Accidental Texting: Finding Love despite the Spotlight

by Kimberly Montague

  "Isn't that what we're doing?" He kissed my cheek.

  "I need to know where this is going to go. Do you really want a future with me? Not like a few weeks, but the rest of our lives?"

  "Are you proposing?"

  The laughter in his voice made me elbow him lightly in the ribs. "I need you to be serious right now."

  "I'm sorry. Yes, I very much want a future with you. The only one I'd ever be happy with will include the word forever."

  "Then you need to do something about your friends." I felt him become very still. "I can't go on living here like this, and I don't want Anthony spying on me anymore."

  "Morgan, he—"

  "Tell me he didn't run to you immediately and tell you whatever it was he saw between Alvin and me."

  "He didn't—" I was really surprised by that, but then he continued. "He called me as it was happening."

  "Sean, this relationship is between me and you. It won't survive if they continue to interfere."

  "I can't just kick them out. I won't"

  "I'm not asking you to. I like that they're here for you. I like that they look out for you—it makes me feel better about your safety, but they have to back off of me. They have to stop questioning my every move. I honestly don't have a clue how you can prevent it. Maybe I should move back—"

  "No." His arms tightened around me again. "I'll talk to them. I'll pull Anthony off you as long as you promise to let me teach you how to protect yourself. I'm not letting you out of here, love. I can't."

  "But if it's going to—"

  "No."

  "Sean—"

  "No, Morgan. I'm keeping you and that's final."

  "Okay." We stayed standing there in silence, wrapped in each other's arms until the warmth became too much. I pulled away from him. "My cheeks are burning."

  He put his hand to my skin and smiled. He ran his hand down my cheek, my neck, all the way to my hands. "Your hands are still cold, but there are other methods of getting warm, you know."

  I raised my eyebrow at him and grabbed a blanket from the chest at the end of his bed. "What makes you think you're gonna get lucky?" I teased.

  He tossed some pillows in front of the fireplace and pulled me back into his arms on the floor. "Who says I expected to?" he shot back.

  I stuck my tongue out at him, and he groaned. "There are so many better uses for that tongue."

  I nodded and proceeded to show him many of them. It was only a matter of moments before I was ready to rip off my clothes, but he wouldn't let me rush. He pushed my hands away from my sweater and slowly untied the tie at my waist. He pulled my sweater off my shoulder, kissing the skin there delicately. When I was finally sweater-less, I pulled off my tank top swiftly, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

  "This isn’t a race, love."

  "You might not have an urgent need, but I do, and it's your job to see to my needs, so quit teasing me and get on with it."

  "Bossy today?" He laughed. "Well if you want me to be the one to make you scream…" I groaned and reached for him, but he pulled back. "You'll just have to deal with my pace."

  "When did you develop so much will power?"

  He stared intensely into my eyes, and I was struck by the sudden seriousness of the moment. "When I thought I'd really lost you, Morgan." His lips were gentle when they touched mine, his hands continued to work slowly, but I noticed they'd become a little more shaky as time went by. I gave in to the pace he set and tried to just enjoy the crazy tension he set off in me.

  When we were both finally naked, I thought I'd die at the feel of his skin against mine. It was warm and soft, but the solid strength of his coarse hair-covered legs intertwining with mine and his chest underneath my fingertips made everything in me ache with need. His hands glided over every inch of me, making it impossible not to moan and writhe in delight and torment. His lips found that area of skin that made me moan even louder and turned my brain to complete mush. I was bound to have a few bruises along my neck with the way he kissed and sucked at my skin, but it felt so good that I certainly wasn't going to complain.

  He took my hands in his, weaving our fingers together and firmly pulled me on top of him. I could barely breathe through the exquisite pressure burning like a fire through me as I finally got what I wanted. As I moved, he let go of my hands and grabbed at my hips and my breasts as if he couldn't get enough of me. I found a rhythm that had him panting and cursing in a low, deep tone that was almost a growl. The whole time, his eyes stayed connected with mine. When he clenched his jaw and bit into my flesh with his fingers, I slowed.

