Flirting With the Forbidden (12 page)

Noah released the pressure and heard a couple of deep, rattling and relieved gurgles from his captor.

Noah felt sanity flowing back into him and withdrew his arm. He flipped the sleazoid over and smacked his head into the floor.
Oops...

‘Open the door, Duchess. And please tell them that I am one of the good guys and not to shoot me.’

* * *

Noah opened the door to Morgan’s apartment and his hand on her back urged her into her home. She headed straight for her squishy couch and sank down onto the edge, staring at the multi-coloured Persian rug below her feet.

He was coming off the adrenalin high and was starting to feel every punch and kick he’d taken. He yanked his tie up and over his head and dropped it, very unusually for him, on the back of the couch. His lip was still bleeding and under the butterfly bandage the cut on his cheek was telling him—loudly—that it was there. His knuckles were bruised and bloody.

But Morgan was fine...mostly. Her neck was bruised from having that muscled arm applied to it, and there was a small nick on her neck from the knife. He kept looking at her to check that she hadn’t developed another injury the EMTs might have overlooked.

‘Sore?’ Noah demanded when she touched her fingers to her throat.

‘Mmm.’ Morgan looked up at Noah’s ravaged face and managed a smile. ‘I’m fine, I promise.’

Noah crouched on his heels in front of her and rested his forehead on her knee. ‘I thought I’d lost you, Morgan.’

Morgan lifted her hand to touch his cheek, letting her fingertips flutter just beneath the cut on his cheekbone. ‘You’re too good to lose anyone.’

‘I was going to kill him,’ Noah said. ‘I lost control...
again
.’

‘What do you mean?’ She touched the deep frown between his brows. ‘Noah? What’s wrong?’

‘Apart from the fact that you were nearly kidnapped and killed? That my heart stopped when I saw that knife to your neck?’

Morgan’s eyes widened as his voice became louder with every word.

‘That I nearly lost you and I can’t lose anyone—ever again?’

‘Okay, Noah, calm down.’

‘I nearly got you killed in there because I wasn’t concentrating!’

‘Stop shouting! I’m pretty sure that people can hear you in the lobby.’

‘You! Nearly! Died!’

Morgan shook her head. ‘Yet here I still sit—alive, but starting to think that you’re one crazy man. You were there. You saved me,’ Morgan said, her eyes on his mouth. ‘My real-life hero.’

‘Don’t call me that! It should never have happened,’ Noah stated, his voice full of disgust. ‘I walked you into an ambush...what was I thinking?’

‘Stop beating yourself up... Oh, wait—someone already did that today.’ Morgan’s eyes and twitching mouth invited him to find his sense of humour.

‘Ha-ha.’

Noah looked up into her beautiful eyes. His gaze travelled over her face and he winced at the small cut on her neck, the faint bruises on her throat. He’d already forgotten that his cheekbone was cut, that his bottom lip was split and puffy, that his body was battered and bruised.

She was okay. That was all that mattered. Life was too short and he knew that he could not go a minute more without making love to her. He needed her, craved her...emotions he found difficult to admit to. But he’d come so close to losing his life. And—far more scarily—her life.

Life, he decided, was too sweet to waste another minute denying himself the pleasure of making her his.

Noah’s eyes darkened with passion and he couldn’t resist any longer. When his lips met hers his tongue delved and danced and she responded, and he felt awed by the pent-up longing in her kiss. Unaware that his kisses were just as demanding, as urgent, he sucked in his breath when Morgan’s hands moved to the bottom of his shirt, tugging it out of his jeans. Desperate to feel his flesh on hers, he moaned his frustration and resented the brief separation from her body as he stepped away from her to pull his shirt over his head.

Morgan leaned forward and ran her lips across his chest, stopping to flick her tongue over his nipple, to rub her cheek on his chest hair. Noah flipped open her shirt buttons and pulled the fabric apart, revealing her lacy pink bra and luscious chest to his gaze. She was so feminine, he thought. From her sense of humour to her resilience, her long legs and bold eyes, the texture and smell of her skin, she embodied all the traits that he’d spent his adult life looking for.

He finally—
finally!—
had his hands on her, and his imagination had fallen far short of the reality of how life-affirming touching her was. This time there would be no stopping him—stopping them. He needed her, had to have her, to be in her, around her, sharing this experience with her.

Noah felt Morgan’s body soften, surrendering to the moment and to him. He bumbled through removing her clothes—suave he was
not
!—but eventually she lay back on the cushions, gloriously, stunningly naked except for the tiny scrap of flimsy lace that covered her crotch. He kept his eyes on her, planning which part of her luscious skin he’d suck on first—hard pink nipple, soft inner thigh?—as he quickly shed the rest of his clothing while Morgan watched him through heavy, half-closed eyes.

