The Cowboy's Craving (Book 4, the Mackenzies—Morgan)

by Diana Fraser

  “That sounds pretty cool,” said Morgan, glancing over Joe’s head at Rebecca.

  Rebecca sat back on her heels, relieved. Joe had somehow assimilated her science with his magic to come up with his own brand of magic.

  She thought of the differences between her parents and herself. And then she thought of the many differences between her and Morgan. So many differences and none of them mattered. Just because her parents had never expressed their love for her didn’t mean it didn’t exist. She remembered all of the little things they’d done to help her achieve her dreams and she made a mental note to return home soon to visit them. And Joe and Morgan would come with her.

  Suddenly she felt Morgan’s hand, reaching behind Joe’s head and finding her shoulder. She kissed it and brushed her cheek against it.

  Morgan cleared his throat. “You know, Joe, when I was young I reckoned I could see a taniwha in those stars.”

  Joe and Rebecca looked at each other and laughed and kept on laughing, even while Morgan stopped looking at the stars and sat back and watched them instead. Joe curled into a ball and laughed so hard that he held onto his stomach. His joyful, infectious laugh released the tension and Rebecca and Morgan joined in as the stress left them and drifted away, up to the stars.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rebecca looked up from her hot chocolate as Morgan walked into the kitchen at Glencoe. “Is he asleep?”

  “Yeah. It didn’t take him long. He was shattered after all he’s been through.” He patted his shirt pocket. “I’ve brought the baby monitor Gemma lent me, just in case he has one of his nightmares.” Morgan pulled up a chair at the table and sat down. “I should have thought about the guns. Stupid of me.”

  “You can’t think of everything. You look exhausted.” Rebecca went to the fridge. “Hot chocolate?”

  Morgan looked at her as if she’d gone crazy. “No way.” He rose and took a bottle of whiskey from the drinks cabinet and poured himself a big shot. “Reckon my new half-brother won’t mind if I indulge.”

  Rebecca smiled and sat down. “Reckon you’re right. Reckon your new half-brother would do anything for you right now. Gemma says he feels pretty guilty about how he behaved.”

  Morgan took a slug of whiskey and winced slightly as the fiery alcohol tracked down his body. “Neither of us came out of that well.”

  “That’s family for you.”

  Morgan nodded and looked uncharacteristically thoughtful as he nursed his whiskey.

  “Don’t worry about Joe,” said Rebecca, misunderstanding his silence. “He’s talking to us now, we’ve found out what the issues are and so now we can get help for him.”

  Morgan looked up at her with a complex expression in his eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “You keep saying ‘we’.”

  “Oh,” said Rebecca, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”

  “No, don’t apologize. I like it.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Reckon I do.”

  He got up from the table and stood with his back to the open fire, looking at her with dark eyes, illuminated by the red glow of the fire. His broad chest rose and fell in a deep sigh before he took another mouthful of whiskey. Then he tilted back his head, closed his eyes and sighed again.

  “You should go to bed.”

  He looked back at her again, his eyes hot with desire. “Yes, I should. But not without you.”

  She swallowed and he walked over to her and extended his hand to hers. The look, the words, the strength of his hand as he took hers, sent shock waves of desire flashing through her body. She tried to breathe evenly but failed. She opened her mouth to speak but her mouth was dry with longing and her gaze fell to his lips. His fingers curled around hers and before she knew it she was standing.

  “Now, are you coming to bed or am I going to have to put you over my shoulder and carry you there?”

  “Put me over your shoulder,” she repeated faintly, as her imagination ran riot.

  “Right then.”

  Before she could explain he’d scooped her up as if she weighed less than a small bale of hay, and put her over his shoulder, one hand firmly over her thighs while he finished off his whiskey.

  She squealed. “Morgan West! Put me down, I was only repeating what you said. I didn’t think you’d do it.”

