The Wright Secret Page 7

  “Thai. Dinner. Tonight,” he ground out.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped out with a light laugh. “It’s not a date. It’s David. I’m his boss. He’s my CFO.”

  “As if that has ever stopped anyone.”

  “It’s not like that,” I reassured him. Then, I sighed. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. Why do you even care who I date?”

  “Come here,” he said, his voice low, soft, and seductive.

  It was a tone I’d definitely never heard from him before.

  “Why?” I asked, guarded.

  He reached out and pulled me closer to him. I stumbled forward on my high heels and nearly fell into his arms. His hands ran down my suit jacket, across my open palms, and then back up. I shivered.

  What was happening? Oh my God, was this happening? Was this even real?

  “I made a mistake,” he told me.

  “You did?”

  He leaned forward and ran his jaw across my cheek. His five o’clock shadow scratched me. I had to close my eyes to keep from groaning. His lips moved to my ear, and he grazed the sensitive shell. My whole body came alive.

  “Yes. Last week, you thought I rejected you.”

  “You did,” I whispered. The hurt unmistakable in my voice.

  “I thought I was saving you from yourself. But that wasn’t the case, was it?” he asked, his eyes moving back to mine. Our mouths only inches apart.

  All I could do was shake my head. I’d absolutely wanted him. In every way.

  “You wanted to kiss me then, right?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “And you want to kiss me now.”

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Good. I can work with that.”

  I laughed a breathy little thing that made his eyes crinkle in satisfaction. “I thought that we couldn’t do this and that I deserved someone else and all that.”

  “Still true.” His thumb dragged across my bottom lip.

  “What’s changed then?”

  “I thought you were making a drunken mistake. And then I spent a week without you. A week where you were my every thought. Where I had to watch your indifference. Where I had to watch you with some other guy. And I decided…I didn’t like that, and I didn’t want that. We still probably shouldn’t do this…but I want to.”

  A chill ran through me at his words. Goose bumps erupted on my bare arms. I was putty in his hands. I’d thought that last week was my last chance. That Patrick would never be interested in me. Who knew that a week apart was all he needed to see the light?

  “Are you going to kiss me then?” I asked.

  He leaned forward until our lips were almost touching. I held my breath and waited. I was anxious with anticipation and desperate for that moment I’d been waiting for, for so long.

  I felt the lightest touch of his lips on mine before he said, “No.”

  “Oh my God, you’re killing me.” I pushed him away from me.

  “You know what you’re going to do?”

  “Tell you to shove it?” I joked.

  He grinned. “You’re going to cancel your dinner plans with David.”

  “Patrick.”

  “And then you’re going to come over to my house, and I’m going to cook you dinner.”

  “You are?”

  He nodded. “You probably haven’t eaten all day anyway.”

  “I’ve eaten! And more than kale and Skittles.”

  “Mor?”

  I laughed. “All right, all right. Dinner it is. Let me tell David.”

  I walked back to my office, silently pleading with myself not to freak out. I didn’t know what was going on with me and Patrick, but I needed some serious chill if I was going to find out.

  “Everything all right?” David asked.

  “Yeah, it’s fine, but I’m going to need a rain check on dinner.”

  David raised his eyebrows. I could see him piecing together everything that had happened.

  “I see. Okay.”

  “Sorry that we never got to what you wanted to talk to me about. Did you want to talk now?”

  He shook his head. “Rain check. Go have fun. You’ve earned it.”

  “All right. Are you sure? I feel bad about canceling.”

  “It’s all right. Maybe I’ll see if Sutton wants to get dinner.”

  “Sutton?” I asked curiously.

  “Yeah. We’ve been hanging out some…when I can coax her out of the house.”

  “I didn’t realize that.”

  “I remember that day as clearly as anyone else. I didn’t even know her then, but now that I do,” he said with a dreamy look in his eye, one I’d seen many a guy have about Sutton, “I want to make this time as easy as possible for her.”

  “That’s really nice of you, David. I’m sure she and Jason appreciate it.”

  He frowned. “I don’t need appreciation. She has enough to worry about, and that little boy needs all the love he can get.”

  “I know. I worry about her.”

  “Well, hey, don’t worry about her tonight. Go have fun with Patrick,” he said with a wink.

  I blushed. “Mind not mentioning this to my brothers?”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Thanks. I’m not ready to have three overbearing alpha men looking over my shoulder before I’m ready. Trust me.”

  “I could see that. Have a good time.”

  “Thanks. Night!”

  I waved good-bye and then headed downstairs. Patrick was waiting for me at my car.

  “I thought I was meeting you at your place,” I told him.

  “I decided to kidnap you.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “You’re consenting to it.”

  “Am I?”

  “Just get in the car, Morgan,” he said with a laugh.

  His eyes were bright, and I actually swooned at the sight. How did he do this to me? How had he always done this to me?

  “Fine. But under protest.”

  “Liar,” he muttered as he hopped into the driver’s side.

  He was right. I didn’t protest a single thing about this. Not a single thing.

