Morrison (Caldwell Brothers #2) (16 page)

Jagger’s words about treasuring the good have been playing over and over again in my head all night. As a result, when Morrison stands and comes over to me, I don’t bother with a hello; I just wrap my arms around his neck to pull him to me for a kiss.

“You give me good, Morrison Caldwell. You give
me good all the damn time.”

His hands run up and down my sides as he watches me, not understanding where I’m at in my head.

“Something happen tonight, little momma?”

“Not particularly. Something happened the night you parked your car behind mine. Morrison Caldwell, you brought me to life. You have shown me what living really is. You have made me feel. You have held me at my worst and celebrated
with me at my best. I could go on and on about everything you are and everything you mean to me. Most of all, though, you have made me feel.”

“It feels good.” He smiles, and I beam up at him.

I bite my bottom lip. “It feels good.”

“Gotta say, little momma, as good as it feels, it’s late, and if I’m gonna make you feel good before you sleep, we should head to bed.”

“Morrison, I love you. I
need you to know. I. Love. You.”

Floored. I am floored and speechless.

I can’t believe how good it feels to have those words finally come out of that sexy mouth of hers.

Her mouth…I need it, now.

I crash into her mouth as I push her against the wall, tasting her and her words. Her hands are on my belt, then my button, and then my pants are down. She grips me tight and strokes me hard, fast. My hands are
instantly up the back of her shirt, trying to unsnap her bra.

“Front clasps,” she pants out against my mouth.

“Fuck,” I growl as I move my hands to the front and cup her tits—
my
tits.

She pulls away and sinks to her knees, immediately taking my cock in her mouth, licking, sucking, and fucking worshipping my dick. She moves up and down on me fast, her eyes closed as she takes me farther, faster,
licking, sucking.

“Son of a bitch,” I groan as her nails sink into my ass, and she pulls me closer, taking me in farther.

Then she swallows.

“Damn,” I growl. “Fuck, little momma. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

One hand wraps around me as she leans back, panting. She strokes me as she licks her lips and looks up at me, eyes full of an animalistic need and desire that I have not seen since the alley.

“You love my cock, don’t you, baby?” I say as she strokes me faster, her grip tightening.

“Yes,” she says, and then quickly wets her lips.

“It’s yours, baby, all fucking yours,” I hiss as her tongue circles my tip.

“Mine,” she says before taking me deep again and hollowing her checks.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck! All yours.”

She moves faster, pumps her fist harder, and I am right fucking there.

“Gotta stop.”

“Mine,” she says with my dick still in her mouth.

“Babe, you’re gonna get—” She swallows, making her throat tighten, and I lose restraint. “Fu…ck!”

When she has thoroughly sucked me dry, she stands up and looks into my eyes. Then she gets a silly little smirk, one I don’t think I have seen before, and she grabs my balls.

“Owned.”

“Fuck yes, owned.” I laugh and pull her against
me. “Fuck yes,” I say softer as I kiss her neck.

“I love you.”

“I feel it, Hailey. Felt it in here for a while now.” I touch my chest. “I was almost convinced it was all I needed, but damn if I wasn’t wrong. Because finally
hearing you say
those three words, little momma…” I stop and shake off the overwhelming emotions. “Those three words own me on a level that is unfathomable to me.”

“When
you said those words, I felt the same, like I am part of you, of this. It scared the hell out of me, Morrison. I didn’t know if I could give it to you and not take away from Marisa. The past few months proved otherwise. The way you love me, the way you love her, and the way you love your family has all proved it’s okay to say those words out loud. It didn’t take away from her. If anything, it’s added
to the love I feel for her—and for you.” Tears flow down her face. “I want to be good. I want to be good enough for you. I will never be able to say it to you enough. I love you. I love you. I love you. I—”

“We are one, little momma.” I pull her pants and underwear down, and she kicks them off. Then I take her mouth before taking her against the wall, hard. “One.”

“One,” she moans.

O
NE
M
ONTH
L
ATER

I walk into the bank with two checks—one from the insurance company for the Porsche and one for the sale of the Atlantic City pad. I see Townsman exit his office, and he reaches out his hand to shake mine.

“Glad you called. Come on in.” I follow him into his office. “Have a seat.”

“I won’t waste your time. I’m here to make an offer.” I put the check for the pad on his desk. “I had
a friend walk around the outside, and it needs some work to make it code. I have a mission statement, a building plan, and files to be tax-exempt. I have applied for the business license, reached out to local shelters, and visited them. I have a board of directors and volunteers who are ready to pitch in.”

