The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,39
twisted up into knots over that kiss he still felt on his lips and tongue.
“I have no clue.”
“Well, I’ve never seen him lose control like this, but you don’t have to worry. He won’t do anything stupid.”
“Stupid?”
“Yeah, I mean I saw your reaction when he slammed his fist on the table. He gets frustrated, but he would never touch you.” Peter paused, and his dark eyes twinkled. “Unless you want him to.”
Fire leaped to his cheeks. “There’s nothing between us.”
“I’m not going to say anything except you’re lucky Marla didn’t come along for the ride.”
Morgan struggled to hold off a smile. “She’s great, but yeah, I know that.”
Georgie drove up to the front of the building, and with Peter’s help, they muscled Leo into the building. Morgan dug his keys out of his jeans and opened the door to the darkened apartment. Peter half walked, half dragged him inside.
“Tell Leo I’ll bring his bike tomorrow. See you soon.”
“Thanks for your help. It was nice to meet you.” Morgan laughed. “Seems funny to say that after all that went down.”
Peter fist-bumped him on the shoulder. “I know what you mean.” He left, closing the door behind him with a quiet snick.
Morgan wasn’t so sure, but he had bigger issues to deal with, like Leo gazing at him through heavy-lidded, reddened eyes.
“Okay, buddy boy. Let’s get you into bed. You’re gonna have a hell of a hangover, but that’s what you get for drinking too much.”
Leo, perhaps sensing he was home, decided to get frisky and nuzzled Morgan’s neck. “Mmm. Smell good.” He kissed under Morgan’s ear and nipped at the lobe. “Taste good too. So hot.” The warm slide of his lips continued along Morgan’s neck, and when Morgan tried to pull away, Leo palmed his ass and ground their hips together. “Knew you’d feel amazing.”
“You’re drunk. Come on, Leo. You don’t know what you’re doing. I bet you don’t even know who I am.”
He should’ve done the right thing and left Leo alone, but he’d never listened to his head when his heart was involved, and he knew he could easily give himself up to the magic sparking through him. Leo squeezed his ass, and the firm thrust of his erection felt so damn good after more than a year of celibacy, Morgan’s resolve started to crumble. When Leo sat on the bed, Morgan followed, holding in the sigh of pleasure when Leo put his arms around him and pulled him down.
“I know you’re Morgan. Sweet, sweet Morgan. I tried to be good. Don’t leave me alone. Stay with me.”
To his shock, tears streaked down Leo’s cheeks, and Morgan lay in the dark, unable to let Leo go.
* * *
TWELVE
* * *
Death would be preferable to moving. Leo lay very still, but his head throbbed as if some very bad drummer from an ’80s acid rock band lived inside his brain and decided at that moment to practice his skills.
He tried to open his eyes, but the room spun in a lazy circle, and he quickly closed them, not wanting to get sick. He could stay in bed and suffer silently, at least for the morning.
God, what the fuck happened last night to set him off the rails?
Carefully, he rolled to his side, hoping that would ease the pain in his skull. A foot hit his.
That wasn’t his foot. Leo stiffened.
Who was in the bed with him?
He cracked open his eyes to see a lump under the covers. The man’s head rested on the pillow, mouth open, hair tumbled in messy waves around his forehead. Leo’s heart banged hard.
What the hell?
The naked foot brushed against his again, and Morgan Cantrell shifted closer to him.
Shit.
What the hell did he do last night, and God help him if the answer was Morgan Cantrell. Leo wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he’d had sex with the man while he was so drunk.
He reached under the covers and breathed a sigh of relief when he found himself still fully dressed. If he and Morgan had fucked, he wouldn’t have his clothes on.
That didn’t answer the question—why in the ever-loving fresh hell was Morgan Cantrell in his bed?
Slightly more awake now, Leo lay flat on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together the disaster of the previous evening. Remnants of conversations fluttered around the misty edges of his half-pickled brain. He recalled being angry with Peter…being outside in the backyard…sitting with Morgan…
Oh, crap.
He sneaked a peek at the sleeping Morgan.
He’d kissed