  “I’m a literal man, Rebecca. You should know that by now.” With the empty whiskey glass now placed on the table he ran his free hand over her bottom, and she moaned and stopped wriggling, her whole attention focused on the path his fingers were taking.

  “Um,” she groaned, grinding her hips against his body as his fingers found their target. “Oh, Morgan…” she moaned again.

  He stopped abruptly. “Hold that thought.” He pushed the door open suddenly, stepped out into the hall way and nearly bumped into Callum.

  “Night, Morgan,” Callum said calmly, as if he regularly witnessed Morgan walking off to bed with Rebecca over his shoulder. A deep blush bloomed on Rebecca’s cheeks but Morgan didn’t set her on her feet, instead he continued toward the staircase.

  “Night, Callum.”

  “Sleep well, Rebecca.”

  Rebecca could hear the laughter in Callum’s voice. “Goodnight.” She lifted up a red face to see Callum disappear into the kitchen and close the door behind him. “Oh, Morgan,” she said. “What’s Callum going to think?”

  “That we’re about to have sex, I should imagine.”

  “Oh my,” she replied faintly, as Morgan continued upstairs as if nothing had happened. Once at the top of the sweeping staircase, he walked purposefully past his own door. “Which guest room is yours?”

  “The one at the end.”

  The old-fashioned brass door handle rattled as he twisted it and swept open the door. Her blush deepened as she thought how anyone along the corridor must have heard his heavy tread, their voices and the opening of her door. It seemed Morgan really didn’t mind who knew about them. The thought made her happy.

  They entered the room and she pushed the door shut with her hand. He walked up to the bed and then released his grip on her and she slid down his body and came to rest on her feet. She looked up at him and he looked down at her, not with tenderness, not with respect or deference, but with a sense of total control that made her legs weak.

  “Better undress now,” he said, standing back from her with folded arms.

  “Morgan? What are you doing?”

  “I’m making demands on you. Just like you dream of.”

  “But they were just daydreams, just, well, fantasies.”

  “Darling, I’m here to make those fantasies come true. So stop talking and take off your clothes. And pass me that scarf of yours, because we’re going to need it.”

  It wasn’t until much later that Rebecca slipped her hands free from the knots of the scarf which Morgan had deftly tied to the old-fashioned brass bed head. He’d tied them in a very loose knot. She hadn’t noticed before because she hadn’t wanted to move them. But now that she did, she could.

  She smiled. He’d given her what she wanted but on his terms. There was no way that Morgan would ever do anything to anyone that was cruel or unkind. She curled into his warm body and he brought his arm around her, keeping her close. She sighed and went to sleep.

  She awoke with her body still curled around his, her leg over his, his arm still holding her in place. She knew he was awake even without the evidence of his steady heartbeat and regular breathing.

  She shifted slightly and he trailed his fingers lazily down her back. She shivered and he pulled the duvet higher over her, leaving his own body exposed. She kissed his chest and rested her cheek against it, rubbing it against the springy hair, breathing him in, wanting to hold him deep within her in any way she could.

  He stroked her hair and kissed the top of his head. “I need to go back to my room. He glanced at the child monitor which had been silent all night. “I don’t want Joe to wake and
not find me there.”

  “Sure.” She felt a stab of regret but knew he was right. But she couldn’t resist tempting him. As he pulled away she swept her long hair over his chest, stomach and lower. Goosebumps bloomed along the trail of sensation her hair had left. And that wasn’t the only thing.

  She knelt beside him and ran her finger down the length of his chest, his stomach and lower… around his erection, before withdrawing it and slipping her hands demurely under her knees. “Off you go then.”

  She smiled sweetly, a smile that turned into a laugh as his eyes narrowed and he reached out for her. But she was too quick and sprang off the bed with a yelp. But he followed. Barefoot, she felt the difference between his height and strength to her own more keenly. Knowing how easy it would be for him to overpower her, knowing all he could do to her if he had a mind, intensified her arousal. She shivered, but not with cold, and backed up against the door.