“This is more than the asking price,” he says, looking at the check.

“That’s enough to
fix the roof and the elevator, paint, and do some flooring and kitchen updates that will be needed.”

“But—”

“The bank is paying taxes on the place. Five grand a year isn’t shit, but to heat that place this winter is gonna take a toll. I am offering eighty grand and a spot on the board if you want it.”

“That’s a hundred and twenty thousand less—”

I stand. “That’s my offer. Let me know if you
accept.”

“We can maybe offer a loan.”

“No loan. Let me know.”

I walk up to the bank teller and deposit the check for the pad and the Porsche. Then I pull out twenty grand. It doesn’t seem like enough, but she’ll freak the fuck out. She loves me, though. She fucking loves me and finally said so exactly one month ago today, and that changed everything.

It’s Wednesday night, and I am snuggled
into Marisa’s bed, which now has a canopy.

“Mommy is gonna be so mad.” She tries to keep a straight face but fails and falls into yet another giggling fit, and I can’t help laughing with her. When she has relaxed, she is looking at the bed in awe. She rolls over on her side. “You’re nice.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so, little chick.”

“I like you.” She rolls onto her back, and her smile gets
even bigger. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you a lot, too.”

She yawns, reminding me it’s forty minutes past her bedtime. It took a little more time to get this bed together than I expected. The directions should have come with a warning that, if children are helping, important hardware may come up missing. In my case, it was a washer, which became a ring around a little chick’s thumb.

“You know”—she
yawns again—“I said I didn’t need stories tonight, but the best daddy eva would still read me books.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh,” she says matter-of-factly, nodding.

She falls asleep at the end of the second book, face toward the pink canopy. I still read four, though. Call me competitive, call me dumb, call me someone who keeps a promise, call me Caldwell.

I laugh at my thoughts.

“Call me Caldwell”
used to be a way to give a chick a name without giving an actual name, a noncommittal response to make a moment seem more than just a fuck. It was a name moaned from the mouth of a stranger during a one-night stand. Shit, sometimes when I said “Call me Caldwell,” it was a blow-off.

That name means much more to me than it did only a few months ago. That name is Momma’s legacy, that name is family,
and that name is mine.

I walk out of Marisa’s bedroom and close the door behind me. I have a task to complete, and I have only two hours to do it.

I grab my phone and send a text to Jagger to let him know I’m ready. Then I open the door as Jagger and Hendrix carry in one of the three boxes.

“We’ve been waiting an hour to hear from you. You better hope this goes smoothly or—”

“It’ll be fine.
Just try not to use washers as rings and then let me look around for thirty minutes before you tell me you have it.”

“Ris Priss?”

“The kid loves dress-up.” I smile.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Hendrix asks as I push the new queen-sized air mattress into the corner.

“I’m sure popping the old one tipped her a little. Didn’t get my way, though. She just bought a new one, stubborn little momma.
So she left me with no choice. She’ll be pissed, but she’ll get over it. I have my balls back.”

They laugh, and then we get to work.

Once we’re done, I stand back and admire the four-poster bed. It’s not a king; I did listen to her about that. And I am damn sure gonna mention that when she is stewing. Of course, the other reason I decided the queen is good is I didn’t want distance to be an
option.

She walks in the door and glances around, looking beautiful in the candlelight.

I walk to her, take her purse off her arm, and set it on the table.

“Missed you tonight.” I kiss her and pull her into a tight hug.

“The light bill was paid,” she says once I loosen my hold on her, and she starts toward the light switch.

“They work.” I grab her hand and walk us to the couch, where I have
a bottle of wine and two glasses waiting. “Have a seat.”

“Wow, this is nice.” She sits down with her legs tucked under her.

I hand her a glass and then pour myself one before sitting down.

“It was busy tonight,” she says after she sets her glass down on the makeshift coffee table: a pallet with wheels attached and painted black. “I think I may have made enough to buy a mattress.” She smirks.

“Is that your way of telling me you wanna go right in there and get to it?”

She twists her hair between her fingers. “This is nice.”

I sit back and take another sip of my wine. “Nice?”

She nods, grabs her glass, and drinks it down. “It was a busy night.”

I suck my cheeks in, trying not to laugh at her obvious desire.

