Over an hour later, Morgan’s knot finally eases. I do my best not to think about it, for fear of clenching and arousing her again, and that’s probably why she gives me no warning when she suddenly tugs it out.
I gasp as the sensation sends lightning through my exhausted muscles, warmth coating my thighs as her spend pours out of me.
Morgan gives a low chuckle. “Tsk tsk. You just ruined averyexpensive couch.”
“It’syourcum.”
“Let’s get you to the shower.” She stretches, and I hear bones pop.
Morgan scoops me off the couch, and her feline features have started to fade. Her face and height are mostly back to normal, but her teeth and ears remain lengthened. She carries me to the shower, and once there, Morgan doesn’t let me lift a finger.
She lathers me up and pulls me under the warm stream of water, careful to keep the collar dry as her hands sweep down my body, gentle fingers tracing the fresh scratches that mark me as hers.
My libido is fully exhausted, but the sensation is still… transcendent. Every nerve glows.
Morgan trails kisses down my shoulders, and we stand there until most of her cum has drained out of me.
Then she wraps me in a cloud-soft towel and pulls me into bed, curling around me, arms closing around my chest as her chin tucks over my head.
Emotion hits me like a tidal wave. I was sure I’d go back to my room. I was sure I’d be alone. As usual.
My breath shakes. Fuck.
Morgan’s hand finds my cheek. “Babe, what’s the matter? Did we go too far? I never should have—”
“No. No, this was perfect, I just…” I press her hand against my chest, take a deep breath. “Usually I crash after… and it’s the worst, being… alone, then. But I’m not, and… I’m sorry. It’s just… nice.”
“Well, your heat is nowhere near over yet,” Morgan says, kissing my ear. She buries her nose in my hair, breathes deep. “I can smell it. But for now… it’s time to sleep.”
Wrapped in Morgan’s arms, I find it easier than ever to obey.
Chapter 38
MORGAN
Jamie’s a deep sleeper. It gives me a chance to take care of a few things—like ordering room service—before I slip back into bed and wrap around him again.
I can finally admit how badly I wanted to do this back in that stupid honeymoon room. Jamie has no right to smell this good.
He finally stirs, and I brush a strand of hair back from his face.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” I murmur in his ear, planting a kiss on the top of his head before turning to stand.
“Where are you going?” he asks, and the worry that edges his voice slices deep.
My tone is soft as I say, “Breakfast,” and pull him to his feet with another quick kiss. I give him a fresh t-shirt from my bag—fuck, I love how they hang off of him—and step out into the suite.
The hotel staff left the ceramic dishes on the kitchenette island, exactly as I instructed. I lift the lid of the closest one, releasing the savory aroma of bacon.
Jamie peeks out of my room, looking even better in just my shirt than he does naked, and pads over to me. I uncover eggs and fresh, butter-smeared bagels, and we dig in.
“This is the best bacon I’ve ever had,” he murmurs.
“Free range and applewood smoked,” I reply.
I do a decent job of keeping my hands to myself as I finish two sandwiches in the time it takes Jamie to get through half a cream cheese bagel, but then I can’t help but step behind him and trace my fingers around the edge of his collar.
He shivers.