  We made it across town in record time, and Patrick jogged around the truck to help me out. I couldn’t believe that I was back here. I’d basically thought that last week was the end of this. Dreams dashed and all.

  As I crossed the threshold into his house, everything felt totally different. Last time, I’d been excited to finally make my move. That I could finally make this happen.

  Now, I was out of my element. I hadn’t seriously dated since college. And, even then, three guys in four years hadn’t been much to write home about. Actually, none of them had met my brothers. So, I literally hadn’t written home about them.

  “What are you thinking for dinner?” he asked as he peeled his suit jacket off.

  “I…have no idea. What can you make?”

  He laughed. “Everything. Why don’t I just put something together? You don’t like mushrooms or olives, right?”

  I startled and froze in the middle of the kitchen. “Yeah. How do you know that?”

  He seemed to think for a minute. “I don’t know. I pay attention.”

  My heart melted. I’d never realized that Patrick had paid that much attention to me. How had I thought that I could move on from him?

  “You can change into my clothes again if you want,” he added with a grin.

  “Are you trying to get me out of my clothes?” I teased.

  “Not yet.”

  I gulped. “Awfully confident, aren’t you?”

  “Weren’t you throwing yourself at me the last time you were here? Something about get in bed right now?”

  I smacked his arm as my face flamed red. “God, try to embarrass a girl, why don’t you? Is this how you treat all your dates?”

  “Yeah, no,” he said, setting a pot on the stove and adding water and a hefty dose of salt. “I’ve never cooked for a date before
.”

  “Ever?” I gasped in disbelief.

  He shot me another grin. “Ever.”

  “Is this a date? I mean, did I just make an ass of myself?”

  “Morgan, relax.”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me over to him. I moved into his arms and tried to do what he’d said. He pressed my back against his chest, skimming his hands over my hips. My breathing hitched at the movement. So intimate. Then, his lips brushed against my shoulder, and my whole body shuddered. I melted back into him.

  “That’s better,” he said with a breathy laugh. “You were so tense.”

  “Well, I have a tendency to overthink things.”

  “You?” he gasped in mock horror.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  He laughed. “Stop overthinking. Yes, of course, this is a date.”

  The rest of the tension left my body at that comment.

  “But maybe you should change out of that dress.” His hands slipped over the form-fitting plum dress I’d put on this morning.

  “What’s wrong with my dress?”

  “It’s very distracting.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked, spinning in place to face him.

  “Yeah. I’m trying to cook for you here, and all I want to do is this.”

  He grabbed me by the backs of my thighs, hoisting my legs up and around his waist. I gasped and slid my arms around his neck to steady myself. My body was pressed tightly against him, exposing ample thighs for his viewing pleasure. I stared into his baby blues and saw the desire mirroring mine. It was intoxicating.

  Feeling the part of the seductress, I flicked my tongue out across my bottom lip. Then, I dragged my bottom lip into my mouth. His eyes followed every movement. His body was hard and strong beneath mine as his hands slipped up my thighs to my ass and held me firmly in place.

  All I wanted in that moment was him. All of him.

  This was our choice.

  This was our desire.

  This was everything.

  Patrick eased me back onto the counter to free up his hands. I groaned as he grazed my breasts on his ascent. He pushed harder against me, as if his own body couldn’t hold back, even as his hands worked their way up to my face. He cupped my cheek with one hand and dragged the other to the back of my head before pulling me toward him.

  All of this anticipation, all the need, and all the innumerable times I’d imagined this moment happening…it was nothing compared to reality. To the way our bodies twined together and our heat mingled. To my racing heartbeat and his steady confidence. To the desire that snaked through my core and enveloped us both.

  His lips touched mine, tentative at first. Tender as he explored me. His tongue darted out and ran across my lips until I opened for him. We met in the middle—tasting, touching, learning. He nibbled gently on my bottom lip, and I was a goner. I moaned at the caress, and the dam broke. He tugged me tighter against him and kissed me, like it was the last thing he would ever do. And, when I succumbed, drowning in him, I knew then that the wait had been worth it.

  Eleven

  Patrick

  Fuck, Morgan feels good.

  Her lips were soft and supple. The way she worked her tongue…fuck. I couldn’t even begin to describe it. How could I have known her so long and never done this? Not even thought about it?

  Of course, I knew why. Same reason I probably shouldn’t have my tongue down her throat right now. But, shit, I’d tried to be a gentleman. I’d thought I was making the right decision before. And I knew there would be hell to pay for this later. My past had made sure of that. Didn’t mean I had any intention of stopping this. Not a chance.

  Not with her tight little body pressed against me and her hands shaking but clinging to my shirt and her toned legs wrapped around me in the most compromising of positions. I could think of something else I’d like to be doing between her legs. At least a couple of other things.

  But Morgan wasn’t any girl. As much as I wanted to dive right between her legs and make her come for days, I knew to take it slow. I didn’t want to overwhelm her. In some ways, she still felt so innocent in my hands. As if all of this was so new for her.

