Chapter 13 – Morgan
13
MY MILKSHAKES brINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD
MORGAN
I barely managed to glance at the clock when I realized with a jolt that it was already 4:30 in the afternoon. My stomach dropped as I blinked in disbelief. I'd been so caught up trying to recreate the intricate beading pattern from the purse I'd carried at my sister's wedding for a new skirt design that I'd completely forgotten about coffee with Amber. The purse tipped as I reached for it, spilling its contents across my desk—lipstick, tissues, a condom, and that damn Westhorpe room key I’d accidentally picked up in my haste to run. My cheeks burned as I swept them into my larger bag, memories of Lance's hands, his mouth, the way he'd?—
"Shit," I muttered under my breath, forcing those thoughts away. I rolled my chair back, trying to catch a glimpse of her workstation at the back. When I didn't see her, I grabbed my phone off the desk to text her, only to find out she'd texted me thirty minutes ago.
Guilt twisted in my stomach as I quickly typed out an apology.
Me: I’m so sorry! Got swamped. How about drinks at 6? My treat.
I was hoping she wouldn’t be pissed, and thankfully, her reply came within seconds.
Amber: Don’t even worry about it! Let’s do drinks at Griffin’s on 5 th . Six p.m. You better spill everything.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
As six o'clock rolled around, I hurried out of the Co-op, grateful to finally escape the mess of the day. The idea of a drink—or several—seem like a godsend.
I arrived at Griffin’s to find Amber already there, waiting in a corner booth with two gin and tonics in front of her. No way I was going to tell her I wasn’t twenty-one yet. She looked up with a grin as I slid into the seat across from her.
“Rough day?” she asked, pushing one of the glasses toward me.
“You have no idea,” I said, taking a long sip. Gin and Tonic. “Work was insane. I’m sorry I missed coffee earlier.”
Amber waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Drinks are better anyway. But you, missy, owe me some good gossip. What happened?”
I took a deep breath, feeling the tension from the day start to unwind as I settled into the booth. “Okay, so it’s this guy at work. He’s driving me absolutely insane. One minute, he’s overbearing and controlling, and the next, he’s broody and intense, and I can’t figure him out.”
Amber raised an eyebrow, her interest clearly piqued. “So obviously he works with you. Is it your boss?”
“No,” I said, swirling my drink in the glass. Better to tell her as little as possible. “But he’s been there long enough to rearrange my entire life if he wants to. And he’s acting jealous because I was talking to someone. And sure, he got me the job, but I just feel like I’m under his thumb.”
Her eyes widened. “He got you the job?”
“Yes.” I sighed, taking another sip. Then told her the story from the beginning, leaving out names. “And the worst part is, I don’t know why he’s doing it. One minute, he’s infuriating, and the next, he’s… I don’t know, making me feel like there’s more to us.”
Amber leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “More to you how?”
I hesitated, the memory of Lance pinning me against the wall in the stairwell flashing through my mind. I could still feel the heat of his hands on my skin, the way his lips had claimed mine like he couldn’t help himself. “It’s complicated. He’s just… difficult.”
“Sounds like you’ve got some serious tension going on with this guy,” Amber said, her grin widening. “Maybe you just need to bang it out.”
I flushed, looking away. “It’s not like that. Besides, I already tried that to disastrous results.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, her tone teasing. “Come on, Morgan. I’ve seen that look before. It’s always ‘not like that’ until it’s exactly like that.”
I rolled my eyes, but a small part of me knew she wasn’t wrong. “He just pushes all my buttons, you know? It’s like he knows exactly how to get under my skin. And I hate it.”
Amber nodded knowingly, taking a sip of her drink. “So what are you going to do about it? You can’t let some asshole at work run your life.”
“I know, but he’s making it impossible,” I admitted, frustration bubbling up again. “It’s like he’s trying to control everything, both at work and outside of it.”
Amber’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Sounds like you need to remind this guy that he doesn’t get to call the shots. He might think he’s in control, but it’s time to show him he’s not.”
I furrowed my brow. “How?”
Amber leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Okay, hear me out. I had an ex who was a total control freak. After we broke up, I was still so mad, and my best friend came up with the perfect idea to get back at him.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?”
“Milk,” she said, her eyes lighting up with wicked glee.
“Milk?” I repeated, confused.
“Yep. We got a couple of gallons of milk and sprayed it all over his apartment. The carpets, the furniture, the vents—anywhere we could think of. It took a few days, but eventually, the place smelled like death. He had to throw out half his stuff.”
I stared at her, my jaw dropping. “You did what ?”
Amber shrugged, a smug smile on her face. “Hey, he deserved it. And it was so satisfying. He never knew it was me, either.”
I blinked, my mind racing with the possibilities. The thought of Lance’s pristine, sleek penthouse—the one he used as a fuck pad, the place he fucked me and then treated me so coldly—reeking of spoiled milk was absurd. Ridiculous, even. But God, it would be satisfying. And it would kill whatever mojo he had going on in that place.