  “You going somewhere, Princess?” he asked with raised eyebrows and no smile.

  “Uh-uh.” She shook her head.

  “Good.” He pressed his hands either side of her and it was all she could do to not reach out for him and pull him hard against her. But she might as well have done. Her rapid breathing, her nipples, peaked and needy, would have given her away before his finger running slickly along the length of her wet folds. She opened her legs to give him easier access but he withdrew his hand and slid his hands under her bottom and lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his hips as she slipped onto him, pulling herself over him, bringing him home, deep inside her.

  She flung back her neck and groaned as his lips found her neck. Slowly she pulled her hips away from him, her mind attuned to every slick movement, every exquisite slide of her body against his. Each flicker of sensation took her closer to the place she wanted to be. She closed her eyes, aware only of him inside her, supporting her, allowing her to do what she wanted with him, to gain as much pleasure as she could from him.

  She came with a loud cry, opening her eyes to see a look of total concentration in his eyes and in the tension around his mouth as he focused solely on giving her pleasure. She relaxed into his safe arms. She wanted more but this time she was going to let him take her there.

  His grip tightened around her, his eyes narrowed as he grunted with each deep thrust inside of her. She held herself slack in his arms and angled her hips for him. She wanted him to know that she was his for the taking. And she could tell by the narrowing of his eyes and by the flexing of his muscles that he understood his power. And he took her. Completely and absolutely.

  Rebecca watched him as he got dressed. She loved watching him. He did everything with such purpose and economy. He was so sure. She sighed and looked out the un-curtained window. The stars were less bright now as morning approached. It had always made her a little sad, watching the stars fade from the sky. And she felt a little like that now. Even though Morgan had told her he loved her yesterday and sort of proposed to her, he’d not spoken another word about his feelings or their future together since. Seems there were drawbacks to the strong silent type.

  She turned to look at him again as he collected his things and shoved them in his pocket, watching what he was doing, not her. Irrationally, she wanted him to look at her, she wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling about her. He was so self-contained.

  “Are you staying at Glencoe tonight?”

  He shrugged. “I’m going to see how Joe is. If he’s okay, we’ll move into town. And after that I’ve made plans for us.”

  She brought her knees up to her chin and put her arms around her legs. “Oh.” She hoped the ‘us’ included her but couldn’t bring herself to ask. “Oh,” she repeated. “What kind of plans?”

  “What are you doing later on?”

  “Nothing much. Why?”

  “I’ll show you what I have in mind.”

  “For you and Joe?”

  Did she imagine it or was there a twinkle in his eye? “Yes.” He glanced at the child monitor. “Look, I have to go now, but I’ll see you later.”

  He closed the door with no further ado and she just sat looking at it. He was impossible! Then she flung herself back onto the pillows.

  By the time Rebecca had showered and dressed Morgan and Joe had left Glencoe. And so she’d taken her time leaving Glencoe. She’d insisted on helping Gemma do her chores and spent time with baby Violet. And then by lunch time, when Morgan and Joe still hadn’t returned, she decided to return to her own home. Maybe he’d meant that he’d catch up at her home, rather than Glencoe.

  “I’d better go.” But she didn’t get up, still sat watching Gemma make some final brush strokes to her current painting.

  Gemma gave Rebecca a swift assessing look before returning to her painting. “Sure.” Gemma squirted some more paint onto her palette and began to mix it carefully with another color. Only then did she break the silence. “I asked Callum, but he didn’t know where Morgan had gone. After what happened yesterday, maybe he’s taken Joe to see someone. Was there no reply to your texts?”

  “No. He’s hopeless with his phone. It’s always slipping under the seats in his ute, or under the bed, or”—she sighed—“or he just doesn’t want to answer me.” Gemma’s look of sympathy was enough to make Rebecca jump up from the settee. She gave her a big hug. “Thanks for everything,” she said too brightly. “It’s been quite a few days!”

