“I love you, India.” The words were easier the second time. “I love you.”
“I…” India’s voice cracked, and she laughed. “Pitiful.”
Morgan felt his heart constrict. Another second, and it might break.
“Shouldn’t make yourself say something you don’t mean.”
“But I do.” India took his face between her hands. “The moment feels so big, so important. Three little words mean so much.”
India took a breath, Morgan held his.
“I love you.” Air rushed from her lungs. “I love you, Morgan. So much, I feel my heart might explode.”
“Mine already did.”
Giddy, India threw her arms around him.
“In the movies, this is where we kiss.”
Morgan took her chin between his fingers, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip.
“The hell with the movies. We’re real, India.”
“We are,” she agreed, her eyes shining with love, not tears. “Kiss me, Morgan. And make it real.”
Outside, cold wind and snow blew hard against the cabin walls. Inside, the temperature rose, higher and higher. Morgan and India. The world around them didn’t matter. Their past, their future, were forgotten as they clung to each other and lived in the moment.
Morgan took his time. Love was wonderful, but India needed more before her body would be ready. He touched her the way she liked, finding the places he knew drove her crazy. She breathed a sigh against his lips, warm and perfectly pitched.
“Slowpoke. Thought I’d be a fallen woman by now.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Morgan warned, grinning when his wandering fingers turned her smirk into a gasp. “You like when my mouth is on your pussy. My dick, inside, is more complicated.”
“Says you.” India slapped a condom into his hand. “I’m ready.”
Morgan’s patience melted with another mind-blowing kiss. The strings of India’s bikini snapped with one tug. He tossed the scraps of material over his shoulder.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised.
“I don’t care.” Restless with need, India’s fingers bit into his shoulders. “Now. Please.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, settling between her legs. “You can only lose your virginity once.”
“I’ve never wanted anything more than to make love with you.” India held his gaze. “We are, aren’t we? We’re about to make love.”
“Yes.”
Morgan hesitated. Fast, or slow? One quick thrust, or should he go inch by inch?
“Not too fast, or slow,” she instructed. “Steady pressure all the way.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow.
“I did some research on the subject.”
“Will I hurt you?” Morgan asked. The thought made him wince.
As though he were the one about to have his hymen decimated, India placed a soothing hand on his arm.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Every woman is different.”
Sweat broke out on Morgan’s forehead, the muscles in his arms straining to hold him in place. God, he wanted her. But…
“If I hurt you, hurt me back.”
“Okay.”
For some reason, Morgan expected India to argue. He should have known better.
“What do you suggest?” she asked. “A punch in the arm? Better still, I’ll twist one of your balls.”
“Jesus. No!”
Morgan glanced down, half-expecting his dick to shrivel and his balls to disappear into his body. Neither happened. They were still good to go.
“Depending on the degree of pain, I’ll decide when the moment’s right.”
“Enough talk.”
“Finally!” India cried out in exaltation. “Victory is mine.”
“Why, you sneaky little…” Morgan laughed. “Always need to have your way.”
A smug smile on her lips, India shrugged.
Morgan pushed forward, and India’s smile was replaced by a gasp.
“Steady pressure,” he said.
When she winced, he almost stopped. India had other ideas. She wrapped her legs around his hips and surged upward. Panting, Morgan waited.
“Ouch,” he yelled. “You pinched me!”
“Now you know how I felt. Sort of. The difference is, you don’t have a big poky thing shoved up inside of you.”
Morgan looked in her eyes. When he saw her amber eyes laced with need, the last of his anxiety disappeared.
“Want me to get out?” he teased.
“Don’t. You. Dare.”
Slowly, Morgan pulled back then pushed forward.
“Put your hand on my hips,” he instructed. “You set the pace.”
India wasn’t in the mood to fool around.
“Just go, damn it.”
Morgan took over and did as she asked. When India cried out his name, he let go completely and followed her over the edge to the most intense orgasm of his life.
“Did you come?” he asked, gathering her close.
“Yes.” She sounded surprised. With a happy sigh, she placed her head on his shoulder. “And thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
They didn’t speak, content to rest in each other’s arms. Aware they didn’t have the luxury of a whole night together, Morgan left India sooner than he would have liked. Naked, he replenished the fire. In the kitchen, he placed a candle on one of Marcy’s cupcakes. Rather than a chorus of Happy Birthday to You, he chose something less traditional—better suited to a non-traditional woman.
“You know it doesn’t make much sense. There ought to be a law against. Anyone who takes offense. At a day in your celebration.”
“You have an amazing voice,” India said. “Did you write the song?”
Morgan shook his head.
“Stevie Wonder. He’s a genius. I’m just a—”
“Genius in the making.”
Morgan chuckled.
“I was going to say, I’m just a hack by comparison. I like your way better.”
India wrapped the quilt around her shoulders and blew out the candle.
“Did you make a wish?” Morgan asked as he snuggled in next to her.