“That’s… insane,” I said, but I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face.
Amber leaned back in her seat, eyes gleaming. “It’s genius, is what it is. A little chaos to remind him that he’s not untouchable. Trust me, it’ll mess with him in ways you can’t even imagine.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.”
“Why not?” Amber said, her grin widening. “He’s been screwing with your life. It’s time to screw with his.”
I took a long sip of my drink, the idea settling in my mind. Maybe this was exactly what I needed. Lance had been messing with me for weeks, and I was tired of being the one on the losing end. Maybe it was time to play my own game.
“You know what?” I said, my heart racing with excitement. “Let’s do it.”
Amber clapped her hands together, her face lighting up with glee. “Yes! This is going to be amazing. I’ll grab the supplies, and we’ll hit his place tonight.”
By the time we finished our drinks and dinner, we had the plan all worked out. We’d grab a couple gallons of milk, some spray bottles, and a few towels to clean up any evidence. Then, we’d sneak into the penthouse and give his fancy fuck pad a makeover.
I still had the key I’d accidentally grabbed on the way out that night.
“This is going to be epic ,” Amber said as we left the restaurant, her arm linked with mine. “I wish I could see the look on his face when he walks into a place that smells like spoiled milk.”
I laughed, the adrenaline buzzing in my veins. “He’s going to lose his mind.”
He’s going to kill you when he finds out.
Lance
I sat in the dark, the soft hum of the city outside doing nothing to quiet the storm inside me. The loft was eerily silent, too empty without Morgan chattering a mile a minute. I stared at my phone lying on the table, facedown, refusing to check it again for the tenth time in five minutes. My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Ten thirty.
Where the hell was she?
I hadn’t started worrying until around nine when I realized she wasn’t back yet. I’d texted her twice and called her. Nothing. And that gnawing feeling in my gut, the one I’d been trying to ignore all day since that kiss in the stairwell, started morphing into something darker, something heavier.
My fingers tightened around the armrest, my knuckles going white. The kiss replayed in my head on an endless loop—the taste of her lips, the way she’d responded, and then the moment she pulled back, eyes wide and full of fire. She’d pushed me away like she’d been burned, but not before kissing me back like she’d never wanted to stop.
I was teetering on an edge of control I couldn’t find purchase on.
Because of her.
I kept telling myself that she was just out blowing off some steam. But another part of me—the part that had spent the last few hours pacing the loft—was worried that she was running from me, from what happened in that stairwell. From us .
And maybe a month ago, I would have let her run. It would have been safer, cleaner—the right thing to do. But that kiss changed everything. It wasn't just hunger or need. It was recognition. Trust . The way she'd melted into me, let down every guard she had... that wasn't just passion. That was surrender.
If she didn’t walk through that door in the next ten minutes, I was going after her.
I wasn’t trying to control her. Hell, this wasn’t about control. It was about knowing she was safe.
And if she was with someone else… Well, whoever it was would be dealing with a very different side of me.
Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard the faint click of the front door lock disengaging. My head snapped up, and the tension coiled in my body, ready to spring. The door creaked open slowly, and there she was.
Morgan stepped inside, her hair a little mussed, her cheeks flushed, and there was a slight wobble to her step.
Relief flooded me, but it was quickly followed by a sharp bite of anger.
She didn’t notice me at first, too busy taking off her shoes by the door. Then she froze, her gaze locking on me sitting there in the dark. Her eyes widened. “Lance? Jesus, why are you sitting in the dark like a psycho?”
I stood up slowly, trying to keep my voice calm and controlled, even though everything inside me was a mess. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
She blinked, clearly surprised by my tone. “My phone must’ve been on silent,” she said, slurring slightly. “I didn’t realize.”
That’s when I smelled it—the faint whiff of alcohol on her breath. She’d been drinking. Enough to make her a little tipsy.
Great.
“I texted you. Called you,” I said, my voice low, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You didn’t respond to anything, Morgan. I’ve been sitting here wondering if something happened to you. Or if you ran from me.”
She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by my concern. “Something happened? Like what? I was with my new friend. Amber. I told you I was going out.”
Didn’t she see how worried I was? Didn’t she give a fuck? “I want to make sure, Morgan. Are you asking for a spanking right now?”
All I got was an eye roll. “I dare you to try. Besides, I’m not even that late. What are you, Dad?”
“You didn’t tell me you’d be gone all night,” I shot back. “You said you’d be home by nine.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I lost track of time. It’s not a big deal. Besides, what would you have done if I did run?”
My jaw clenched. “I would have come to get you and dragged you right back here. Like I told you. I’m looking after you now. So deal with it.” I ran my hands through my hair.
She sighed, exasperated, wobbling slightly as she moved to the kitchen. “You’re overreacting. I’m fine. I’m a grown woman, Lance. I don’t need to check in with you whenever I go somewhere.”
