control over just how deep and how long he planned to kiss her.
He started out slow, relearning the feel of her lips against his, and when she let out a shivery sigh he slid his tongue lazily inside her warm, welcoming mouth.
While he was reacquainting himself with the sweet, hot taste that was Tess, she was busy running her hands down his chest. Then she caught her fingers in the waistband of his jeans, pulled him close, and moved her pelvis sensuously against his.
A burning ache settled in his groin. Sweeping his other hand down to her bottom, he grabbed her ass and lifted her higher, tighter, against him. He fit the length of his erection between her parted thighs and rolled his hips just as aggressively. She gasped and shuddered, and he swallowed the sound as his tongue delved deeper, the kiss grew wetter, wilder, and their bodies strained and ignited like wildfire.
God, she was still just as passionate as she’d been at seventeen, if not more so. Just as eager and responsive. And he went a little bit crazy thinking about how incredible it would feel to be inside her again. To have his hands all over her sleek, naked flesh, his cock buried deep, and his mouth on her full, lush breasts.
His control threatened to snap, and with a low growl he pulled his mouth from hers before he pushed her down on the nearby bed, ripped off their clothes, and followed through on his sinful thoughts.
Flattening his hands on either side of her head, he moved back just enough so that he no longer had her pinned against the wall and they both had a bit more breathing room.
“That was nice,” he murmured against her ear. “Very nice.”
“Mmmm,” she hummed, which was all she seemed to be able to manage.
He glanced down at her, taking in her dazed expression, the hair that was mussed from his hands, her soft, kiss-swollen lips, and thought she looked like sex personified. “You always were a hot little thing. It’s nice to know that hasn’t changed.”
Her eyes flashed indignantly, clearing out the fog of desire clouding their depths. “And you always were much too cocky for your own good. It appears you still are.”
He grinned, liking this strong, impertinence she’d developed over the years. “Only when it comes to something I’m confident about.”
Her chin lifted a fraction, as did a brow. “And what would that be?”
“You. This. Us.” He slipped his hand beneath the hem of her T-shirt, let it rest heavily on the curve of her waist, and stroked his thumb along the bare, silken flesh above the waistband of her jeans.
She sucked in a quick, startled breath.
He grinned triumphantly. “It’s still there, isn’t it?” She blinked up at him, obviously trying to pretend that his touch no longer had the ability to make her melt and bend to his will. “What’s still there?”
She was feigning ignorance by playing dumb, and he decided to up the stakes between them. His palm slid higher, until his fingers feathered beneath her breast, making her gulp back a low moan that managed to escape her throat anyway.
“The chemistry, the heat,” he said, and because she’d felt how much he’d wanted her just minutes ago, he added, “The need for me to get as deep inside you as possible.”
A low gust of breath unraveled out of her, though much to his surprise she managed to remain outwardly composed. “You think I’m that easy?”
“Easy?” he repeated, then shook his head. “Hell, no. A grown woman with desires and sexual needs? Absolutely.”
The corner of her mouth tipped up in a derisive smile. “And you think you’re just the man to take care of those needs, right?”
He skimmed his fingers back down to her flat belly and felt goose bumps rise on her flesh. “What I know is how good it was between us eight years ago, and how good it feels now. So why not enjoy?”
She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to figure out his angle…and if he was truly serious about his intentions. “So, if I hire you, does that mean you’re going to spend the next month trying to get inside my pants?”
He laughed, the sound brimming with amusement. “You know me, Tess. I always did love a good challenge. But the way I see things, the only way I can get into your pants is if you let me.” Because as much as he still wanted her, it was ultimately up to Tess to surrender to him of her own free will.
With that, he moved away from her and picked up his tablet from her bed, ready to be on his way and leave her with her own thoughts about what she wanted. At the door, he stopped and glanced back at Tess, her bewildered expression telling him she wasn’t sure what to make of what had just transpired between them.
He liked seeing her a little off-balance, and knew the next few weeks were going to be very interesting.