  When she was with me, she wasn’t the proud, sarcastic, cynical workaholic that I’d known my whole life. She was this sensual, eager, beautiful woman. Maybe even a little, dare I say it, scared. I’d never seen Morgan scared a day in her life. All I wanted to do was prove to her that she had no reason to fear any of this. And pray that I could keep my word.

  Morgan gently pushed me back. “Wait…”

  “Are you serious?”

  She grinned and hauled herself off the counter top. “Serious. Not that I don’t want to keep kissing you.”

  “Yeah, because…I kind of thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “Yeah. I mean, I do. I just…” She sighed and glanced away. “Is that what you want?”

  “Morgan, are you overthinking this again?”

  “Yes,” she said with a shy laugh. “I don’t want a repeat of last weekend, and I don’t want to be jerked around.”

  “I’ll admit, I’ve been acting erratic.”

  I had never been the guy to talk about my feelings or discuss this sort of thing with…well, anyone. Let alone right after the first time I kissed someone. I wasn’t much of a talker in general unless it was joking around. But I could see that Morgan was legitimately afraid to take another step forward.

  “A little?” she asked.

  “Okay, a lot, but I talked to Steph.”

  “Oh God,” Morgan said, going pale. “What did she say?”

  “What do you think she said?” My curiosity was piqued.

  “No idea.”

  There was definitely something she wasn’t telling me.

  “She laughed when I told her that I saved you from making a drunken mistake and that you weren’t interested in me because you were already dating. She told me I needed to fix this. I just couldn’t figure that you actually liked me.”

  “I do,” she whispered.

  I put my hand under her chin and made her look up at me again. “I think we’re both on uneven ground here. This is new to me. Being here with you like this kind of terrifies me.”

  “Why? It’s just me.”

  “I know that, but you have three older brothers who are my closest friends. And I don’t want them to beat the shit out of me.”

  “They’re not going to. When we’re ready, we’ll tell them like adults. Because we’re fucking adults.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure that’ll go over great,” I said with a shake of my head.

  “I mean, I think they might be macho idiots, like they always were when I was dating, but it’s you. They know you.”

  I blew out a heavy breath. “Didn’t stop me.”

  She paused and gave me a weighted, curious look. “What does that mean?”

  “Our senior year of college, Steph and Austin hooked up.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She never told me!”

  “Well, I found out and blew up. It was the only argument Austin and I ever had that I thought would end our friendship. She was only eighteen at the time and still in high school. I accused him of taking advantage of her. So, when you and I were together, I kept thinking about what had happened with Steph and what Austin’s reaction would be.”

  “Wow,” she muttered.

  “I know.”

  “Well, I don’t think that’s going to happen, but I understand why you would be worried. It’s not like we have to tell anyone what’s going on yet. It’s our first date, and I don’t particularly want their nosy noses up in our business anyway. Why don’t we just go back to dinner and making out?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d been holding that in for a long time. It was probably the main reason I’d never even looked at Morgan. After that shit with Steph, it had taken a long time for me and Austin to get back on solid footing. I never wanted to go back to that. But, i
f there was something here with Morgan, I didn’t want to stand on the sidelines, wondering when I was going to get into the game.

  “Maybe I should get started on the spaghetti sauce then,” I said.

  She stood on her tiptoes and brought her lips to mine once more. I pressed her into my body, enjoying the feel of every inch of her against me. Already, my mind was drifting into the gutter. I opened her mouth and teased my tongue against hers. I was ready to say, Fuck it, when Morgan’s stomach grumbled.

  I broke away. “I thought you said you’d eaten.”

  “Um…well, I did. This morning. At, like, eight o’clock?”

  I shook my head. “Get out of my kitchen, so I can feed you.”

  “Fine.”

  She scrunched up her nose at me as she walked out of the kitchen. I swatted at her ass with a wooden spoon, and she laughed before scurrying away. When she was gone, I finally got to work.

  Cooking was an art form. Probably the only one I’d ever excelled at. Once I got into it, it was my Zen. Everything else would drift away, and it was just the ingredients and my masterpiece.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been working when Morgan peeked her head into the kitchen again.

  “Something smells amazing in here.”

  “Here. Try.”

  I took the wooden spoon out of the sauce and offered it to her. She leaned into me and licked some of the sauce off the spoon. My eyes were glued to the way her body reacted to my cooking. She groaned and closed her eyes, and her face turned into pure ecstasy.

  “That is incredible,” she moaned. “How are you so good at this?”

  “Lots of practice and patience.”

  “I wish I could cook,” she said. She leaned her hip into the counter as I poured our pasta into bowls. She glanced down at the ground and frowned. “Jensen says Mom was a good cook, too.”

  “Your mom was an extraordinary woman.”

  “It seems unfair that you remember her more than I do.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She waved me off. “Nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault she died of cancer when I was five and never taught me to cook.”

  “I could teach you,” I offered. “But I think it’s probably more enjoyable if I keep doing what I’m good at and you do what you’re good at.”

  “So, you think I’d suck?”