Chapter 34 – Morgan
Click Boom…
Morgan
"Rise and shine, gorgeous."
The man was evil.
It was really the only explanation.
Why the hell was he trying to wake me up?
The mattress dipped as Lance sat on the edge of the bed beside me. Through my closed eyelids, I sensed the shift in light as morning sun streamed through the windows he must have just opened. His hand, warm and gentle, traced the curve of my shoulder where it peeked out from the tangled sheets.
I whimpered and burrowed deeper under the sheets, pulling them over my head to block out both the light and his entirely too cheerful morning energy. My body still hummed with pleasant exhaustion, muscles aching in places I'd forgotten existed until last night.
"No, you don't. Wake up, love. Come on. I'm not trying to get you out of bed. I just want to know if you want regular butter croissants or the chocolate ones." His voice was low and amused, that familiar husky morning tone that did dangerous things to my insides despite my exhaustion.
I poked my head out from beneath the covers, blinking up at him. His hair was damp from a shower, dark strands falling across his forehead. He'd dressed in jeans and a simple gray t-shirt that clung to his shoulders in a way that reminded me of every reason we'd barely slept last night.
"How is that even a question, Lance? Obviously, I want the chocolate ones. And if they have donuts, bring donuts. And coffee." I tried to sound demanding, but my voice came out thick with sleep, almost a purr.
He laughed, the sound warming me from the inside out, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made my heart flutter. "You know I'm not bringing you donuts."
I gasped dramatically, throwing my arm across my forehead like a Victorian heroine about to swoon.
"I deserve a treat. You have broken me. I'm broken. I can't move." I draped an arm over my forehead. "I demand donuts." The sheet slipped lower as I gestured, revealing the curve of my breast.
His eyes darkened, tracking the movement of the sheet with an intensity that sent heat spiraling through me.
Another laugh, then a soft kiss pressed to my forehead, his lips lingering just a second longer than necessary.
His hand moved to cup my cheek, thumb brushing against my lower lip in a gesture both tender and possessive.
"All right. What my queen wants, my queen gets.
I'll grab an assortment. I do need your energy up. "
Something about the way he said it—half teasing, half serious—sent a delicious shiver down my spine. The ring on my finger caught the morning light, reminding me of everything that had changed between us. Everything we'd admitted. Everything we'd promised.
"Yes! Blowjobs for Lance when he returns." I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively, enjoying the way his pupils dilated at my words.
He choked out a laugh, and I winked up at him. He looked so good standing there—casual, sexy, my husband—and I honestly considered a blowjob just then. My gaze traveled down his body, lingering at the front of his jeans where I could already see his reaction to my suggestion.
His eyes darkened further, that rich blue turning almost navy with desire. "Morgan, I can see your face. You're a menace."
I bit my lip, knowing exactly what that did to him. "What? I just want to give my man a blowjob. How bad is that?" My voice dropped an octave, taking on the husky quality I knew drove him crazy.
"You, woman, are dangerous." He exhaled, shaking his head, his hand moving to adjust himself in his jeans. "I'm leaving. Because if I don't, my dick is going to end up back inside you, and God, I need to feed you. What kind of husband am I if I can't keep my wife fed?"
My heart did that strange little flip it always did when he called me his wife.
We'd been married for a month now, but it still felt new, still felt like a secret I was keeping from the world.
The future stretched before us, uncertain but thrilling, but in this moment, I could only think about him. About us.
"I do agree with that." I grabbed his t-shirt, yanking him down toward me, brushing my lips over his. The kiss was soft, almost chaste compared to last night's passion, but it held just as much meaning. "The best kind. One who loves me."
His expression softened, vulnerability replacing the desire in his eyes. "Oh, the best kind," he murmured.
His hand skimmed down my cheek, along my neck, to my collarbone, palm pressing warm and firm against my skin. The calluses on his fingers created a delicious friction that had me arching into his touch like a cat seeking affection.
"Fucking hell, Morgan," he groaned. "Why can't we stop? I can't seem to stop touching you." There was genuine wonder in his voice, as if after all this time, he still couldn't quite believe I was his.
"I know." I moaned softly, arching into him. The sheet slipped lower, and his gaze followed hungrily. "Maybe we don't have to stop."
He dragged in a breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Okay. We're stopping. Right now."
He didn't move.
I smirked, running my toe up the inside of his jeans-clad calf. "Are you sure about that?"
Fine. So we didn't stop right away. It took a little more convincing.
But eventually, thirty minutes later, Lance actually left.
He'd given me one last lingering kiss at the bedroom door, his lips swollen from my attention, his hair mussed where my fingers had clutched it.
The look he'd given me as he backed away promised more when he returned—there’d be more orgasms.
I managed to drag myself out of bed, my limbs aching in the best way, and stumbled into the shower.
My reflection in the bathroom mirror made me pause—hair wild, lips plump, small marks along my collarbone and breasts where Lance had gotten carried away.
I looked thoroughly fucked, thoroughly loved.
The woman in the mirror looked happy in a way I hadn't seen in a long time, maybe ever.
The hot water melted away the soreness, but I couldn't stop grinning to myself the entire time I lathered. The scent of Lance's shampoo filled the steamy bathroom, wrapping around me like an embrace. As I washed away the evidence of our night together, I replayed our conversation in my mind.
Even as I bent down to scrub my toes, I was still smiling.
After drying off, I grabbed one of the robes hanging on the back of the bathroom door—Lance's, not mine. It engulfed me, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips, the soft fabric carrying his scent. I padded downstairs, heading straight for coffee while I waited for Lance to return.
The house felt different this morning. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting patterns across the hardwood floors.
Everything looked the same, but in the light of day, after last night's confessions, the same space felt transformed.
This wasn't just Lance's place anymore—it was ours. A home.
I was just reaching for a mug when I heard it.
The boom.
The entire house rattled as the sound tore through the morning silence, a violent intrusion into our perfect morning. Picture frames rattled on the walls. A glass tumbled from the counter, shattering on the floor at my feet.
My stomach clenched, a cold knot of dread replacing the warmth I'd felt only moments before.
A second later, glass shattered from the direction of Lance's office. My heart slammed into my ribs, a painful staccato that echoed in my ears. Something was wrong.
Something was very , very wrong.
I ran into Lance's office, my pulse roaring in my ears, bare feet crunching on bits of glass as I skidded to a halt just inside the doorway. The acrid smell of smoke filled my nostrils, making my eyes water.
The windows were gone, a fine layer of dust and glass shards covering the floor. Papers from Lance's desk fluttered in the breeze now flowing freely through the gaping hole where his picture window had been. The curtains hung in tatters, swaying in the wind.
But nothing else seemed out of place.
Then I saw it. Through the broken window, Lance's parking spot.
His car.
Gone .
Or rather—obliterated.
A fiery inferno in its place, flames leaping twenty feet into the air, black smoke billowing into the clear morning sky. Metal twisted and warped, barely recognizable as the sleek vehicle that had carried him away from me less than ten minutes ago.
"Lance," I screamed, my voice breaking on his name as my legs gave out beneath me.
Thank you so much for reading HIGH STAKES!