Entitled: The Love Duet: Book 1

by L. M. Carr

  “Oh, you’re into me alright. I don’t know why you’re fighting me so hard on this.”

  I raise my chin defiantly.

  “I bet if I slid my fingers into you, they’d be soaked.”

  I gulp and tighten my core muscles, lifting my chin as a surge of bravado rises up from my toes. “Wanna bet?” I challenge with a raised eyebrow.

  Andrew secures my braid in his tight grip and tugs gently, pulling me closer. Whispering menacingly, he replies, “You’re playing with fire, Morgan.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I look at him and lean in, ghosting my lips over his. “I’ll take my chances; I learned fire safety when I was a Girl Scout.” With a swift movement, I pull my braid from his clutch and smirk.

  ♦♦♦

  The drive back to my parents’ house is riddled with sexual tension as Andrew and I deliver reciprocal, witty one-liners, laced with innuendos until he pulls the car into an empty lot, slams on the brakes, enshrouding us in darkness. The light from the dashboard illuminates his face and all signs of playfulness disappear.

  “Say one more word and I swear to God, I’m going to drag you to the backseat and fuck the hell out of you right here, right now.”

  I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Promises, promises, promises.”

  That was it!

  Like he said he would, Andrew jumps out of the Hummer, races around the passenger’s side window and stands there staring at me. Panicked, I quickly press the button to lock the door because the look in his eyes warns me he is serious. A hundred percent serious.

  “Open the door,” he demands, glaring at me through the closed window.

  I glance over at him and shake my head no.

  “Morgan, open the door.”

  “Nope,” I reply, unclicking my seat belt as a devious grin slides onto my face. A motion sensor on the side of the building flickers on and casts a shadow behind Andrew. I suddenly realize I’ve been presented with the perfect opportunity to drive him completely insane. I can’t really explain my thought process as I shift my body and lift each leg slowly, leaving them outstretched and spread wide along the dash in front of me. I sigh heavily and tilt my head to the right to look at him. Ever so slowly, my hand slides to the crux of my inner thigh.

  “Don’t you dare?” he growls, shaking his head slowly.

  “Do what?” I ask as my hand moves lower and slides up and down against the seam of my jeans, creating wonderful friction. “What are you going to do about it, Andrew?”

  “Open the door!” he spits through gritted teeth.

  Ignoring his demand, I release the button on my jeans and allow my hand to disappear into the cavern of heat and moisture. The pad of my middle finger grazes over the buzzing nub and my eyes remain focused on his.

  “Oh my fucking God.”

  With small circles, my mind imagines his fingers are the ones arousing me this way instead of my own. I bite down on my bottom lip as the pressure in my body builds. My eyes flutter to a close while I pleasure myself in front of him, and I fight to maintain control until the pounding on the window startles me. Distracted, I screw my eyes shut and let his name slip from my lips in a whispered moan. The impending orgasm is so close; knowing that Andrew can only watch spurs me to continue on with my pursuit.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls in the dark.

  “I’m so close.”

  “Morgan!” he rebukes sharply before slowly enunciating each word like a punctuated syllable. “Do. Not. Make. Yourself. Come.”

  Again his words fall on deaf ears as I continue.

  “Do you fucking hear me?” A closed fist raps on the window. “Don’t do it. I want it! Morg—”

  I’m just about there...then a flash of colored lights and the sound of a siren frighten me, and I’m forced to relinquish my quest for utter bliss. I open my eyes and hiss under my breath when I see the police officer. “Nice timing, big brother!”

  Blinded by the headlights of Gabe’s police cruiser, I shield my eyes with my free hand, pull my shirt down over my unzipped pants and then sit up. A quick glance to my right reveals the absence of Andrew. After pressing the button to lower the window, I pray the scent of my near climax doesn’t drift in the air when Gabe walks over.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant but find it nearly impossible to hide the annoyance and guilt that taint my voice.

