The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,71

of Leo would forever give Morgan butterflies, but he gathered his wits and said, “I bet I’d like being on top of you too.”

A smile crept into Leo’s eyes. “What’re we waiting for?”

***

“Jesus Christ, you’re killing me.” Leo groaned and cupped Morgan’s ass, driving upward into him. “Fuck. Oh fuck, yeah. That’s it.”

Teetering on the edge of an explosive orgasm, Morgan managed to put two brain cells together to tighten around Leo while still keeping his hand flying over his own painfully erect cock. Leo’s fingers bit into his waist, and Morgan knew he’d have some damn big bruises but didn’t mind. The thought of Leo marking him sent him tumbling over the edge, and he flung his head back, biting his lip. Leo pumped in deeper, and Morgan caught fire, the intimacy almost frightening in its intensity.

“Oh God, yeah. Right there. Right. There. Ahhhh.” His cock swelled, and he ground down on Leo and came, spurting hot and steady into his hand.

“Fucking hell, you’re gorgeous. Look at you.” Leo thrust hard, impaling Morgan on his thick shaft, sending him into oblivion, and he moaned and collapsed on top of Leo, feeling the heat and swell of his dick as he pumped through his climax. “You’re made for me.” In the haze of his orgasm, he felt Leo’s fingers play in his hair and heard him whisper, “You’re mine.”

Quivering and covered in sweat, Morgan couldn’t move, didn’t want to because if he did, the beauty of the moment would be broken. Leo too seemed content to hold him and stay like that, only moving once to get out of bed, throw out the condom, and return immediately to hold him close. Morgan traced the lines of Leo’s tattoos and kissed the skin, tasting his salt, bonding with his scent.

“Do they mean anything?” Morgan nuzzled his arm. “Your tattoos.”

“A few are Native American. The crossed arrows are for friendship. Peter and I got that one together. The feather is for courage and wisdom. Marla’s part Cherokee, and Peter wanted to honor her and I did as well. Then there’s a laurel wreath for triumph or victory, and an olive branch for peace. Both Greek because of my friendship with Peter.” Leo touched his other arm. “This one, in roman numerals, is the date of my father’s death. I put some flowers around it and an ancient Italian symbol of love. I looked it up on the Internet, and that’s what it said it looked like.”

Leo rolled over, his nude, magnificent body gleaming in the pale light filtering through the window blinds, and rested a cheek on one arm. “My turn now. Tell me more about your marriage and your ex.”

Morgan’s good mood faded. “I don’t want to talk about him. Why ruin a perfect evening?”

A foot ran up his leg, and Leo smiled. “It’s not going to change what happened between us. But I want to know about the guy who came before me.”

“I don’t even know who I was anymore when I was with him. I cringe every time I think of myself being so willing to give in to his every demand. I rolled over like a puppy for him and made myself so easy to hurt. But I’m not that person. No more. It’s like a death and rebirth.”

Face tense, Leo watched him with hooded eyes, saying nothing, and Morgan wanted him to know…needed Leo to hear him say it.

“I wish you were my first,” he said fervently. “I wish I’d never met him. Because what we have is special. And nothing like this has ever happened to me.” He turned on his side and slid his leg between Leo’s.

“Easy, Tiger. Give me a few minutes to catch my breath.” Leo snorted with laughter.

“No, that’s not what I was doing.” Morgan ghosted his fingers over Leo’s strong jaw and traced the smile on his lips. “I want to talk some more.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Leo teased, then captured his hand. “And you’re not that man. I don’t know that Morgan Cantrell. The guy I know who lives in 5C is feisty and a wiseass and gets me going whenever he opens that mouth with a sarcastic comeback.”

A warm glow settled in Morgan’s chest. “Gets you going, huh?”

Leo shifted closer. “Yeah. I don’t know about the sad, meek, mild person you described. You were strong enough to pick up and leave, and you’re making it on your own, even if you were kind of a walking disaster in