On a muttered curse, he reached for his discarded pants and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Scattering cards and cash, he found the condom he had taken to carrying around with him and ripped the top open with his teeth. He dropped the condom onto the table and he saw that Morgan was neither surprised nor shocked when he grabbed the flimsy material of her panties and snapped the thin bands that held the triangle in place. Her hand reached out to encircle his erection and he immediately rubbed himself against her most secret places, asking for her permission to enter. He wanted to take his time, to adore every inch of her body, but he’d waited for so long—weeks, years!

His fingers and his mouth followed where his erection had been, and under his touch Morgan surrendered, dissolved, just as he’d known she would. He knew the exact moment to pull back, when she could tolerate no more, so he lifted his head to adore her breasts with his mouth, tongue and lips.

Morgan patted the table, found the condom and stretched down to close her fingers around him. He relished the sound of her breathing, heavy in the quietness of the evening. The latex whispered over him, her fingers making the prosaic action the most erotic sexual play. Green eyes clashed with blue as she tugged him towards her, and he felt as if he’d come home when her softness wrapped around his solidity and enclosed him in her wet warmth. Noah slid one hand under her hip and the other cradled her head into his neck as he both encouraged her to ride with him and promised protection from the storm to follow. They were together.

Noah moved within her and Morgan followed. He demanded and Morgan responded. Deeper, longer, higher, faster. She met him stroke for stroke, matching his passion, glorying in her power. Then she shuddered, splintered. and through the swells of her climax Noah fractured with her.

It was heaven. It was home.

Emotionally, physically depleted, Noah pushed his face into Morgan’s neck, breathed, sighed, and for the first time in far too long relaxed completely.

She was safe and she was his. Finally.

TEN

Stellenbosch, Western
Cape. Home, Morgan thought as she flopped back onto the mattress of the canopied bed and groaned in delight. This was her favourite place in the entire world; the Bon Chance Wine Estate nestled into the mountains that embraced the family wine farm. This was where, as a child, she’d run wild with Riley and the children of the workers, all of them barefoot and dirty, their faces smeared with the juice of the mulberries they’d picked off the trees in the orchards, their pockets filled with the biscuits or mini-cakes Mariah, the cook, had tucked into their pockets.

On arrival, the kitchen had been the first place she’d headed to and there she’d been, her hair grey and her caramel face wrinkled, but her eyes shining with love.

After Mariah had met Noah and hugged James and Riley, and they’d all had a cup of her thick and strong stove-percolated coffee, she’d ushered them off to their rooms to freshen up—but not before tucking a large biscuit into Morgan’s hand.

Morgan sat up, sat cross-legged on the bed under the antique wooden canopy and reached for the biscuit she’d placed on the side table.

‘Are you going to share that?’ Noah asked from where he stood in her open doorway.

Morgan waved him in as she bit down. ‘No,’ she said as the taste of vanilla and warm butter exploded on her tongue.

Noah walked in, took the biscuit from her hand and snapped it in half. He ignored her vociferous protests and popped it into his mouth. ‘Damn it, that’s good,’ he said, after swallowing.

‘Wait until you taste her pan-fried trout with almonds. That’s on the menu for tonight.’

Noah walked over to the wooden sash window, placed his hands on the windowsill and looked out. ‘It’s so beautiful here, Morgan,’ he stated quietly. ‘The vines, the mountains...’

Morgan climbed off the bed and joined him at the window. ‘Isn’t it? This, more than any other place on earth, is my home. It’s where we mostly grew up. A Moreau forefather bought this place in the late eighteen-hundreds, with the profits out of the first diamond mine they worked, but the house and winery date back to the beginning of the century.’

‘The house is fantastic. From the moment you drive through those gates and up the oak-lined driveway you know that you are entering a place that’s imbued with history. The white gables, the exposed wooden beams, the wooden floors. And, God, the furniture.’

Morgan looked amused. ‘You’ve been around wealth before, soldier, why are you sounding so impressed?’

Noah gave her cheek the gentlest of flicks. ‘I’m not impressed by wealth and you know it. It’s the...
history
—the idea that your great-great-grandmother ate at that same table in the dining room that we will eat at tonight. It’s the continuity of family...’

‘Tell me about yours, Noah. Your family.’

Noah shook his head and his eyes hardened. ‘The only thing to tell is that they are nothing like yours. Socially, economically, mentally...the other end of the spectrum’ Noah looked around and raised his eye at the very luscious wooden canopy bed. ‘And that is one heck of a bed. One might say that it is fit for a duchess.’

‘If you play your cards right I might invite you into it.’ Morgan batted her eyelashes at him.

‘If you play your cards right I might say yes.’ Noah batted his eyelashes back.

Morgan laughed and he grinned.