  Gabe lifts his hand and produces my purse. “Molly said you left it.” He looks around in the dark. “Where’s Andrew?”

  “I’m right here,” Andrew says with a strained voice.

  My mouth opens slightly then transforms into a side smirk when he steps into view from behind the vehicle, adjusting his shirt over his pants.

  “Couldn’t wait another second,” he says, addressing my brother.

  My brother’s eyes dart from Andrew to me. Nodding slowly, he considers the situation then asks if I’ll still be home in the morning for Sunday breakfast.

  I nod. “Yeah, we’ll be there. I already told him,” I tip my chin toward Andrew, “all about the French toast.” I moan dramatically. “It’s so moist and sweet. He’ll be begging for more.”

  Andrew’s eyes narrow slightly when my brother makes his return to the cruiser but doesn’t move.

  The black and white vehicle rolls to a stop and the window descends.

  “I’ll pick up some donuts,” my brother calls out with a chuckle.

  “Of course you will,” I reply.

  Returning my attention to Andrew when I feel the weight of his stare, I smile coyly. “Well, that was...interesting.”

  “Don’t ever do that again,” he commands then walks around to the front of the Hummer and climbs into the driver’s seat. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths.

  “You feeling okay?” I ask, genuinely concerned for his well-being because he looks like he’s going to explode.

  “What—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs so quietly I barely hear it.

  Grinning, I shoot back. “I didn’t do anything to you, Darling.”

  Immediately assaulted by the collision of his mouth against mine, Andrew devours my additional words of sarcasm and plunges his tongue in deeply, dueling angrily as if trying to regain control of the situation. His hands cup my face and angle my head, providing unrestricted access to my neck. A torrent of kisses are showered on my skin until his lips once again find mine.

  My arousal reignites when his hand slides into my pants, and his fingers resume the circling motion on my oversensitive clit. I grab the back of his head and deepen the kiss, fully prepared to surrender my orgasm to him.

  “I’m gonna co—”

  I have one foot over the proverbial edge of ecstasy and then everything stops. His fingers freeze and the swirling of his tongue is suspended.

  “What the hell, Andrew?!” I protest against his lips, my eyes wide with disbelief.

  Slowly, he pulls back, creating some space to look at me.

  “I told you to stop before, didn’t I?”

  I gulp. The quiet, lethal tone of his voice renders me speechless so much so that I’m only able to nod once.

  “Did you listen?”

  From right to left, I shake my head slowly.

  With seriousness etched across his face, he warns, “Don’t ever do that again.”

  ♦♦♦

  I climb the front steps with Andrew following closely behind.

  “I still can’t believe you did that!”

  “Me? You fucking locked me out of my own car and shoved your hand down your pants!”

  “I didn’t really do it,” I toss back a lie.

  Andrew steps in front of me and grabs my right hand, raising it to his nose.

  I watch with rapt attention as he opens his mouth and licks each digit slowly.

  “I beg to differ,” he replies with a smirk.

  “I hate you!”

  “No you don’t. Actually, I believe you said something earlier today about loving me.”

/>   “About that...”

  The front door creaks open.

  “Hey, you two are back,” my mother states, looking up from her laptop when she spots us coming in the front door. “I was just finishing some online shopping. I got the cutest things for little Connor. I’ll tell you what...they didn’t have cute clothes when my boys were that age.”

  I subconsciously reach for the button on my shirt and double check I’ve secured it properly. Andrew’s hands took a detour and ventured on a journey, exploring the swells of my breasts after finally making me come.

  Darting his eyes quickly while a smirk appears on his face, Andrew suppresses his amusement.

  “Did you need to use the bathroom?” I tease, knowing his erection is stiff and his balls might explode from the pressure. “It’s down the hall.” I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “Last door on the left.”

  After watching him exit the room, I sigh heavily.

  “What is going on with you two?” my mother asks with curiosity on her face. Her sly smile is a dead giveaway that she’s aware of our chemistry.