“Thanks for breakfast,” he said appreciatively. “I’ll have an estimate for you by tomorrow, and I can get started on the restoration work on Monday.”
She nodded mutely, still standing against the wall across the room from him.
He grinned, winked at her, and then he was gone.
* * *
Tess glanced out the kitchen window to the backyard as she placed half a dozen of the peach cobbler cookies she’d baked earlier that morning on a plate, and smiled at the transformation she saw.
For the past five days the three high-school boys Morgan had hired to do the yard work had labored long and hard to get the outside of the place back into shape. Overgrown weeds had been pulled and the debris removed, and the lawn had been mowed and fertilized, giving it a well-manicured look.
The ground beneath the peach trees had been cleared of rotting fruit and the branches and leaves had been neatly trimmed back. The trees now looked healthy and less burdened by overripe peaches, though there was still an abundance to pick from, which accounted for all the baking and recipes Tess had been experimenting with over the past few days.
Retrieving a pitcher from the refrigerator, she filled a large plastic tumbler with the iced tea, amazed at how much had been accomplished in a week and a half’s time. Despite Morgan’s initial claim that he didn’t have any men to spare for the restoration work, he’d managed to bring in a small crew of three of his guys to help him with the more time-consuming chores. As a result, the outside of the house was nearly restored to a dazzling, beautiful sight—from a new coat of paint that made the structure look a good twenty years younger than it really was, to the thriving plants and shrubs and blooming flowers around the perimeter of the house that added a new stately, elegant dimension to the two-story residence.
Morgan still had the inside to refurbish, but it was apparent that the once run-down house was gradually coming to life and taking on a personality all its own. And so was something within Tess: a bubbling excitement and an inexplicable optimism for the future that she’d yet to fully define.
Picking up the plate of cookies and the iced tea, Tess headed out the kitchen’s back door and followed the sound of steady hammering to the front of the house, where Morgan had spent the better part of the day working to replace the porch floorboards and stairs.
As she rounded the last corner, she was met with the gorgeous, breathtaking sight of Morgan without his shirt on. His worn and faded jeans rode low on his hips from the leather tool belt secured around his waist, and the muscles across his broad back rippled and flexed as he wielded the hammer with expertise. His hair was damp with perspiration, as was all of that glorious, bare and tanned skin of his.
Her stomach fluttered with awareness as she took in the intricate design of tattoos on his arm, her hands itching to touch all that hot, slick flesh, to feel his strong, hard body beneath her fingertips—every single inch of him.
As much as she hated to admit it, especially to herself, she was falling under Morgan’s spell. True to his word, he’d spent the past week flirting shamelessly with her, and when they were alone he wasn’t shy about stealing more of those hot, provocative kisses from her. So, by the time she crawled into bed at night, her body was tight and achy and she had the most vivid, erotic dreams of the two of them together that left her restless and wanting. Just as he’d no doubt intended, the rogue.
He was building the sexual tension between them to a fever pitch, and she was actually enjoying the seduction more than was wise. The man was just so damn charming and sexy, and it had been so long since she’d felt so desirable.
“Hey there,” she said, just as he straightened after nailing down another floorboard. “I brought you a cool drink and a snack. Everybody has already left for the day, and I thought you could use a break.”
He glanced her way and swiped the back of his forearm across his damp forehead. “I want to get this finished today.”
“You’re almost done.” She set the plastic tumbler and plate on the sturdy new stairs, sat down, and indicated the space next to her. “Come and rest for a few minutes and I’ll leave you alone again. I promise.”
His gaze took in the treat she’d brought for him, and seemingly unable to resist, he slipped his hammer into his tool belt and sat down beside her. She couldn’t help but notice the way he spread his long legs in an inherently masculine position, or the way the denim stretched taut across his muscled thighs.
She handed him the iced tea, and he downed half of the contents in a single gulp. Then he picked up a peach cobbler cookie and tossed the entire thing into his mouth and chewed.
