Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
"I'm not going to apologize for what you walked in on."
"Is this where you tell me not to open doors before you give me permission?"
"That goes without saying," I mutter.
I might have had to seriously beat his ass if he had walked in a few minutes later. I can't even imagine the rage I'd feel if we were further progressed with what I know would've happened had we not been interrupted. If he's seen her even partially naked, I might have to rip his eyes out.
I pull in a deep breath. I'm not usually a rageful guy, but there's something about Morgan that makes me want to protect her from everyone in the world, including teammates who don't know how to wait for a door to be opened.
"What are your intentions with her?"
"Do you really feel like you have a right to that answer?" I challenge, my irritation growing with every passing second.
He straightens, and I don't miss the way his fists clench at his sides. I straighten, too, getting ready to act if he decides to take this in a different direction than us talking this out.
"I think that she's recently had a trauma, and it's a shitty thing to do if you're just trying to get in her pants."
I can't help the humorless huff that rushes past my lips.
"That is not what you walked in on," I assure him.
"Her hand on your dick isn't you trying to get in her pants?" he growls.
"I really like her," I counter. "A lot. It's not just about getting her naked."
His eyes search mine for a few long seconds. I don't know what he sees, but there's a switch in him.
His shoulders sag, and he looks a little defeated.
"Okay," he mutters before turning around and walking out of the room.
It leaves me standing there wondering what in the hell just happened. I know better than to chase after him, but we haven't settled anything either.
I'll give him the time and space he needs, but I know this small conversation won't be the end of it.
I'm not concerned that he's going to do something crazy, but at the same time, I'm starting to feel a little more protective over Morgan than I had before. I don't think he's the type of man to push his luck and make her uncomfortable.
The walk back upstairs is slow, but instead of going to the conference room and finding some work to do, I head to my room.
The strobe light is still flashing, and the chair Morgan sat on is still in the center of the room. Although I know we needed to pump the brakes, I still feel a little disappointed to find my room void of her.
I stand in the middle of the room, hands on the back of the chair, wondering if I should go knock on her door and pick up where we left off. I know it's best to get a little separation and to let things cool down, but having that knowledge doesn't make me crave her any less.
I feel as if the woman is in my blood somehow, each pump of my heart making me think of her. It's obsessive and a little too strong, making me want to pull back some because I still can't forget that Henry put her in my path for a reason. It'll always be in the back of my head that she's some kind of pawn in a sick joke he's making me live through.
Instead of staying in the room and questioning what I should or shouldn't do, I head back downstairs, grab an energy drink from the fridge, and go to the conference room.
It isn't long before the guys from New Mexico come in, glad that their wives changed their minds before they went to the show. It gives me the exact distraction that I need to keep me from finding Morgan and doing something we both might regret.
Everyone is sitting around the conference room chatting and having a good time. When Kincaid asks where Twisted is since he's the only one absent from the room, I keep my mouth shut.
Chapter 25
Morgan
"It's just a breakfast date," I mutter, trying to get better control of a rogue strand of hair that just will not cooperate this morning. "Can't even call it a date since we're living in the same damn house."
After trying to get it to lie down the way I like for what seems like the millionth time, I press frustrated hands to the bathroom counter and stare at myself in the mirror. My cheeks have been flushed, and my heart has been racing since I got the early morning text from Robert asking me to meet him in the kitchen for breakfast.
I can't recall the last time I got this excited to meet up with a guy. I'm usually a jump in bed with someone and not worry what the next day looks like kind of girl. I can say that I'm grateful he's taking it slow and sort of forcing us to get to know each other before we take that step.