  I pull out a chair and plop myself down, crossing my arms on the table and dropping my head quite dramatically. “Oh, Mom!”

  “You really like him, don’t you?” I feel her hand caress the strands of hair on my head.

  Lifting my head slightly, I meet her gaze and nod. “I can’t like him. I shouldn’t like him, but I do. So much.”

  The look on my mother’s face reveals her confusion. “Honey, why can’t you like him? He seems like quite a catch if you ask me.”

  I make a mental list of the criteria which qualifies him as “a catch.”

  “We have fun together. He’s smart. He’s playful. He’s kind and generous,” I pause, knowing I can’t provide a detailed explanation of his generosity to my mother. “We just click.”

  “Well, what’s the problem then?”

  “He’s super moody and temperamental. I don’t think he’s right,” I whisper, pointing to my head. “He’s got a lot going on in there and he won’t talk about it.”

  Her eyes widen and round. “Mental health issues?”

  I shrug. “No, I wouldn’t necessarily say that. I mean, he...I don’t know how to explain it. I guess he’s damaged goods.”

  “Damaged goods?” my mom repeats, her voice laced with offense.

  With a blank expression on his face, Andrew walks in and interrupts our conversation.

  I return my attention to my mother whose hand is now stretched across her forehead with her thumb rubbing small circles against her temple.

  “Hey, how’s your headache?” I ask.

  She drops her hand. “It’s okay.”

  “Are you taking your medication?”

  “When I need it,” she says with a tone that suggests the conversation is over. “I’m heading to bed.”

  I yawn, suddenly exhausted by the roller coaster of emotions I’ve experienced in the last hour. “Yeah, we’re going to call it a night too. Is the guest room all set?”

  Blinking rapidly, my mom avoids my gaze.

  “What?”

  “Dad put an air mattress on the floor in your room for Andrew.”

  “What’s wrong with the guest room?” I ask, wondering if I missed a conversation about a new project.

  She grins and looks at Andrew. “Unless you want to spend the night in a crib...”

  The realization hits me. “Ohhh, gotcha.” I may be thirty-two years old, but to my father I’m his little girl. “Air mattress it is.”

  My mother rises, kisses my cheek and smooths a hand over my hair just as she’s done my entire life. “Night, Mom. Love you.” She returns the sentiment then walks over to Andrew. “I’m really happy you came with Morgan.” She stands on the tips of her toes and pecks his cheek with a soft kiss. “Good night, Andrew.”

  His tall frame visibly stiffens after my mom’s display of affection.

  “Good night, Mrs. Montgomery.”

  “Please call me Lori. Whatever you do though,” she smiles, “do not call me Lorraine. It’s such a,” she air quotes, “grandmother’s name.”

  “Ma, you are a grandmother!” I remind her.

  “True, but I’m a young gramma. Connor and I have so much fun together. I think I might be a better grandmother than I was a mother.”

  I rise from the table and laugh, wrapping my arms around her small frame. “Impossible. You are the best mother in the world. In fact,” I look back at the beverage on the table, “You even have a mug to prove it.”

  “And you turned out to be such a good daughter,” she teases, recalling the time I was brought home in the back of a police cruiser. To this day, I still swear my innocence; it wasn’t my fault. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the Devil made me do it.

  “Mom! That was once! If you knew all the things Coop and Gabe did...” I shake my head to shame her. “You would probably have a heart attack and die right here.”

  She steps away and throws her hands in the air. “I don’t want to know.” Continuing to repeat the phrase, my mom ascends the stairs until I hear the soft click of her door.

  “I like your mom,” Andrew states softly.

  “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

  “But she’s wrong about something.”

  My forehead wrinkles. “Wrong? About what?”

  Striding quickly, Andrew stops inches away from me. “I haven’t come with you yet.”

  My hand rises and slaps against his chest. “Is that all you ever think about?”