He groaned his enjoyment of the confection and filched another. “Damn but those are good. I hope you made extra for me to take home.”
His eyes sparkled mischievously and she laughed. She’d gotten into the habit of sending him home with a care package of whatever she’d baked or made that day with the peaches. “I’m thinking that you’re getting way too spoiled.”
An unapologetic grin curved his mouth. “It’s your own fault for baking all this great stuff.”
“What else am I supposed to do with all those ripe peaches? I hate to let them go to waste.”
“Trust me, I’m not complaining. After all, I’m reaping the benefits of all your experimenting.” He ate another cookie and took a drink of his tea. “You know, I do have to say, you’d make a fortune if you ever decided to sell your baked goods.”
She rolled her eyes at that. “I don’t think opening a bakery in Atlanta is my calling.”
His curious gaze met hers. “What are you going to do once you go back?”
She glanced out at the yard and sighed, wishing she had a solid answer to his question, but she didn’t. Her life at the moment was in limbo even though she still had her apartment in Atlanta under lease.
“I honestly don’t know,” she told him. “I’ve got a degree in business administration and I’ve had a few years’ experience as a marketing rep, so I suppose that’s my logical choice of employment.” And although getting another job was inevitable, she realized she was in no hurry to return to that stressful, nine-to-five rat race.
He cast her a quizzical look. “Did you enjoy what you did for a living?”
She shrugged and brushed back a strand of hair tickling her cheek. “It was a job.”
“But not something you loved,” he stated, guessing at her unspoken thoughts.
It amazed her that he could still read her so well, even after all these years. “Not in the way you love what you do.”
Abrupt laughter escaped him. “Trust me, there are days that this job sucks.”
Resting her elbows on her knees, she propped her chin in her hand and smiled at him. “Do you ever feel that way about your woodwork?”
“Can’t say that I do.” He finished off the last cookie and the rest of his iced tea. “Being in my workshop and shaping a slab of oak into a piece of custom-made furniture is my way of relaxing after a long day at work. It’s like therapy for me.”
“I’d love to find something like that.” There was a wistful quality to her voice she couldn’t hold back.
“You seem pretty happy and relaxed in the kitchen when you’re baking,” he pointed out.
“It’s a nice hobby, but it’s not going to support me or pay bills. I’m just lucky that you’re enjoying the fruits of my labor.” She chuckled at her own pun.
Leaning back, he braced his arms on the step behind him and stretched out his legs, drawing her gaze to his long, lean body. She absently licked her bottom lip as she took in his naked chest, the sprinkling of dark hair on his flat, sinewy belly that disappeared into the waistband of his worn jeans, and the heavy bulge beneath the zippered fly. Fantasies danced in her head, of straddling his hips and having her wicked way with him right here on the front porch.
“So, did you find everything you were looking for in Atlanta?” he asked, startling her out of her wayward thoughts.
She focused on his face and found him regarding her seriously. He was honestly interested about her life in Atlanta, but how did she explain that she’d found only what she believed would make her grandmother proud of her, but in the process she’d lost herself and everything that truly mattered to her. She’d compromised what her heart desired and her own personal values to fulfill an old woman’s dream of seeing Tess prevail where her own daughter had gone astray.
She looked away from him. “No,” she said, her voice near a whisper and her chest tight with all those old regrets. “I can’t say I did find what I was looking for.” Not when all she ever wanted had been right here in Wynhaven.
“Before your grandmother passed away, there was a rumor that you’d gotten engaged to a lawyer.”
Her stomach pitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, hating the thread of censure she heard in his tone. When she opened them again moments later, she forced herself to look Morgan in the eye and be truthful with him. “It wasn’t a rumor. I was engaged. As in past tense.”
“What happened?” he asked gruffly.