Noah stepped up to her, rested his temple against hers, his hands loose on her hips. ‘James said that we’re having a wine-tasting in the cellar in fifteen minutes, and as much as I want you I also want to take my time with you. Every waking moment during that interminable flight I spent planning what I intend to do with you...to you.’

Morgan licked her bottom lip as her hands drifted down over his stomach. ‘Bet I could make a case for quick and fast now.’

Noah looked tempted, then swatted her on the backside before he walked away to the door. He gestured her through it ‘Stop leading me into temptation and show me Bon Chance.’

Morgan grinned as she drifted past him in a cloud of mischief and expensive perfume. ‘So you’re admitting that I
can
lead you into temptation?’

‘You know that you can,’ Noah muttered, and placed his hand on her lower back to push her away from the bedrooms and towards the magnificent yellow wood staircase. ‘Behave, Duchess.’

‘But I’d so much rather
mis
behave...’

Noah hooked his arm around her neck and placed his hand over her mouth. ‘Man, you’re a pain in the ass.’

Morgan giggled as she placed her butt on the banister and slid down the stairs, landing on her feet in the hall. It was good to be home. And it was fabulous to be home with Noah.

* * *

Noah pushed open the massive oak door to Bon Chance and ushered Morgan through it, his hand on the centre of her back. She inhaled his sexy aftershave and held his arm as she slipped her sky-high open heels off her feet.

‘I love this dress,’ Noah stated, pulling the fabric of the top layer of blush-pink silk organza between his finger and thumb and rubbing. The mini under-dress was a patchwork of different pinks...V neckline, black trim. She liked it, but judging by the gleam in Noah’s eyes he couldn’t wait to get her out of it.

Morgan tossed her clutch bag on the hall table, placed her hands on her back and stretched, pushing out her chest. She grinned when his eyes dropped and stayed on her chest.

Sometimes being a girl was the best fun ever—especially when you had a super-starry, sexy soldier looking at you with lust in his eyes.

‘So, my friends weren’t so bad, were they? You spent a lot of time talking to Jack and Luke,’ Morgan commented.

Noah pulled his eyes up to her face. ‘Uh...Jack knows my brother Mike. Journalist and photographer.’

‘Small world.’ Morgan glanced into the formal lounge. ‘Do you want a nightcap? My dad likes a drop of Macallan every night.’

‘My favourite whisky. Sounds good.’

Morgan walked in her bare feet into the lounge, shut the French doors behind her and opened a cabinet, revealing tumblers and a couple of bottles of whisky. ‘There’s an iPod on the shelf over there—do you want to choose some music?’

Morgan sighed when Sarah McLachlan’s voice filled the room. Taking a glass over to Noah, she pressed the drink into his hand. She was about to step back when Noah’s arms snaked around her waist and pulled her to him.

‘No, stay here. Dance with me again.’

Morgan swayed on the spot with him and then took the glass out of his hand and took a sip. Anyone would think that she had never danced with a man before, yet never had she been so aroused this quickly. Standing up on her toes, she grazed his chin with her lips and slowly kissed his mouth. The music vibrated with desire, with love lost and found.

She heard the bang of crystal hitting wood and felt one of Noah’s hands on her bottom, the other on the side of her face. Tongues tangled and hands rubbed at the restrictive barrier of clothing as the plaintive music faded into white noise. She groaned in the back of her throat as hearts clashed and tongues collided, stroked, duelled. One song drifted into another and Morgan murmured her dismay as Noah lifted his head and rested his forehead on hers. He tangled his fist in her hair and tipped her head up so that he could look into her sparkling eyes.

‘I need you, Morgan. I know we shouldn’t keep doing this...I promised your brother...’

‘You saved my life. Trust me, you are James’s new best friend—’

‘But I still need you. Want you.’

‘Then take me,’ she whispered.

Her eyes drifted closed and her lips parted as she tipped her head to allow him access to her neck, to the very sensitive spot in the hollow of her throat. He pushed his hand up under her dress and lifted it. Easily, quickly, he found her nipple with his thumb. Morgan groaned, desperately wanting his lips and mouth to continue the exquisite torture. She slid her hand over his hip and stretched her hand so that she barely brushed his erection. It was a faint touch, but Morgan felt the electricity power through him. She felt strong and powerful, and she increased the pressure of her touch and had Noah moaning aloud.

Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, Morgan eventually pulled the fabric apart and spread her hands over his chest, exploring his defined pecs and his washboard stomach. Pushing the shirt off his shoulders, she touched his collarbone with her tongue and inhaled the scent of his masculine skin.

‘You’re killing me here, lass. If you carry on like that it’s not going to be slow and it’s not going to be pretty.’ Noah muttered.

‘I never asked for either.’

Noah’s hand skimmed her thigh and moved across her pelvis. His thumb rested on her mound and she groaned when it drifted lower, yelped when he hit the spot.