“Can’t tell you or the wish won’t come true.” She scooped a bit of frosting onto her finger, laughing when he stole her treat with a swipe of his tongue. “Ask me in ten years. I’ll tell you then.”
“Will I have the chance to ask?”
“Maybe.” India took a bite of cupcake and sighed. “So good. Now, where’s my present?”
“Who said I bought you anything?”
“You aren’t very stealthy where package hiding is concerned.” She took another bite of cake. “Under the mattress.”
“Twit,” Morgan grumbled. He handed her the present and noticed it didn’t look any better in the glow of firelight.
India didn’t seem to notice. In fact, she beamed as she unwrapped the box and tied the length of ribbon around her hair. Suddenly nervous, Morgan stopped her before she could look inside.
“Don’t get the wrong idea.”
“Okay.” Practically bouncing with anticipation, India flipped open the lid. She pushed aside the tissue paper. “I won’t.”
“Earlier, when we talked about the future, I forgot about your present.”
“Morgan,” she gasped. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”
“The pawnshop down on Bleaker Street had a display in the window. Amber set in silver. Seemed like fate.”
“A ring.”
“Just a ring,” he rushed to explain. “Nothing symbolic.”
“You mean we aren’t engaged?” India's eyes went wide. “I’m shocked.”
As she slipped the ring on her finger, Morgan relaxed. Perfect fit.
“Didn’t want you to think I’d jumped the gun.”
“Someday,” India said. “Maybe.”
“Maybe.” Morgan nodded. “When you go away to
college, you need to live a full life.”
“Meaning?”
“Have fun. Go to parties. Make friends.” He brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her ringed finger. “If you meet someone you like, or love, be with him. Live a full life.”
India nodded, her gaze clear and direct.
“The same goes for you. The world is a big place filled with interesting people. You’ll be with other women.”
Morgan started the conversation, but he felt odd now that the focus was on him.
“I suppose.”
“Definitely,” India said. “You can’t think about my feelings, and I can’t worry you might be jealous. Otherwise, we won’t, as you said, live a full life.”
Morgan knew India was right. They needed to spell things out now before they moved forward.
“And if in four years, we find our way back to each other?” he asked.
“We’ll know we belong together. No doubts.”
“No recriminations.”
India gave him the last bite of her cupcake. She licked a smudge of frosting from the corner of his mouth and sighed.
“I do love you.” Eyes shining, she touched his cheek. “Even if we don’t end up together, I always will.”
“And I love you. Forever. No matter what.”
Promises, made in the safety of their hideaway, were easy. When the world intruded, who could say what would happen? They had a good, solid plan, and Morgan believed in their love.
Maybe they would find their way back to each other. Maybe not. Only time would tell.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
♫~♫~♫
THE NEXT TWO months were the best of Morgan’s life.
At the end of December, India’s parents went on their annual winter getaway. Their sojourn varied, but the point was to trade the cold Michigan weather for the warmth of the southern hemisphere. This year, they chose a cruise on a private yacht—naturally.
Morgan didn’t care if Rance and Aurora Curtis flew to the moon. Until the end of March when her parents returned, India was unshackled from her father’s demands and constraints.
“We can’t go crazy,” India warned as they lay in each other’s arms, the cabin lit by candlelight. “Nothing public. Remember, Dad has eyes all over town. However, now that football and volleyball seasons are over, I’m free.”
“Are you?” Morgan asked as he trapped her hands above her head.
India giggled.
“Free to pick my afterschool activities,” she clarified.
Nuzzling the side of her neck, Morgan kept her from moving with one hand. He used the other to caress the long length of her smooth, supple body.
“And?” he urged.
“I choose you.”
They were young, in love, and it turned out, foolishly arrogant. They grew bold and careless. If Morgan had stopped to think with his head instead of his heart, he would have realized when you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.
Sound asleep, vulnerable, Morgan didn’t have time to defend himself against his father’s unexpected attack. One second, his head was on his pillow, the next, his ass was on the floor.
“Stupid little fuck.” Laird McCloud stood over Morgan, fully dressed, fists clenched. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Morgan tried to scramble to his feet but before he could gain his balance, his father shoved him back to the floor. Rather than follow the same pattern, again and again, he used his brain and stayed where he was until he could figure out what was going on.
Heart racing, Morgan kept his voice casual, almost conversational.
“I spend most of my waking hours thinking about a lot of different things. You want an answer, you need to be specific.”
Fresh anger flared in Laird’s bloodshot eyes. Morgan knew the difference between drunk and lubricated. The smell of cheap whiskey told him Laird had been drinking, yet, he was in possession of all his faculties, and he was royally pissed off. The combination made him dangerous.
“Always fast with the clever comeback.” Laird ground out the words through clenched teeth. “So damn smart. One step ahead of the rest of us fucking numbnuts. Right?”
Morgan shrugged.
“Not this time, asshole. You fucked with the wrong person—literally. Now, you have to pay the price.”
Afraid, but still not sure Laird knew anything, Morgan tried to bluff.
