Chapter 25
Rory
I kiss him.
I tilt my head up and meet his lips and the moment they touch, a happy hum reverberates through Morgan’s chest and into mine. His hands return to my face, gently tracing my features with his thumb while our lips play softly together.
Underneath my palm, Morgan’s rock hard. The moment he placed my hand there I felt like I lit on fire. The one-eighty from his inspection of my teeth gave me whiplash, but the best kind.
I slide my hand up to his waistband and tug. Morgan closes the tiny space between us and leans into me, his mouth firmly against mine, his kiss getting harder as his erection presses into me. My back hits the door and I tilt my hips to meet his.
He moves, running kisses down my jaw to the pulse point under my ear, and I sigh and shift against him. My fingers graze the edge of his jeans to the back where I can pull him closer—as if we could get closer—and I barely notice when somewhere nearby a car door slams shut.
“Morgan—”
His mouth is on mine again, this time it’s forceful and he’s asking me to let him in and I do. Morgan gives me these sweeping, open kisses, our tongues just barely teasing each other with every dip, and my heart’s beating so loudly I think I can hear it in my ears instead of inside my chest.
Wait, those are footsteps.
The moment I realize it there’s a crash on the other side of the door. I feel it in my bones in an instant, and then I’m pulled away, Morgan spinning me to put his body between mine and the door. Princess barks madly and rushes to the front window, growling.
This time I don’t mistake the footsteps running away for my own heartbeat, and Morgan throws the door open.
“Pervert!” someone shouts, and then a truck—big, black, and shiny—peels away from the curb.
We both watch Morgan’s brother drive down the street.
“What the fuck?” Morgan shouts as the truck squeals around the corner.
He stands amid a mess, the porch littered with gleaming plastic and bulky shapes. The porch light isn’t on, so I retreat into the house and flip the switch.
“What the actual fuck?” Morgan says again, this time looking down. I follow his gaze.
There are sex toys on the porch. Lots of sex toys. They are all in plastic packages, and there’s all kinds of them. I spy a Rabbit, a butt plug, the glint of metal nipple clamps . . .
Morgan starts laughing with an edge of hysteria and bewilderment. “What the fuck?” he repeats. “It rained sex toys on my porch.”
There’s also a large cardboard box slumped on its side against the front of the house. I step carefully over to it and pick it up. The bottom’s busted out, and the packing tape at the top has been sliced open.
There’s a label with Morgan’s address on it, written out to Morgan Law and Rory Fox.
“Someone mailed us this.”
Morgan turns and runs a hand through his hair. “Seriously?” He takes a step toward me and leans down to read the address. He looks back down at the X-rated debris around us. “Who is it from?”
The only return address is the local UPS store, and I turn the cardboard around looking for clues. On the side of the box is a brand name that I recognize. Even if I didn’t, the sketch of the coffee machine on the side would give it away.
“This box,” I say, holding the drawing up to him. “This is from a very expensive coffee machine.”
“More expensive than the five dollars I paid for the coffee machine I bought you?” His lips curl into a half smile.
“More expensive than the five-hundred-dollar coffee machine I bought myself.”
Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up.
“This is a fifteen-hundred-dollar espresso machine. Someone has expensive taste.”
“Expensive taste in coffee,” he says, looking around again. “And a lewd mind. Let’s gather this stuff up.”
I fix the box as best I can and hold the bottom while Morgan scoops up the toys and deposits them back inside. Once we’re done, he opens the door for me. “Let’s take it in the kitchen.”
Princess bounds up to me, sniffing loudly at the box. Morgan picks up his phone off the coffee table and types something in before following me.
I set the box on the counter and we peer in together. Each toy is still in its plastic packaging; sometimes there’s even price tags.
“This is . . . quite the collection,” he says. Our gazes meet and we both burst into laughter.
“What are we going to do with all this?”
“I have a few ideas.”
The memory of the kiss comes roaring back to me, and I flush.
We both start pulling out the sex toys. “Some of these are clearly meant for you,” he says, putting the Rabbit on the counter. “And some of these are meant for me.” He pulls out a cock ring, which starts a pile on the opposite side of the counter.
When we’re about halfway through, Morgan asks me, “Which one is your favorite?”
Some of these I haven’t used, but there is one that I’ve always wanted—one that has a small cup that sucks while it vibrates. I pick it up.
Morgan plucks it out of my hand. “Good, that’s definitely a keeper.”
The fucker puts it in his pile, and now I have to try to push images of us using it together out of my mind. He smirks at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, but then he straightens and plucks his phone out of his back pocket. He taps the screen, his face shifting to friendliness. “Hello.”
I hear Kit’s voice. “What’s this about a box of sex toys?”
Morgan laughs and sets the phone against the wall, so it’s propped up. I lean into the camera and wave just in time to see another caller join—Bailey and Silas appear together.
For a few minutes, there’s a flurry of people joining the call, some of whom I don’t know—and a lot of exclamations of “what the fuck?” as Morgan retells the story several times.
“My brother must have stolen it off my porch, thinking it was a fancy coffee machine. I guess he wasn’t interested in the resale value of enough toys to stock a generous nightstand,” Morgan jokes. “Did one of you do this? As a prank?”
“No, but I wish I’d thought of it,” Kit says.
“Maybe you should call the police,” Hunter adds. It’s not a bad idea—if Graham stole in a moment of opportunity, what will he do when he has time to plan?
Silas clears his throat. “We got one too. Kind of.”
“WHAT?” several people shout at once. Then it’s kinda mayhem while people talk over each other until everyone shuts up enough to let Silas explain.
“It wasn’t a big box like this,” he says. “It was just one . . . uh . . . toy.”
Hunter groans. “I did not need to know this.”
“There was a note,” Bailey adds.
I’m picking through the rest of what’s in the box when I notice a white corner underneath a copy of The Joy of Sex. I fish it out and hold it up. It’s an envelope with both our names on it.
Morgan gestures for me to open it.
“‘Dear Mr. Law and soon to be Mrs. Law—or Mrs. Fox, or whichever last name you choose.’” I raise an eyebrow.
“‘Some generous Herevians would like to facilitate marital bliss in the bedroom. We hope you enjoy at least a few of these items and remember that open communication is the best aphrodisiac.’” I flip the card over—nothing on the back. “It’s signed ex-oh.”
Several voices talk over each other and Morgan raises a hand. “There’s too many of us to talk at once. Best guesses, start with Kit, go!”
“Whitney Macy!” he shouts like he’s on a game show.
“That’s my vote too. It could be some sneaky marketing campaign,” someone adds.
I have no idea who Whitney Macy is or why she would be marketing sex toys until Morgan whispers to me, “Her sex advice podcast is one of the worst-kept secrets in Here.”
They take turns throwing out other names.
I don’t know any of them, and it starts to feel weird that I’m having a conversation about sex toys at all with complete strangers, instigated by even more complete strangers mailing us “marital aids.” I have enough meddling with my grandmother, the rest of these nosy bodies can fuck off.
I try to swipe the suction toy from Morgan’s pile and he smacks my hand away with a grin. I give up and sweep my pile into my arms and take them back to my bedroom.
I pause between the two doors. My room on the right, Morgan’s on the left.
We just divided up these toys. We also just made out.
If we hadn’t been interrupted, where would we be now?
I run my tongue over my teeth, a conscious move this time. Morgan says he’s attracted to me, that my teeth don’t bother him.
But that’s what my ex-girlfriend said too. She called me hot at first. And then it was teasing little remarks. Jokes in private. Then jokes in public. Then jokes that everyone laughed at but me.
I shoulder my door open and dump the toys on the bed. They’re mine, not ours.