‘It would be easier if we just got naked,’ Noah replied, spinning her around and looking for the zip that held her dress together. Morgan felt cool air on her back and sighed when Noah’s hot mouth touched her spine as her dress dropped. His big hands reached around to clasp her breasts and his fingers pulled her nipples into rock-hard points.

This was better than she could have imagined. Noah unclasped her bra and it fell to the floor in a pretty puddle of pink froth, and then her panties were pushed down her legs and she stood naked, her back to his chest, his lips on her neck.

‘You’re so beautiful.’

Noah turned her around and watched her with lowered lust-filled eyes as he dropped his hands to undo his belt. Morgan gripped the back of the antique couch and licked her lips as he pushed his pants down his legs, standing in front of her in a pair of plain black tight trunks, strained by his very impressive erection.

Two seconds later his trunks were on the floor, his hands were under her thighs and he was lifting her up, his penis probing her slick, wet folds. He held her eyes as he surged into her. He was hard and wonderful and her body shuddered.

‘So wet...so warm.’

Morgan moaned as she linked her arms around his strong neck. Her clitoris brushed against his groin as he pulled her even closer and she moaned and tipped her head back. She ground herself into him as Noah looked for and found her mouth. His tongue swirled and slid as he pumped his hips. Morgan groaned as she felt the fierce upward swing of concentrated pleasure...reaching out for that dizzying release... She lifted her hips and mashed herself against him.

‘Take it, baby. Use it,’ Noah said, his voice low and intense in her ear. ‘Use me! Take it all.’

She was all feeling, all concentrated pleasure, as she did what he said. She bucked and pumped, sinking into him and then using her hands against the couch to push up and away from him so that she could crash down on him again. Power and release built as her body became a vessel of shimmying, sensational pleasure.

Reaching, reaching, and then bursting, flying, Morgan flung her arms around Noah’s neck and held on as she split into a thousand pieces and was tacked back together with fairy dust. Somewhere, somehow, she knew that Noah had followed her over the edge; she could hear him panting in her ear, could feel the aftershocks rippling through his muscles, the slight softening of his erection inside her.

Morgan lost track of time; she wasn’t sure how long she sat there, half supported by the couch, half by Noah’s bulging-with-muscles arms. But eventually Noah slid out of her and held her as her feet touched the floor, holding her arm to make sure that she was steady.

Noah brushed her hair back from her face. ‘You okay?’

‘Good. Really, really good,’ Morgan said on a yawn. ‘Boneless.’

Noah picked up his pants, stepped into them and tucked himself away as he did up the fly. ‘Let’s get you dressed and into bed.’

Noah picked up her dress and she shimmied it over her head. Picking up their underwear, he shoved it into his pockets and picked up his shoes. Taking Morgan’s hand, he pulled her towards the French doors.

‘Upstairs.’

‘I don’t think I have the energy to climb those stairs.’ Morgan looked at the stairs doubtfully. ‘I’m utterly exhausted.’

Noah bent his knees, grabbed her around the thighs and tossed her over his shoulder. Morgan squealed and laughed and slapped his back. ‘I was joking, Noah! Put me down.’

‘I live to serve, Duchess. Stop wriggling or I will drop you on your imperial ass.’

* * *

Morgan woke up late and rolled over in her massive bed, looking for Noah. Not finding any part of his masculine bod in her bed, she sat up and scowled. He’d sneaked out, the rat, after a night spent exploring her in the most intimate ways possible. He’d reached for her time and time again and they had only drifted off to sleep when the sun had started to yawn, allowing its weak early-morning rays to drift over the mountain.

Being with him had been—bar none and by far—the best sex of her life. The sexy, slightly stand-offish soldier was an amazing lover: demanding, adoring, creative. He hadn’t allowed her to feel any modesty and had encouraged her to be forthright and honest. She’d felt comfortable telling him what she liked and didn’t like him doing.

There hadn’t been any ‘getting to know you’ or ‘wanting to impress you’ sex. It had been down and dirty—more like ‘I want to know how far I can push you’ sex.

More like the type of sex people had when they had known each other a while and were really comfortable in bed together. Weird and astonishing for their first few times together.

Morgan glanced at the clock. It was just past nine and, while she could easily roll over and go back to sleep, she wanted to be with Noah, here in her most favourite spot in the world.

Morgan pushed back the covers and padded over to the en-suite bathroom. Hearing muted voices in the passageway, she cocked her head. Riley and...her brother? What was James doing on this side of the passage? His room and study were on the other wing of the house—to the right of the staircase and not to the left.

Curious, she padded on tiptoe to the door and cracked it open. Her eyes widened as she saw James, still dressed in the pants he’d worn to the wedding and with his smart grey shirt bunched in his hand.

‘If you say it was a mistake, I swear I’ll stab you with...something,’ Riley hissed.