Morgan changed into her soft cotton pj’s, pulled on socks for her constantly cold feet, and snuggled under the luxurious Egyptian-cotton sheets. Elias had broken her heart. When he rejected her because she couldn’t mother his children, it confirmed her worst fears. Men wouldn’t want her. For the second time in her life, she struggled with feelings of inadequacy and not being a real woman for losing a part of her body that was essential.
Once again her mama had realized it was not a regular heartbreak but ran so much deeper. On her urging, Morgan found a great therapist and joined a support group where other women struggled with the same issues. And she rebuilt herself for the second time.
Now, at thirty years old, she looked at the world differently. She no longer thought of herself as less and knew the right man would love her for everything she was and nothing she wasn’t. Elias had never been meant for her. And Morgan didn’t waste time wondering where Mr. Right was. She was too busy living her life.
She picked up her Kindle. Now done with Nora Roberts, she opened up her new BDSM erotic series and read for the next hour. Finally she clicked off the light and snuggled against the pillow. The clean scent of cotton rose to her nostrils, and an image of a shirtless Caleb Pierce drifted past her vision. Rock-hard muscles and tight abs. Eyes that glinted like charcoal and burned like fire. Strong hands that caressed with a leashed power able to break her. She imagined him as a delicious dom type, stripping her, laying her out on the bed, and fucking her hard. Her body shivered, and her pussy throbbed with need. His kiss told her the type of lover he’d be. Controlling but patient. Thorough but demanding. Raw and dirty yet tender. Her nipples peaked into hard points, and her skin grew hot and itchy with desire.
Morgan slid her hand down her body and under her panties. Already wet and needy, she closed her eyes and let her fingers bring her temporary relief while the fantasy of Caleb Pierce took her away.
And she came with his name on her lips.
chapter eight
For God’s sake, where is everybody?”
Cal tore off his hard hat and scratched his head. Sweat ran down his neck and back in tiny rivulets, so that his T-shirt clung to him. His jeans stuck to his legs, crusted with dried dirt, and he cursed as he stalked over to Jason, the only guy left on the job. Foo Fighters screamed from the boom box, and Caleb stopped in front of the ladder, motioning to Jason to stop hammering.
“Why are we the only ones here?” he yelled up at him.
Jason dragged his forearm across his brow. “Dude, the crew went out to Harry’s last night for dinner. I think they got blasted.”
Temper bit him like a rattlesnake. “I don’t give a shit what they do on their time, but with this deadline, I can’t lose four of my guys. We have to finish framing.”
Jason shrugged. “I went home to get laid. Don’t take it out on me.”
He cursed again and grabbed his cell, punching in the numbers for Sam, his foreman. Son of a bitch. Morgan was due here soon, and his workers decide to tie one on and sleep in. It was nine o’clock and already hot as Hades. This was gonna be a bitch of a day.
“Why is your ass not here?” he growled into the phone when Sam picked up.
His usual dependable worker groaned. “I think I ate something bad, boss. I’m sick.”
Caleb ground his teeth in tempo to the music. His dentist was gonna strangle him. “It’s called a hangover. Morgan’s coming this morning, framing is supposed to be done, and I only have Jason out here. Take some Midol and get your ass over here with the other bozos.”
“Isn’t that for PMS?”
Caleb hung up. He shoved the hat back on his head, maneuvered his way through the multiple beams, and dragged in a deep breath. With such a tight schedule, he’d left little room for error. It had been a miracle they hadn’t hit major issues with the first stage. Sure, they’d gotten a shitload of rain, but he’d pulled in every favor in his arsenal and bought himself a huge team for site prep, pouring the foundation and dealing with the usual horror of setting up the sewer and drain lines.
The usual bitch of such a large job was depending on so many other people to get the work done. Tristan and Dalton had been key in moving this along, though they grumbled most of the time they were using their talent to grease wheels rather than do any hands-on building. Plenty of time for that later, though. Without his electricians, plumbers, excavator, and suppliers happy, work would ground to a halt.
Why the hell did he get involved in this business again?
It sure wasn’t for the glory. Or the money. No, this was high-stress, ass-kissing, physically draining work not meant for the weak of heart.
Yeah. He loved every fucking second.
Caleb thought of calling his brothers for backup, then remembered Dalton had another job and Tristan was in New York to meet with the textile supplier Morgan was hot for. He liked his guy right in town, but that had been another go-around he wasn’t up for, so he stuck it on his brothers to solve. She reminded him of Dalton when he got crazed for a specific type of wood grain and refused to back down. Impossible to argue with. She was rising to the rank of the most annoying, frustrating woman he’d ever met. Too bad he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her again.
On cue, she climbed out of the car.
Yeah, he was in trouble. Lately all his spare thoughts had been focused on making her happy in ways that didn’t concern work. It was getting harder not to get hard on a regular basis around her. Every time he tried to figure out what it was about her that fascinated him, he only got more pissed.
Because she had completely ignored the kiss.