  With amused eyes, Andrew nods slowly, confirming my suspicions.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” a whispered voice asks, causing me to turn and look over my shoulder. A heavy blanket is wrapped around my body, cocooning me from the chill in the air.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I reply to Andrew whose head is peeking through my open window. Despite my father’s intimation, Andrew and I slept in my full-size bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I couldn’t sleep either. That thing you call a bed is rock solid.”

  Tossing him a grin, I chuckle at his reference but argue that he could’ve slept on the air mattress.

  Carefully navigating his way through the window and stepping slowly over the roof shingles of the porch below, Andrew crouches low, maintaining his balance, until he reaches me. “How the hell did you get out here?” he asks as he sits beside me with his unlaced shoes flat against the cold surface and his knees bent.

  “I’ve been doing this for years. I used to sneak out of my room in the summer and meet up with my friends.”

  “Mason?” Andrew asks quickly.

  I look at him in the dark, his face lit by the moonlight. “Sometimes.”

  “Next question,” he says, rubbing his hands together to elicit warmth from the friction. “Why are you out here now? It’s freezing!”

  Like an eagle spreading its wing, I extend my arm, inviting him to join me beneath the heavy blanket where it’s warm and cozy.

  “I don’t think it’ll quite reach around me,” he says, removing the entire blanket from my body.

  “Hey! What are you doing? You can’t just take that! I was using it!” I protest, wondering how he can be so sweet then so annoying and selfish at the same time.

  “And now I’m using it.”

  Just as I open my mouth to spew a string of profanities at him, he stands, moves and straddles me from behind.

  “Now sit back,” he commands, his breath at my ear.

  With me nestled between his legs and my back pressed against his chest, Andrew covers our bodies with one swift motion, enveloping us together as the air fills with our body heat.

  “I thought for sure you were just going to take it and leave me high and dry,” I confess. “You have been known, on occasion, to take things that don’t belong to you.”

  He chuckles and claims it isn’t his fault.

  I counte
r, “It is your fault! You’re so entitled.”

  “Again, not my fault.”

  Detecting the humor in his voice, I turn to look at him and he presses his lips against mine, stealing a quick kiss.

  “I didn’t say you could kiss me.”

  “You didn’t say I couldn’t either,” he challenges with a raised brow.

  “I bet you were a spoiled brat when you were a kid, huh?” In a split second, I feel the rigidity of his body and I’m quick to rectify my assessment. “I’m just kidding.”

  More than a minute ticks by until Andrew speaks.

  “I was more than a brat; brats have some redeeming qualities. I was just a really bad kid. I used to drive my parents crazy.”

  Teetering on the edge of wanting to know more but not wanting to push too hard, I maintain my composure because the fact that Andrew initiated this conversation is a huge deal.

  “How bad could you really have been? Like I’ve told you a hundred times, you were the apple of your mom’s eye. If I ever have a kid, I hope to love him as much as she loved you. She loved her Ace.”

  I feel his chest rise with a deep inhale before he blows it out slowly.

  “You’re right,” he says, swallowing audibly. “She did love him.”

  A cold shiver runs through me not only because of his words, but because of the tension seeping from him.

  Shifting my body, I turn to look at him, and my heart aches when I see sadness mingled with grief on his beautiful face.

  “What are you talking about? Aren’t you Ace?” I breathe, reaching up to caress his cheek.

  “Never mind,” he says abruptly, pulling his face away, leaving my fingers to linger in the air.

  “No, Andrew. Tell me what you’re talking about,” I insist. “You wouldn’t have said anything if you didn’t want me to know.”

  Angling his head, Andrew crushes his mouth against mine, dipping his tongue in quickly as his hand settles on my ribcage.

  “Let’s go back to your room,” he suggests.

  “No.” I pull back and glare at him.

  He exhales deeply.

  “Who did your mother love? Who’s Ace?”

  As if debating whether to confide in me or not, Andrew searches my face, perhaps looking for my trustworthiness.