on with what was important—i.e. giving her a mind-blowing orgasm—but she made herself speak. ‘Okay...what?’
‘Do you still have a Brazilian?’
‘Well, soldier, why don’t you take a peek?’
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Their heads flew up and turned in unison. Both looked at the door in utter disbelief.
Noah, his hand in her panties, lifted his eyebrows. ‘Expecting someone?’
‘Uh—no.’ And she wanted them to go away, while she and Noah got back to what they were doing...which was him doing her.
And doing her rather well.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
‘Morgs, you’ve got thirty seconds, then I’m using my key.’
‘James!’ Morgan looked horrified as she pushed Noah away. ‘Clothes—where are my clothes?’
‘Scattered,’ Noah said as he stood up. ‘Get dressed and I’ll delay him.’
‘Open the door, Morgan!’ James yelled. ‘And who is with you?’
‘We’re coming!’ Morgan yelled back.
‘Not in the way we’d hoped,’ Noah stated as he reached for his shirt.
‘Shut up!’ Morgan growled, wiggling into her pants. ‘Pass me my bra.’
Noah scooped up her bra, threw it towards her and tucked his shirt into his pants. When she was dressed, he gestured towards the kitchen.
‘Got anything alcoholic?’ he asked.
Morgan nodded towards an antique drinks cabinet in the corner and flipped open the bolt to her front door.
‘James,’ she drawled, ‘have you ever heard of the concept of calling before you arrive? It’s called etiquette. I’m sure Mum tried to teach us some.’
Morgan turned away and walked towards Noah who, being a good Scot, had found her expensive bottle of whisky and was pouring a healthy amount into three glasses.
‘Morgan.’
Something in her brother’s voice had all the hairs lifting on the back of her neck and arms. She turned around slowly and really looked at her brother. His face was bone-white and there were deep grooves in the lines running down next to his mouth. His eyes, green like hers, were flat and hard in his face.
‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded. ‘Is it Mum?’
James lifted up his hands. ‘She’s okay...really she is, Morgs, but something’s happened.’
Morgan sensed Noah’s approach and instinctively turned to look at him. He was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and paused briefly, lifting an eyebrow in James’s direction.
‘What are you doing here anyway, Fraser?’ James scowled.
Morgan figured that James really wouldn’t want the answer to that question. Besides, he was a big boy—he could figure it out himself. Instead she gripped the back of one of the kitchen stools and tried to find her voice. ‘Mum? What’s happened, Jay?’
James gave Noah another tough look before running his hands over his face. ‘Mum had an...incident earlier tonight.’
‘Define “incident”,’ Noah said, and all traces of her earlier lover dissipated with those two words. He was in work mode, professional to the core. Serious, smart, and very, very dangerous.
‘Jackson was walking Mum through the parking lot of Luigi’s—she was meeting Dad for supper—when they were jumped by three guys.’
‘Who is Jackson?’ Noah grabbed a glass and handed it to Morgan. ‘Drink.’
‘My mum’s long-time bodyguard and driver,’ Morgan answered, grateful for something to do with her shaking hand.
Noah passed a whisky to James and gestured for him to carry on.
‘Luckily Dad and Henry—Dad’s bodyguard—were in the parking lot at the same time and saw what happened. Jackson and Henry reacted quickly—’ James released a huff of frustration and sipped his whisky. ‘The bodyguards got into it with the kidnappers while Dad picked Mum up—she’d been tossed to the ground in the fight—and bundled her into the car.’
‘But not hurt, right?’
‘Grazed chin and knees, sprained wrist,’ James replied, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
‘It’s okay, Morgan.’ Noah reached over and squeezed her shoulder. ‘She’s fine. What
‘Do you still have a Brazilian?’
‘Well, soldier, why don’t you take a peek?’
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Their heads flew up and turned in unison. Both looked at the door in utter disbelief.
Noah, his hand in her panties, lifted his eyebrows. ‘Expecting someone?’
‘Uh—no.’ And she wanted them to go away, while she and Noah got back to what they were doing...which was him doing her.
And doing her rather well.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
‘Morgs, you’ve got thirty seconds, then I’m using my key.’
‘James!’ Morgan looked horrified as she pushed Noah away. ‘Clothes—where are my clothes?’
‘Scattered,’ Noah said as he stood up. ‘Get dressed and I’ll delay him.’
‘Open the door, Morgan!’ James yelled. ‘And who is with you?’
‘We’re coming!’ Morgan yelled back.
‘Not in the way we’d hoped,’ Noah stated as he reached for his shirt.
‘Shut up!’ Morgan growled, wiggling into her pants. ‘Pass me my bra.’
Noah scooped up her bra, threw it towards her and tucked his shirt into his pants. When she was dressed, he gestured towards the kitchen.
‘Got anything alcoholic?’ he asked.
Morgan nodded towards an antique drinks cabinet in the corner and flipped open the bolt to her front door.
‘James,’ she drawled, ‘have you ever heard of the concept of calling before you arrive? It’s called etiquette. I’m sure Mum tried to teach us some.’
Morgan turned away and walked towards Noah who, being a good Scot, had found her expensive bottle of whisky and was pouring a healthy amount into three glasses.
‘Morgan.’
Something in her brother’s voice had all the hairs lifting on the back of her neck and arms. She turned around slowly and really looked at her brother. His face was bone-white and there were deep grooves in the lines running down next to his mouth. His eyes, green like hers, were flat and hard in his face.
‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded. ‘Is it Mum?’
James lifted up his hands. ‘She’s okay...really she is, Morgs, but something’s happened.’
Morgan sensed Noah’s approach and instinctively turned to look at him. He was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and paused briefly, lifting an eyebrow in James’s direction.
‘What are you doing here anyway, Fraser?’ James scowled.
Morgan figured that James really wouldn’t want the answer to that question. Besides, he was a big boy—he could figure it out himself. Instead she gripped the back of one of the kitchen stools and tried to find her voice. ‘Mum? What’s happened, Jay?’
James gave Noah another tough look before running his hands over his face. ‘Mum had an...incident earlier tonight.’
‘Define “incident”,’ Noah said, and all traces of her earlier lover dissipated with those two words. He was in work mode, professional to the core. Serious, smart, and very, very dangerous.
‘Jackson was walking Mum through the parking lot of Luigi’s—she was meeting Dad for supper—when they were jumped by three guys.’
‘Who is Jackson?’ Noah grabbed a glass and handed it to Morgan. ‘Drink.’
‘My mum’s long-time bodyguard and driver,’ Morgan answered, grateful for something to do with her shaking hand.
Noah passed a whisky to James and gestured for him to carry on.
‘Luckily Dad and Henry—Dad’s bodyguard—were in the parking lot at the same time and saw what happened. Jackson and Henry reacted quickly—’ James released a huff of frustration and sipped his whisky. ‘The bodyguards got into it with the kidnappers while Dad picked Mum up—she’d been tossed to the ground in the fight—and bundled her into the car.’
‘But not hurt, right?’
‘Grazed chin and knees, sprained wrist,’ James replied, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
‘It’s okay, Morgan.’ Noah reached over and squeezed her shoulder. ‘She’s fine. What
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