Infamous (8 page)

She set the plates on the counter before she dropped them. The casual clothes were a dirty trick. She had been prepared to greet him in his usual business suit--but somehow the bare feet and damp hair seemed far too intimate. Which was silly, wasn’t it? Because the situation wasn’t nearly as intimate as it was going to get later tonight.

Morgan crossed the room to drop a kiss on Kinsey’s forehead.

“Miss me, pumpkin? Or have you been too busy spending all my money?”

His dark eyes met Jessica’s over Kinsey’s head and he gave her a slow smile. It was not a businessman’s smile. It was a lover’s smile. It reminded her of all the things they had been to each other and done to each other in this house. Despite the heat glittering in his eyes, it reminded her that in this house Morgan ruled with his cool and logical mind and he would not be swayed by her passion.

Well, she had come of her own free will.

She lifted her chin a little and gave him a smile of her own.

“Wine or soda?”

It was the start of an evening that was terrible in its normalcy. It could have been the happy family scene in any Hollywood movie — pizza and sodas consumed at the island in the kitchen, sharing the cleaning up, then popcorn and a pay-per-view movie on T.V. in the family room. All evening, as they played their happy parts, Morgan’s eyes followed Jessica. All evening she smiled and smiled — the suburban wife and mother, home with her family. All evening she knew with awful certainty what a fraud she was — the jarring note in this otherwise perfect family setting. The words from the
Sesame Street
song echoed in her head, “One of these things is not like the others; one of these things just doesn’t belong.”

To put the final, humiliating touch on the evening, she was hyper-aware of every move Morgan made. The three of them sat on the long sofa in the den. Kinsey was in the middle, but it was Morgan who was crowding her space. He lounged against the far armrest, his bare feet propped up on the coffee table during the movie.

She couldn’t take her eyes off his feet. Good grief, when had she ever found a man’s feet sexy before? Maybe it was because she wouldn’t let herself look directly at him, and his feet were the only part of him solidly in her peripheral vision. If she let her gaze wander just a little farther up, she could see the outline of his strong legs under the jeans, and then her imagination would take her even further, to where the denim clung lovingly to his hard thighs and the slight bulge at the very top of one of them.

She didn’t want to watch the movie. She wanted to watch Morgan, to drink him in and store him up. She very much wanted to keep this casual and relaxed Morgan that she had thought never to see again.

She still wasn’t sure why he had let her come back. Sooner or later, maybe even tonight, he was going to realize she could never fit in here. The scene was all perfect except for the cookie-cutter wife. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many strands of pearls she bought, she was never going to fit into that June Cleaver role. When Morgan came to his senses, she was going to wind up ruthlessly evicted again. She would be sent back to Hollywood with all the other glossy, plastic people who played happy families on the screen and made train wrecks of their personal lives.

By the time Kinsey had retreated to her room, Jessica’s nerves were screaming. Morgan was still on the far end of the sofa. He had switched the T.V. to the news channel and appeared engrossed in the day’s events. The sofa seemed to have shrunk to half its actual size. Without Kinsey, the only thing separating her from Morgan was a few feet of empty air. Her eyes started their stealthy trip from his feet to his ankles again. The sound of the newscaster’s voice disappeared beneath the drum of her own heart.

She jumped to her feet and gathered up her glass and the empty popcorn bowl. Keeping her eyes averted, she carried them both into the kitchen. Standing at the sink, she took a deep steadying breath. She could do this, she could. This is where she wanted to be and damned if she would run. She might not be June Cleaver, but she was here. It was more than could be said of her own mother. It would have to be enough until she figured out the rest.

When she turned around, Morgan was standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard his bare feet on the tile floor.

“Going to bed so early?” He padded the rest of the way into the room and set his glass in the sink next to hers.

She leaned a hip against the counter and tried to look nonchalant.

“Not so much nightlife out here; lots of things to do at ungodly hours of the morning. Is it really necessary for the swim team to meet at 8
A.M.
?”

