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Of course. His parents are gone more than they’re home, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I believe it’s because he doesn’t know any different. The only thing that’s changed over the years is they don’t have a nanny sitting with him while they’re gone.
I follow him into the kitchen, grab some aspirin out of the cabinet, and toss him the bottle. “Take this and drink some water before you go to bed.”
“And don’t drink the water too fast.” Morgan’s voice startles the both of us as we look to her, standing in the doorway as she strolls into the kitchen, stopping beside me. “Seriously, it’ll come back up even faster.”
“Okay.” Neil stares at her for a few seconds before looking to me.
I’m just as confused as he is. “I’ll pick you up in the morning for school.” Which isn’t a long time from now, but I know he won’t miss the first day. It’s against everything ingrained in him.
“Thanks, man.” He grabs a bottle of water and heads upstairs. If Morgan wasn’t here, I’d probably crash in the guestroom, as I often do when he’s here alone. But I have to get her home and out of my sight. Even if she won’t be out of my mind for a good long while.
“Let’s go.”
Once I pull back onto the road, I dare to take a peek and find her with her head leaning over on the door, her face slightly outside the window. The humid air blows against her face, causing her blonde hair to swirl around. There’re two things that surprise me. One, she isn’t complaining about her perfect hair being a mess. Two, my fingers are itching to slide into the blonde strands and drag her mouth to mine. Because the relaxed, serene look on her face reminds me of someone I used to know—someone Iwantedto be around. But Morgan was never that girl. She was just good at putting on a show.
It’s minutes later when I park for the second time in less than twenty-four hours in front of the King mansion. But this time Morgan doesn’t bail immediately. Instead, she sits in the same position, only now her eyes are open as she surveys her house. “I’m tired too,” is the only thing she mutters. And something about her defeated tone doesn’t allow me to say anything back as she looks over to me. My truck suddenly feels much smaller. Reaching for the door handle, I step out and walk around to the passenger side, pulling the door open and standing back as I motion for her to get out, but she doesn’t move.
“Come on. Go inside and get some sleep.” Because I sure as fuck need some sleep. I step closer, offering to help her out of the truck as she turns to the side. But instead of grabbing my hand, her fingers grip my shirt and pull me to her, her knees going on either side of me as her mouth covers mine, kissing me for a few seconds until I shift back to look at her. “You should go inside. It’s late and you’re drunk.”
And I’m fuckin’ falling under her toxic spell as she leans forward, her lips feathering over mine as she says, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Her legs hook on my hips, wrapping tightly around me. Her mouth captures mine, her taste consuming all my rational thoughts. As her kiss becomes more desperate, the need follows and intensifies within me. Before I think twice, my hand moves up her back, every finger entangling in her hair as I grip tightly. Tugging her head back, her exposed neck is the first place I want to taste. So, I do. And the soft moan she lets out when she rocks her hips against me does nothing but fuel my desire. My mouth returns to hers, but it’s all wrong—because it feels so right. Finally breaking away, I ease back, though my hand remains tangled in her hair. Her blazing fuck-me eyes penetrate my soul as I say, “You need to go inside.”
“Why’s that?” Her lips form a sexy smile that grows when my eyes fixate on her mouth.
Releasing her hair, I drop my hands to her legs and grip her thighs, fighting the urge to slide my palms up her soft skin and under her dress. All while my brain is telling me to get rid of her grip on me. But I make no attempt to remove her hold from around me. “Because neither of us is thinking clearly.”
“Yet, I’m the only intoxicated one.” She closes the little space between us, kissing me for a minute before unhooking her legs from my sides. Getting out of my truck, she glances over her shoulder at me as she walks away, her teasing tone still in place. “Such a gentlemen, Cade. But I have a feeling that morally superior act will fall to the wayside when you finally give in to your desires.”
And as if she didn’t just set my world spinning off its axis once again, Morgan strolls into her house, shuts the heavy red door behind her, and leaves me standing here like the big idiot I am. Because she knows—even when I hate her, I want her. I always have. And always will. But there’s one thing that’s different now. I’m aware that the blonde beauty will be my unraveling if I allow. And fuck, I already know I will. Because unraveling her from my soul is the only way I’ll ever get past her. I hope.
8
MORGAN
Finally. My last first day at Saint Juliet. I’ve dreamed of this for years; since the moment I stepped foot into the building my freshman year after that dreadful summer. Yeah. It should’ve been a thrill to attend a school where my dad is worshiped like a god. The very school he and my mother met and the one my grandparents attended. But that great family legacy is nothing but bullshit. Just like my parents’ so-called fairy-tale romance. And I’m reminded why it makes my stomach turn when I hear a knock on my door and Mom steps inside. Uncertainty flowing off her in waves.
“Morgan, we need to talk.”
“I have to get ready for school.” Standing from my vanity, I step into my walk-in closet and pull on the assigned Saint Juliet uniform—a white button-down with a hunter-green plaid skirt and matching stiff blazer are coordinated with a hunter-green tie boasting gold stitching that matches the emblem over the left breast pocket of the uniform jacket. It’s too fucking hot and humid for this shit. Which is why I strip off the jacket and toss it on my bed. Fuck it. What are they gonna do? Expel me? I can’t be that lucky. And I’m not lucky enough for Mom to have left my room. She’s standing near the door, her arms folded over her chest, her hand clinging to her bicep. It’s her telltale stance when she’s uneasy. She uses it around my dad often when he loses his temper and trashes whatever is within reach. He doesn’t lose his cool often, but when he does, he explodes full force. Which is what I’m assuming she’s worried about. Dad finding out and flipping his fucking lid.
“Morgan.”
“What, Mother?”
“I need you to talk to me. Say what you need to say, what’s on your mind, and we’ll figure this out.”
Grabbing my book bag, I walk towards the door and stop a foot away from her. “What exactly do we need to figure out? Seems like you and Thatcher have everything under control.”
“I didn’t mean for you to find out like that.” Her gaze drops to the floor as she says, “Howdidyou find out? You didn’t see anything, did you?”
“Ew, Mom. No. I didn’t see Thatcher screwing you, if that’s your main concern. But for the record, I’ve known for a while.” Just hadn’t called her out on it before yesterday.
“Did you tell your father? Are you going to?” she asks as I shake my head no. As much as I wanted to inform him at first, I didn’t have the heart to tell Dad his wife was screwing my principal. She lets out a breath as she says, “Thank you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? ‘Thank you’ is the first thing that springs to mind?”“I don’t want to upset your father—”
I hold my hand up, signaling for her to stop spewing bullshit. When I take a step closer to her, all I see is a pathetic coward. “Then you shouldn’t have fucked another man.”