She shrugged, striving for nonchalance, though she felt anything but. “I met Patrick Young at a work function. He was a young, up-and-coming lawyer who worked for his father’s firm and we hit it off pretty well. One thing led to another, and before I knew it he was proposing to me, even before I’d met his parents. It all happened so quickly, and I guess I was just caught up in the moment.” And though the engagement didn’t feel right in her heart, in the back of her mind she kept telling herself this is what her grandmother had been hoping for. That Helen would be thrilled that her granddaughter had achieved so much and managed to land herself a prominent man to marry.
But marrying Patrick wasn’t at all what Tess had wanted, not when so much of what was in her heart still belonged to Morgan. She’d been torn and confused…until that fateful night when she’d met his parents, Owen and Ginger Young, and she’d realized what a huge mistake she’d made in accepting Patrick’s proposal.
Patrick had taken her to his parents for dinner, introduced her as his fiancée, and it was evident that his mother hadn’t been happy about her son’s unexpected engagement to a woman they didn’t even know. Ginger had no qualms about grilling Tess over their five course meal about her family, her past, and where she’d grown up. As the conversation progressed and Ginger learned that Tess didn’t know who her father was, that her mother passed away when she was eight, and that her grandmother did her best to raise her on her own, it became increasingly obvious that Mrs. Young completely disapproved of her. That Tess’s lack of any social standing didn’t fit into her plans for her son.
The whole evening had been upsetting to Tess on a variety of levels. She’d excused herself to use the bathroom to calm her churning stomach, but she hadn’t been able to shake the growing doubts about her marriage to Patrick. On her way back to the living room, she overheard Ginger telling Patrick that Tess was white trash, that she was the kind of woman he should sleep with and get out of his system, and not the kind of girl they expected him to marry.
While Ginger’s comment had stunned her, it had been the impetus that Tess had needed to break things off with Patrick, which she’d done that evening when he’d taken her home. And as she lay in bed that night she’d come to realize just how hurt Morgan must have been over her own grandmother’s disapproval of him—just as she’d experienced with Ginger Young. Tess hated that he, too, had been the recipient of that kind of pain.
Helen hadn’t thought Morgan was good enough for Tess, that as a handyman he didn’t have anything significant to offer her. And at the age of eighteen, Tess had been too young and impressionable when it came to pleasing her grandmother, even at the cost of her own desires and emotions.
“Why did you break up with the guy?” Morgan asked, interrupting her private thoughts.
She swallowed hard and managed a halfhearted smile. “Bottom line, I wasn’t in love with Patrick, and I got engaged to him for all the wrong reasons. I was just lucky I realized it in time.”
Morgan nodded, though he didn’t care for what he’d just heard. Still, eight years was a long time to be apart, and they’d both lived separate lives and he supposed they’d each made choices that they now regretted—such as the slew of women he’d used to try and forget about Tess, which had only cemented the truth he’d fought valiantly to ignore. That there was no erasing this woman from his soul.
It was difficult for him to imagine her being engaged to another man when she’d been his, but he appreciated her honesty, which was something she’d given him this past week, as well as glimpses of the strong, independent woman she’d become. And as a result, he was coming to realize that he still felt something for Tess Monroe. That beyond the pain of losing her, all those emotions he’d buried after her departure eight years ago were gradually finding their way back to the surface.
This wasn’t a good thing. Not at all, he thought with a frown. Whatever was between him and Tess now was supposed to be all about seducing her, and nothing about falling hard for her all over again. She was a brief summer fling, nothing more, and he’d do well to remember that since she had no intention of sticking around once the house was repaired and sold.
With that thought firmly embedded in his mind, he abruptly stood. “I better get back to work so I can get this porch finished before the sun sets.”
“Okay.” She stared at him curiously, obviously a bit perplexed by his sudden shift in mood. Slowly, she stood, too, and gathered up the empty plate and tumbler. “I guess I’ll go and put together a care package for you to take home.”
Morgan watched her go, and exhaled a harsh breath. Without a doubt, the woman was turning him inside out—emotionally and physically. And because he refused to succumb to his feelings for her once again, it was time to turn up the heat between them and start the process of getting her out of his system, once and for all.