“They use the outside pool most days; I think it’s to beat the heat.”

“They’re in the
pool
. It’s where you go when it gets hot.”

“Huh, you’re right.” He shrugged. “No idea, then.”

They were standing so close, but they might as well be on different continents. They had talked and laughed all evening. They hadn’t said one significant thing. They were talking now, and all she could think was how much she wanted to reach out and touch him.

She turned toward the door.

“I’m off, then. Are you going to finish the news?”

“Just the next segment — I’ll be right behind you.”

She fled into the bedroom. In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, brushed her hair, then dithered over what to wear.

It was stupid.

She was nervous.

She was nervous like an inexperienced girl, like it was their first time together.

She clenched her hands into fists until she could feel the nails biting into her palms. She was Jessica Sinclair, and this was not her first date. She refused to be intimidated by sharing a bed with her husband.

When Morgan came into the bedroom fifteen minutes later, only the lamp on her nightstand was on. She was sitting up against the pillows with a magazine across her lap. She had opted for conservative — a short silk babydoll. She knew the deep purple suited her and it was sexy without being obvious. When the door opened she smiled and leaned over to fold back the sheets on Morgan’s side of the bed.

Morgan was already pulling off his shirt as he crossed the room. He didn’t speak as he stood by the bed and unfastened his jeans. In the glow of the lamp, his skin gleamed. She caught her breath. Of all the sexy men she knew, only Morgan could make her feel like this just by looking at him.

He looked so calm. Did the sight of her in his bed do nothing for him? Then he shucked down the jeans. When he straightened, she was looking directly at the part of him that said, yes indeed, she was having an effect.

She let her gaze wander up his body until her eyes met his. He was still silent, in control, but there was a faint flush along his cheekbones as he slid between the sheets. He didn’t hesitate. One strong arm reached out and pulled her against him so that she was lying under him. She lifted her arms around his neck and looked up. She wanted to see his eyes, to puzzle out what he was thinking. Instead his mouth came down on hers and coherent thought ceased.

His kisses were wine and candy. She was drunk and insatiable for him — an addict craving her addiction. She moaned in denial when his mouth moved away from hers and along her jaw. His teeth found the lobe of her ear and she moaned again. She fastened her mouth over his skin, holding him firmly with her teeth so her tongue could taste his salty flesh. She pressed her face into his shoulder and inhaled, filling up her senses with Morgan.

His hands moved down her body, lifting her hips and shoving a pillow under them. Then he was sliding into her, hard and sure, just where she wanted him. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and clung to him. She wanted him close, his heart beating next to hers. She wanted in this one small way to feel like she belonged to him, belonged
with
him.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he pulled her tighter against his body. His mouth was on hers again and they were joined in every way possible, as close as two people could ever be. She was losing herself, sinking right into his skin so that there was no more Jessica, only Morgan. He surrounded her with his scent and his taste and overwhelmed her with the pleasure of his body in hers. He was cradled close between her thighs. At the end of every slow thrust he rocked even closer, grinding himself against her until the sensation was almost pain. When she thought she couldn’t stand it any more, he held her closer still, until she gripped herself around him in a shattering orgasm.

It was only when it was over that she realized he had not shared the experience with her.

She shook her head groggily as he withdrew and flipped her over. His hands were gentle, but firm as he draped her over the pillow. The sweat drying on her exposed skin made her shiver until he covered her with his warm body. He pushed aside her hair and kissed the back of her neck tenderly. She could feel him, still hard and heavy against her back, nestled between her cheeks.

He stroked her hair, nuzzled her neck, held her close. Then he began a slow journey down her spine, kissing and licking. His warm hands traveled with him, splayed around her body next to his head. By the time they reached her hips, she wasn’t cold any more.

She pressed herself against the mound of the pillow as his hands grasped her thighs and pushed them apart. When she felt his warm breath between her legs, she pushed back against him in blatant invitation. The delicate touch of his tongue on her skin was a torment.

