She was wearing a pair of jeans that cupped her ass and made her legs look even longer, with a green T-shirt the exact color of her eyes. Her still-damp hair was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing the elegant curve of her neck.
She spied Elvis eating the last of the food in his bowl and shot me a look of pleasant surprise.
“Thank you for feeding him.”
I walked over and pulled her into my arms. “You’re welcome, and good morning, babe.”
“Morning,” she replied. After a fleeting moment of hesitation, she stretched up onto her toes to press a kiss to my jaw. I turned my head and captured her lips with mine. She tasted of minty toothpaste and vanilla lip balm.
“I can’t believe I overslept,” she said, once I reluctantly let her go. “I hate to pay for booth space, only to waste it by running late.”
The grumpy expression on her face was adorable, but I was smart enough not to tell her that right this moment, since I strongly preferred to keep my balls intact.
“As long as we don’t run into traffic, you should be fine,” I assured her as she slung her huge purse over her shoulder. “I made you a breakfast sandwich to eat in the car, since I figured you wouldn’t have time to eat here.”
She flashed a grateful smile at me as I handed her the travel mug, and the TrickMuffin wrapped in a paper towel.
“You, sir, are an angel among men,” she said, saluting me with her coffee as we walked toward the front door.
I gave her an exaggerated leer and waggled my eyebrows. “An angel in the streets and a devil in the sheets.”
She paused in the act of punching the code into the alarm keypad, then turned and very deliberately eyed me up and down. “Hmmm, it’s a shame I don’t have time to test that theory right now.” I wasn’t sure if she’d done it on purpose, but her voice sounded even throatier and sexier than usual, and I was in imminent danger of popping wood right there in the living room.
I followed her to the studio and spent most of the ride wondering how it would feel to have her on the back of my bike.
From the time I’d gotten my first Harley, I’d followed the Morgan family’s tradition of not putting random ass women on the back, as that was an honor reserved for someone special…either family or someone you could picture as your Ol’ Lady someday.
Since I’d never been remotely tempted to settle the fuck down, no one had ever ridden with me except for my mom. I’d taken her for a few rides when I got my Harley, shortly before I prospected for the MC. Mom hadn’t been a fan.
“I think I’ll stick to vehicles with four wheels from now on, Jason,” she’d told me after our last ride together. When I’d wrecked that bike a few months later and ended up with a broken leg, it had only solidified her opinion.
She’d taken a red marker and written a message on my cast in huge letters, “I told you four wheels are better than two. Love, Mom.” I hadn’t had the nerve to tell her that I’d only been ononewheel at the time, since I was popping wheelies when the bike slid out from under me.
I tried to imagine Lauren sitting behind me now, her arms around my waist, breasts pressed against my back, with her thick thighs cradling me. I figured out real damned quick that it was uncomfortable as hell to ride with a chubbed-up dick pressing against your zipper, so I was thankful when we pulled into the parking lot at the recording studio a minute later.
When we walked into the single-story building, I noticed a keypad mounted on the outside wall next to the door.
“Is that door always unlocked?” I asked Lauren as I glanced around the lobby. There was a small waiting area, with a reception desk directly in front. Just past the desk, long hallways extended in both directions, as well as a shorter hallway behind it leading toward the back of the building.
“During regular hours, yes. If we rent booth space after five o’clock, the building is locked and we’re given an access code for the keypad to get in.”
“Is there normally someone sitting here?” I motioned to the unoccupied reception desk.
“Usually,” she replied, before motioning me past the desk and down the hallway to the left. “The receptionist is around here somewhere, I’m sure.”
She spent the next ten minutes giving me a building tour. The hallway on the left had several large control rooms used primarily for recording audio for radio commercials.
“If the red light is on,” she said, pointing at the light fixtures above each doorway, “that means recording is in session, so everyone knows not to interrupt.”
She waved toward the back hallway. “There is a large studio at the end of the hall that’s used for music recording. Mostly for commercial jingles, or local bands cutting a demo. The owner of the building has an office in that hallway, too, but she’s not here very often. There’s also an office for the custodian, JD, as well as a supply room.”
I followed her down the hallway on the right side of the building. The first room we came to was the staff break room, where we found an older man making a pot of coffee.
He looked up and smiled when Lauren greeted him, then frowned slightly as he noticed me trailing behind her – or more precisely, when he noticed my cut. It wasn’t an unusual reaction, and I tried not to let it piss me off too much anymore.
“JD, this is Trick. He’s…uh…” Lauren trailed off and looked at me for help, so I jumped in with an explanation.
“Lauren has been receiving some threatening emails. We think it’s her ex-fiancé stalking her, but until we find proof, there’s nothing the police can do.” Lauren shot me a startled glance, and I hoped she wouldn’t give away that little white lie. I sure as hell couldn’t tell the man that we didn’t want to kill the wrong guy. She must have understood because she gave a small nod.