  "Morgan," he begged, but I just smiled. He took a few deeper breaths. "When did you develop so much will power?"

  "What did you say earlier? You just have to deal with my pace?"

  He growled at me, "Like hell." In a heartbeat, he had me on my back and was pushing into me with such force that I cried out at the wonderful pressure. All will power went out the window, and it was my turn to cling to him as he drove me completely wild with desperation. When I closed my eyes, he slowed. "Sweetie—look at me." His eyes were amazing, sparkling, and foggy with passion. "I love you, Morgan. I'll love you forever."

  I'd been afraid to tell him I loved him in L.A.. I'd been afraid to put my full faith and heart in his hands again. But he'd eased away that fear just as he'd eased away my fear of Brent. There was nothing holding me back, now. "I-I love you, too."

  He closed his eyes, his forehead wrinkled making it look like he was in emotional pain as he pressed his lips to mine with such tension. When he pulled back to look down at me again, his smile made my already rapidly beating heart increase its pace just as he increased his pace. I dug my fingers into his shoulders just trying to hang on through the incredible intensity of it all.

  When I screamed his name, his movements became even more desperate until he groaned, "Oh God, Morgan." The strength of his panting was in such contrast to his shaky arms as they gave out, and he collapsed against me. It took us both a while to recover the ability to breathe normally. I was sad when he moved off of me, but he wrapped his arm around my waist, bringing my skin back into contact with his.

  "The things you do to me, love," he said softly.

  "I bet you say that to all your women." I'd meant it in a teasing way, but he leaned up and looked me in the eye with complete seriousness.

  "No. You're the only one who makes me so damn insane with the need to make love to you. Not since high school have I even thought of the words 'making love' let alone said them. You do crazy things to me, Morgan Edwards. I wouldn't be so blindly desperate to keep you in my life if you weren't in a totally different league than any woman I've ever met." He kissed my lips with a gentle sweetness, but I felt the warmth of it throughout my entire body. "I love you, Morgan."

  Odd, but he looked a little nervous as he stared into my eyes. I rolled over to face him and put my hand against his cheek, my fingers looked small against the strength of his jaw and his prominent cheekbones. "I love you too, Sean—with all my heart."

  "S—say it again?" He sounded so nervous like he couldn't believe it.

  I pulled him closer to me, wrapping my arms around him as tightly as I could. "I love you, Sean. I don't know when it happened exactly—in L.A. maybe—but I know I'm in love with you. I love you."

  He touched his lips to mine in another gentle kiss. We lay there together for hours, talking and laughing. I missed the easy conversations we always had. There had been too much drama between us. Being alone with him, away from his career, gave me a sense of peace. It reminded me of the many times I sat listening to his stories on the phone. It felt familiar.

  When my stomach growled though, Sean sat up and declared it dinner time. We took a quick shower and emerged from our little hideaway to face his friends again.

  Who the Hell is this Chick?

  The living room I walked into was an entirely different atmosphere than the one I'd left. The guys were laughing about something on the TV, and Anthony was r
elaxed on the couch instead of glaring at me.

  "Who's hungry?" Sean yelled into the living room. There were several cuss words involved in their responses, but they were all some version of 'yes.'

  Stewie got up and walked over to me. "I'm guessing the talk went well." He winked at me.

  I could feel my cheeks heat up and ducked my head. He poked me on my nose and went into the kitchen where Sean was. I turned around and followed him, sitting at the stools in front of the counter.

  Sean was whistling as he pulled things out of the cabinets.

  "Computer's set up." Stewie pointed to a decent-sized flat screen built into the wall. It looked high-tech. It looked like it had been put in when they built the house. I got up to take a closer look.

  Sean came up behind me, pressing his body into mine. "There's a keyboard here." He pressed the middle of a stainless steel panel, and it opened to reveal a laptop-like keyboard with a touch pad in the center. "This is a touch-screen." He tapped the monitor with his finger and a picture of me appeared. "Troy has it hooked up to my server, so I can access my music and movies throughout the whole house."