“Don’t laugh at me. You should like that I look forward to Wednesday nights.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that. Woke up this morning—hard, of course, because I was dreaming of you—rolled to my side while still half asleep, and seriously thought I broke my dick.”

She laughs out loud and covers her mouth so she doesn’t wake up little chick, and then I lean over and kiss her. When I have drunk her in enough, I lean back, but she follows me, kissing me as she climbs on my
lap and straddles me.

She takes the glass out of my hand and tosses back my wine. “You said you missed me when I came in. I think you should prove it.” Her hips circle as she pushes against me. “What’s this?” She smirks again and reaches between us.

“Hold up there, little momma.”

She grabs the package in my pocket. And by “package,” I’m not talking about my cock.

“What is this?” she asks again.

I take her hand and kiss it. “I would love nothing more than to be buried in you right now, but against my better judgment, I am gonna tell you a story first.”

“A story?”

“All about ass.”

“Is that right?” She gives me a confused smile.

“Before you, I would plan my day around the type of ass I wanted that night.” Her eyes narrow a bit, but I am determined. “I’d go to different casinos, knowing
there were different types of woman, all with different needs and desires. I even named the ass. Women who were rowdy and could game for a little PDA action at Rehab pool parties, well, I called it Ready Ass. At the Cosmopolitan, I would run into Dominant Ass, or Submissive Ass—could always tell which, and I can promise you I didn’t like the dominant ones. First-Class Ass could easily be spotted
at Caesars. Those chicks thought they were better than everyone else, and a lot of times, I needed to show them different.” She crosses her arms and glares into my eyes. “Okay, just hear me out. Aria is where you would find Settled Ass—older women who had been married and underappreciated for way too damn long. You know, the ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ type?”

She shakes her head, and
I realize immediately that this little plan of mine was a fucked-up one at best.

“I’ve had a lot of ass, baby. Never wanted to settle down, ’cause ass was ass in whatever variation. All pink in the middle, all—” She shifts and rolls her eyes. “My point is, until I met you in that parking lot, I never believed there was one person made for me. The minute I kissed you, it was different from any
other kiss. The minute I tasted you, I knew I was ruined. The second I was inside you, I knew without a doubt that I had found the perfect ass. Platinum, baby. You were platinum then and you still are.”

I pull the ring box out of my pocket. “You own me. You own my heart, my soul, my desire, my attention at all times. You consume me, day and night—hell, even in my sleep. You are the only person
I want beneath me or on top of me. We love each other, baby. That’ll never change, and I swear to you, I will never let you feel settled. I will cherish you for a lifetime. Hailey Poe, I have my balls back, so the only answer I’ll accept is yes.”

I take the box out of my pocket and open it, revealing the platinum ring with a cushion cut two-and-a-half-carat diamond.

Her eyes sparkle. Then she
chokes back a sob and covers her mouth before her eyes return to mine and she gasps, “Too much.”

“Last splurge, I promise. I am done wanting all the material things. When you say yes, the only thing I will ever want, even though I may not deserve it, is platinum. You.”

She swallows hard and nods her head. “Yes.” She wraps her arms around my neck and holds tight as she whispers yes again against
my skin. “We do deserve each other, Morrison. We deserve this. We deserve to be happy. You make me happy, so happy. I’m not settling; I am getting you. And that’s more than I ever thought was possible.”

“I need to put this on you, little momma. Make it official.” I slip it on her shaking finger. “Wow, the ring looks even more beautiful now.”

She holds it out and looks at it and smiles. Then
she leans in to give me a kiss.

“Mommy?” We hear a sleepy voice coming from the hallway, and Hailey sits up. “You crying?”

“I’m fine.” She wipes her eyes and laughs. “Come here.”

Marisa walks over to her, and Hailey picks her up and hugs her.

“I have to pee-pee.”

“Okay, little one, let’s go.”

Hailey looks at me and smiles as she gets up.

I blow out the candles and put the glasses in the
sink.

“What is that?” I hear Marisa ask her mother as they walk out, holding hands.

“Morrison asked me to marry him.”

“Is that why you crying? ’Cause if he makes you sad, you should—”

“No, not sad. Very, very happy.”

Marisa stops and looks at her. I am expecting her to laugh, to say something that sounds an awful lot like “Congratulations” but probably not quite.

“I know what I want for
Christmas now.”

“You do?” Hailey has been asking her, and Marisa’s response so far has been, “Nuffin’.”