“Again, I need details,” he said with more bravado than he felt. “You know me, I fuck a lot of people.”
“India Curtis,” Laird growled. “Ring any bells?”
Dread washed over Morgan, cold and clammy. Air hitched in his throat. He forgot how to breathe, how to talk, how to move. Son of a bitch.
He didn’t care about himself. Morgan’s only thoughts were for India and all at once, he regained control of his faculties. He jumped to his feet, ready for a fight.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“What you gonna do? Be the hero? Save the princess?”
“Tell me where she is.”
Laird gave Morgan another hard shove. This time, feet spread, he held his ground. Surprise flashed across his father’s face as though for the first time, reality hit him full-on. He wasn’t dealing with a kid, but a young man physically his equal; perhaps, in a fair fight, his superior.
From the twist of Laird’s lips and the narrowing of his eyes, Morgan could tell the realization of their new dynamic didn’t sit well.
“Forget India Curtis.” Laird wiped at the fine layer of perspiration gathered on his upper lip. “She can’t help you, and you can’t help her.”
“If anyone laid a finger on her, I’ll—”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Laird bellowed. “You had your pick of girls in this town, and you had to go after the one guaranteed to ruin your life.”
“I love her.”
“Right,” Laird scoffed. “Don’t kid yourself. Love isn’t real, it’s a justification. You wanted to get in the rich girl’s panties, and she needed a reason.”
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Morgan said. “You’ve never loved anyone. Not even yourself.”
“Fool’s game.” Laird threw Morgan’s backpack at him. “Grab whatever you can. Clothes, money. You won’t be coming back.”
“Shit.” Morgan scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re throwing me out?”
No problem, he thought as he filled the backpack. Marcy and Sven would take him in a heartbeat. The farm was home, not here. But first, he had to find India.
Arms crossed, Laird shook his head.
“Not me, jerkoff. The two idiots in the other room will have the honor. But they won’t be as sweet and gentle.”
Half-listening, his mind racing ahead to more important matters, Morgan pulled on his clothes. Bending to tie the laces on his boots, he sent Laird a frown.
“What idiots?”
“The men Rance Curtis sent to kick your ass.”
Though he was surprised his father hadn’t volunteered to do the deed, Morgan didn’t doubt Laird’s word. Thinking fast, formulating a cobbled-together plan, he took the money he kept hidden under the loose floorboard by his bed and tucked the bills down into his boot.
“Good to know you haven’t lost all your common sense,” Laird said. “And forget the window. You can’t outrun what’s about to happen.”
Morgan eyed his only escape route, calculated his odds, and sighed. Quickly shifting gears from flight and fight mode, a wave of resignation settled over him as he buttoned his coat. Fine. Let them do their worst. He’d take the beating. Then, he’d find India.
“I won’t run,” he said as he looked his father in the eye. “Just tell me one thing. Is she okay?”
“For fuck’s sake. You’re about to get your balls handed to you in a sack, and you’re worried about some spoiled-ass rich girl?” Laird sighed, his lip curling into a sneer. “Must be true love.”
�
��Yes.”
“Bullshit. India Curtis doesn’t give jack about you.”
Morgan pictured India the last time he saw her, cheeks rosy red, eyes gleaming. She loved him. He had no doubt
“You’re wrong, old man.”
“You want to know about your princess? As we speak, she’s on a private jet, winging her way to a fancy boarding school. Can’t tell you where, but take my word, she’s going first class all the way.”
“Switzerland,” Morgan said, his heart sinking to his feet. Exactly as India predicted.
“Whatever.” Laird snorted. “Think she’s worried about what’s about to happen to you?”
“Yes. I do.”
“She’s safe and sound, surrounded by luxury, waited on hand and foot. Probably sipping champagne and scarfing down caviar as we speak. Trust me, she’s already forgotten your name. Her father’s daughter—selfish, through and through.”
“No.” Morgan shook his head. His faith in India would not be shaken by his father’s cynical outlook.
“You were her rebellion, boy. Exciting, forbidden. A chance to thumb her nose at daddy for a little while. Fun’s over. She’ll move on, and up, faster than you can blink an eye.”
“You’re wrong,” Morgan said, his temper rising.
“Daddy Curtis has more money than God. Someday, so will she. She learned at birth the only person India Curtis needs to care about to survive, is India Curtis.”
Morgan didn’t believe his father for a second. He’d held India in his arms. Spent hours talking, sharing their hopes and dreams. He knew her heart, he’d seen into her soul. She was nothing like Rance Curtis.
“Let’s go.” Laird nodded toward the bedroom door. “Don’t forget your stuff.”
“Cause I’m not coming back?” For the first time, Morgan felt a frisson of genuine worry for himself.
“Like I said.” Opening the door, Laird motioned him to go first. “Scared?”
Scared wasn’t the word Morgan would have used. Cautious was a better description. He could take a beating. However, he wasn’t ready to die.
“What’s the plan?” he asked as his father escorted him down the hall.
ALMOST EVERYTHING Page 14