  "Impressive."

  "She is, isn't she?" He stared at my picture on the screen.

  I rolled my eyes but smiled at him. "I was referring to the electronics."

  "That's just entertaining. You, my love, are impressive." He kissed my cheek and started pressing things on the screen until a movie appeared. I stood watching it for a moment until Sean kissed my neck and chuckled. He turned me around and pulled my hair back over my shoulder carefully. "You should pull your hair up, so I can show off my hard work." Hard work? I raised an eyebrow at him, and he kissed my neck again more forcefully.

  I pulled away from him slightly at the discomfort I felt on my neck and remembered his enthusiastic kisses from earlier. "You want me to show off your hickey?"

  "It's my mark on you." He grabbed my left hand and stared at it. "I'd prefer for there to be something right here marking you as mine." He rubbed my ring finger between his. "But I'll take what I can get."

  My heartbeat started jumping again, and my smile faltered. Was he serious? I mean, he'd said 'forever,' but we hadn't talked about marriage. It was still so soon. "Sean—we—"

  He put his finger to my lips. "No pressure, remember? I was just making a comment." I nodded, but it didn't calm down my heart. He pulled me back toward the stool. "I need to get back to cooking, but I was serious about putting your hair up."

  I just smiled at him, and he moved away from me. I sat back at the countertop next to Stewie and looked back at the huge TV in the living room and the screen in the kitchen. "So it looks like you bought some new things. I won't ask how much you spent, but I'm curious to know what else you bought."

  "Hmm." He stared at me, smiling softly. "I don't know if you really want to know. I'm worried what you'll think of me."

  "I have to accept all of you, including the pile of money you have. I need to start—just tell me the smaller things. Work me into it."

  "Alrighty, I bought a larger TV for the living room as you can see, and one for the basement. I also bought smaller TVs for every bedroom, a computer for you upstairs, and monitors will be hooked up in each room that will be connected to my server."

  "I can understand the other rooms, but the kitchen? Does the silverware need to surf the net?"

  He chuckled and shook his head. "I like to look up recipes online."

  I nodded. "So that's all you bought? That doesn't seem so bad." His smirk told me there was more. "Okay, what else?"

  "Small stuff, really. Some snowmobiles, skis, sleds, a Land Rover, some security equipment, a—"

  "A Land Rover?" I stared at him, surprised by the fifty thousand dollar purchase, although I knew I shouldn't have been. I tried to look composed.

  He shrugged. "It's safe and highly recommended for snow."

  I nodded, but I felt really uncomfortable—like the room got too small all of a sudden. It was irrational and a little childish, but I just felt a little freaked about it all. "I just—left my phone—upstairs." I rushed out of there and upstairs to my room. I just couldn't wrap my head around being able to go out and just say, "I'll take one of these and one of these, oh and two of those." I still had three years left on my loan for the used SUV I had, and he went out and threw down fifty grand like it was nothing. I was chewing through my meager savings, which was Mom's life insurance policy, and there were weeks when I only ate leftovers from the tea room in an attempt to save money. I sat down on my window seat and stared at the snow, trying to be rational and logical about it.

  The knock on my open door made me jump. Sean was standing in the doorway. I looked around for my phone, but I already knew it was in my jacket pocket downstairs, so I couldn't grab it as my excuse.

  "Morgan, what's the big deal? Why do you get so upset about this stuff?"

  I shook my head and wrapped my arms around my legs, preferring to pretend it didn't matter to me.

  "Morgan. Please explain it to me."