I followed her, barely keeping my temper in check. “I’m not asking you to check in , Morgan. I’m asking you not to make me think something happened to you. I didn’t know where you were. You didn’t answer. I thought maybe you…” I trailed off, swallowing the rest of my words.
She turned to face me, her eyes narrowing as if she could sense the deeper meaning in my words.
“What? You thought I was leaving? Because of—” She shook her head. “Because of what happened?” Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotion beneath her bravado.
I stiffened. “I don’t know, Morgan. You tell me. Were you?”
Her eyes darkened, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to yell at me, to tear me apart for asking that. But then she surprised me by slumping against the counter, her head dropping forward.
“I wasn’t running,” she muttered, almost too quietly for me to hear. “But maybe I should’ve.”
The knot in my chest tightened. “Why?”
She looked up, her gaze meeting mine, and I could see the exhaustion, the frustration, and something else—something that looked a hell of a lot like hurt. “Because, Lance. How could you do that to me?”
“Did I hurt you?” I breathed.
Her brow furrowed. “What? No.”
I swallowed hard. “D-d-didn’t you want it?” Fucking hell. If I’d done something she didn’t want, I would kick my own ass, then submit myself to Atticus to kill me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her.
“I did, but—” She broke off and started again. “The kiss… the whole thing in the stairwell,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but getting louder with each sentence as she continued. “I was almost four months Lance sober. Four months of trying to get over you and what happened after the wedding. And now I have to start all over again!”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “So when you said you didn’t want to think about that night again, that you wanted to forget…” I let my voice trail. I had tried staying away. Pretending away. Shoving away. But now, Now, I was letting myself be selfish enough to take.
She laughed bitterly, pushing her hair out of her face, pieces of it starting to curl as the strands met sweaty skin. “Of course I said that. With you, it’s better if I forget. And damn I was close. But you just had to go and kiss me again. You moved on like it didn’t happen. It took everything in me to pull myself together after you kicked me out, and then… Then you go and kiss me again!”
I stepped closer to her, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “You think that was easy for me? Jesus, Morgan. That night has haunted me every single day since.”
My voice came out rough, strained.
She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine as if she didn’t know whether to believe me or not. “Why did you push me away after?” she asked, her voice cracking.
I raked a hand through my hair, frustrated as hell. “Because I thought I was doing what was best for you.”
She scoffed. “Of course. Because I’m a kid, right? God, why did you even touch me to begin with? Congratulations. You did such a great job of ‘protecting’ me that now I have to deal with this all over again.”
My chest tightened. “What do you want me to say, Morgan? That I regret kissing you? Touching you? Because I don’t. Not for a second. But I didn’t plan on it, either. Why didn’t you tell me to stop?”
“I couldn’t ,” she said, her voice trembling. “I needed it. And that’s the problem.”
Her words hung between us, heavy and charged, the tension crackling in the air. Neither of us moved for a moment, both of us too caught in the storm of what had been left unsaid for far too long.
I’d fucked up. I could see it in her eyes. And even now, I wanted her. The craving I tried to smother, seeping out of its cage. I closed the distance between us, my fingers brushing against her arm. “I won’t touch you again…Unless you ask.”
She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I won’t ask. Even I’m not that much of a masochist.”
I nodded, stepping back slightly to give her some space. I knew it was a lie. Because, she, like me was wound too tight. Too revved up. Too desperate. We were going to cross the line…again. The question now was, how much destruction were we going to leave in our wake? And was it worth it? “Fair enough. Get your ass to bed.”
She raised an eyebrow at me, a hint of her usual defiance flickering in her eyes. “Stop bossing me around!”
I muttered, “Get your ass to bed before I forget our little pinky swear just now, and I put you over my lap and spank you for making me worry. I’m not having you pass out on the kitchen floor.”
She huffed but didn’t argue as she padded toward the stairs. I followed her to make sure she didn’t topple over. Or maybe you like the view.
Once upstairs, I leaned against the doorframe, watching as she brushed her teeth and washed her face, her movements slower than usual, her exhaustion evident.
“What are the chances you’ll be sleeping on the couch?” she mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste, glancing at me in the mirror.
“Nil,” I said, my arms crossed. “It’s my bed.”
She sighed but didn’t push the issue. When she was finally ready for bed, I led her to the bed, pulling the covers back for her. She crawled in, her body sinking into the mattress with a contented sigh. I handed her the water and Tylenol I’d set aside earlier.
“Take these. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
She downed them without protest, her eyelids drooping as she settled back against the pillows.
She was nearly out, her breathing evening out as she drifted off. I stood there for a moment longer, watching her sleep, the knot in my chest loosening just a little. I didn’t know what the hell we were doing, but I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t letting her go this time.
As I turned to leave the room, her soft voice pulled me back. “Why are you dressed like that?”
I glanced down at the all-black outfit I hadn’t bothered to change out of, the one I wore because I thought I might have to go after her.
“Because I thought I was going to have to come for you,” I said quietly.
Silently, I added, And possibly kill someone to get to you.
But I kept that part to myself.