  “Becks! Stay a little longer, I’m sure—”

  “No! Honestly, I have to get back.” She backed out of the studio. “Your painting is beautiful, by the way. You’ve caught Callum exactly, and you, and Violet…”

  Gemma looked back at the painting and, with her attention once more absorbed in her painting, Rebecca slipped away.

  She was glad it was the weekend and she didn’t have to head off to work. She was having enough trouble focusing on everyday life, let alone her research.

  She threw another log onto the fire, and curled up once more in the old, comfy armchair and tried to concentrate on the academic text she was writing. But as she tried to focus on the data she’d gathered on star formation efficiency, her mind slipped back to Morgan.

  She sighed and slid her laptop onto the coffee table.

  Was Morgan avoiding her? Did he regret telling her that he loved her? Were the plans he’d alluded to earlier only for him and Joe?

  She picked up her phone again, willing it to ring, but unable to pluck up the courage to press the button that would make his phone ring. She didn’t want to be another woman from whom he dreaded receiving phone calls.

  She sat back and closed her eyes, lulled by the warmth of the fire and exhausted from a sleepless night.

  She was soon asleep and her dreams were no better than her reality. She was running toward someone in a crowded space, someone who looked like Morgan. She reached him and he turned around but it wasn’t Morgan. It was a stranger. Just some stranger she didn’t know. She backed away and then heard a loud bang. In her dream it was gunshot and ducks flew up high in the sky, over a tree-house where a little boy looked out, fearfully. Then the sound came again but the boy disappeared. She tried to cry out, to reassure him but she couldn’t seem to make a sound.

  “Rebecca?”

  She opened her eyes to see Morgan looking down at her.

  She scrambled to her feet, getting caught in the mohair blanket that she’d been curled up in. “Morgan! What? How did you get in here?”

  “I banged on the door but you didn’t come, so I came around the back and saw you asleep. Are you okay? Sounded like you were having a nightmare.”

  “Yes.” She pushed her hands through her hair. “Probably. It doesn’t matter.” She drew in a shaky breath and caught his gaze and held it, as a rush of anger came back to her. “Where have you been?”

  He shrugged. “Why? What’s the matter?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m being silly. It’s just that I thought... it’s just that I wondered if you..
.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what was really on her mind. That she was scared that now she’d decided her future was with him, that he’d changed his mind.

  He frowned. “I’ve been busy—”

  “Too busy to call me? Too busy to leave a message? Must have been something important to make you that busy.”

  “Yes, it was,” he said quietly.

  “Oh…” His reply pricked the bubble of her anger and it dissolved instantly.

  “I took Joe to see someone, someone who can help him. And I did some business at the same time.”

  “Business?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind?”

  He walked over to the coat stand, unhooked her coat and held it out for her to take. “Put on your coat and I’ll show you.”

  It was a half-hour ride out of Lake Tekapo and late afternoon by the time Morgan pulled off the road and drove up a rough track and stopped on a ridge.

  He got out the ute and Rebecca followed him. There was the scent of spring in the air.

  “I remember this place. This is where we rode to.”

  “That’s right. It’s quicker by horse but I thought you might not be so keen a second time.”

  She looked up at him and grinned. “Good thinking.” She took a deep breath of the still cold air, now edged with a hint of sweetness. “It’s so beautiful up here.”

  “Sure is. I brought Joe here earlier and we decided where the house is going to go.”

  She frowned. “The house? What house? What are you talking about?”

  “A house.” He pointed. “Over there, just below the ridge. High enough to get all day sun, but it’ll be sheltered from the southerly by the ridge behind.” He smiled and she melted under its warmth. His smile seemed sunnier, more satisfied than any she’d seen before. “It’ll have a fierce view. All the way down the valley, to the lake.”

  “You are going to build a house here.”

  He glanced at her with a smug, self-satisfied expression. “I thought you’d be a bit quicker on the uptake than that, Dr Mayhew, with you being so clever and all.”