  "We just… I never had money. I mean, growing up, my mom always struggled. She worked two jobs most of the time. I only went to college because they gave me the loans to do it. I still make payments on those loans. You spent more on that vehicle than I did on my entire education—more than the loan I still have and make payments on every month for like the next ten years. It's just so much to take in—so different from anything I have a frame of reference for. And it's stupid and silly that I—"

  "No it's not," he interrupted. "I'm sorry you and your mom struggled, but it made you who you are. I'd love to pay off your student loan and help with the inn." I shook my head fervently, and he let out a long sigh. "I'm just saying I'd like to. I know how you feel, and I won't pressure you, but I wish you'd loosen up about my money. It means nothing if I can't spend it on things I need or want or people I love. These guys—they make my life livable. They hang out with me even though it's often a pain in the ass to, they protect me, and they give up a normal life to be my friends. If I can share my money with them to make their lives easier, then that's what I'll do and have been doing for years now. You—" He looked away from me. "I don't want to pressure you, so let's just change the topic."

  I nodded and leaned back against the wall, but he stepped closer and continued. "Before we leave the topic entirely, I bought some equipment for the inn, and I'm putting in a better security system there and in the barn. Before you get mad, your computer there is too old to run the software Troy wants to put on it so you can access all your work records from here. And the security system is to keep Cerise and Annalisa safe. Just because you aren't there, doesn't mean they won't still try to find you there."

  I closed my eyes and decided I had to make some concessions. I didn't want to fight against keeping everyone at the inn safe, especially keeping Cerise safe since she was living in the barn. I could justify the equipment as an expense that stemmed from being with Sean in that being with him had caused me to have to physically not be at the inn.

  "What? No argument?" he asked in surprise.

  "I can see the necessity for both. I'm not completely stubborn, you know."

  "I know you're not. And I love the stubbornness you do have. I just wish you'd let me share what I have with you." His voice was low and quiet, and he stared at me with a bit of sadness in his handsome gray eyes.

  I felt a little guilty for always turning away his help, but I just wasn't comfortable with the whole money thing. I was raised with the belief that you work your ass off to get what you want, and you don't take handouts. It was tough not to feel that Sean's money was a handout. I'd have to work on it.

  He put his hand out to me. "Come back downstairs with me, love. I don't want to be away from you." I put my hand in his. As we walked past my dresser, Sean stopped. "Here." He picked up a hair clip and handed it to me, smirking. "Pull your hair up."

  I smiled a little. "Did you give me a hickey just for them?"

  "No. I thorough
ly enjoyed myself. You're also the only woman I've felt the need to mark since high school. They know that. It's a good reminder for them that they need to back off." That made more sense. It was a way to show them the importance of our relationship.

  Understanding that motivation, I stood in front of the mirror mounted on the wall beside the door and pulled my hair into a loose bun. "Better?"

  He closed the door. "Hmm. It's a little off-balance. I think you need a hickey on the other side." His husky voice did tingly things to my belly. His open-mouthed kisses to the other side of my neck had my body strumming again in an instant.

  "Sean," I moaned into his ear as he put his hands on my hips and started walking me backward toward the bed. It was then that my stomach decided to protest with another loud growl.

  He pulled away from me but kept hold of my hand. "Later… we'll continue this discussion after I've fed you."

  Downstairs, I retrieved my phone from my jacket and went into Sean's room to check in with Cerise. There wasn't any new information about the inn other than the fact that the photographers had all but left. Only two stuck around but stayed across the street in their vehicles. She said reporters stopped in periodically, asking for interviews with me, but she declined all of them. I told her all about Alvin and managed to keep the tears from falling even though they were in my voice. She wasn't surprised it turned out the way that it did but was noticeably relieved to hear about Sean's reaction to the whole thing.

  When I came back into the kitchen, the delicious aroma of Italian food made me even hungrier. I carried my phone with me as I sat back down next to Stewie and watched Sean sing along to "Ain't Talkin' 'bout Love" while the Van Halen performance played on the TV screen in the kitchen. I smiled, watching him enjoy himself while he mixed up a spread for the bread.

  Just as the song came to an end, my cell phone rang. I was still laughing at Sean's attempt to hit a high note—he was not a good singer—when I looked down at the caller ID to find Brent's number. The air rushed out of my lungs, and I gripped the phone tightly.