She heard herself panting. Morgan’s hands went to her hips again and he pulled her up onto her knees. She cried out and almost came again at his first thrust into her. One arm locked around her waist and he bent himself over her. His breath was ragged against her ear, but he kept a tormentingly steady pace. She was ready to sob and plead when he finally increased the speed to drive her to another shattering climax.

It wasn’t until the final spasms were receding that she felt him stiffen with his own release. Immediately after, he rolled onto his side, arms still around her, and pulled the sheets over both of them.

“God, Jessie, I’ve missed you.” He yawned.

A minute later the steady sound of his breathing told her he was asleep.

She lay in the circle of his arms and stared at the glowing numbers of the alarm clock next to the bed. She was back with Morgan, they had just had amazing sex, he had told her he had missed her. Why wasn’t she happy?

She hadn’t wanted amazing sex. She had wanted to make love. It had felt like making love in the beginning, the two of them wrapped so close together. It had felt like making love right up to the point when she realized that he hadn’t come. He had held himself back from experiencing that earthshaking reunion with her. After that, it had just been sex.

It was Morgan proving the point that he was in control.

What was he afraid of? He held all the cards in this relationship. It must be obvious she would do anything he wanted if she could stay in his life.

It wasn’t fair. She needed this one area where they could meet as equals.

Next to her, Morgan shifted in his sleep. His arms tightened around her and he spooned his hips closer against her. He was hard again. She closed her eyes and relaxed against his chest while she plotted. She was going to fight him on this. It was one area where she felt uniquely qualified to do battle. No way was she going to let him keep her at arms length in bed. She needed to start breaking down some of the barriers between them and this was the place to do it.

She fell asleep to the beat of his heart under her ear.

The next morning Jessica woke up to the insistent sound of the alarm. Eyes still closed, she was sliding across the bed to hit the snooze when the alarm magically ceased on its own. Interesting. She cracked one eye open to find Morgan standing by the bed. He was gloriously naked and still damp from the shower. He was also half erect.

Mmmm. She rolled over and opened the other eye for a better look. Morgan finished towel-drying his hair and bent over to give her a brief kiss on the mouth. She put her arms around his neck to pull him in for something more satisfying, but he disentangled himself at once.

“I’ll take Kinsey to swim practice this morning on the way to the office. You can sleep in a little and pick her up when she’s done.”

“You’re going in to the office?” She blinked at him sleepily. “You just got home from a three-day business trip.”

“Yes, and I’ve been away from the office for three days unexpectedly. I have a lot to catch up on.”

“Oh.” She yawned. “I thought you might stay home your first day back.”

He frowned down at her. “I have people counting on me. I can’t neglect my business to stay home and entertain you.”

Well, that put her in her place.

“Kinsey’s missed you.”

“Kinsey knows I work.”

He was already striding away from her, into the huge walk-in closet that held an impressive array of expensive suits. Bored and missing him, she had poked her way through them two days ago. They were almost a uniform — dark colors, conservative cuts, all hanging in military precision next to an equally bland selection of neutral color shirts and silk designer ties. She wondered if he could even tell one from the other.

When he came out, he was already dressed and knotting his tie.

“You should wear the yellow Bulgari with that,” she said.

“What?”

“Your tie. You should wear the Bulgari yellow jacquard silk.”

He gave her a blank look.

She sighed. “The yellow tie with the little brown and white dots.”

“For heaven’s sake. It’s just a tie, what difference does it make?”

“If it doesn’t make any difference, why not humor me?” she shot back.

“I’m going to be late,” he grumbled. But she was pleased when he went back in the closet and returned with the Bulgari.

“Much better.” She snuggled back into the covers and eyed him approvingly.

He paused at the door. For a moment, she thought he was going to come back into the room, but he only said, “Don’t sleep too long. Practice will be over in two hours.” Then he was out the door without another glance.