Sunlight streams through the kitchen windows, painting Morgan’s hair in shades of fire as she moves around , a dangerous dance of dosticity that makes my heart race. It’s been two weeks since I lost my finger, a fortnight of heaven-on-earth in her beach house, and sohow, the injury barely registers anymore when she’s this close to .
“Can you pass the salt?” I ask, stirring the eggs with my good hand. My left is still bandaged, but I’ve gotten surprisingly adept at working around it. The doctors were impressed with my progress at yesterday’s check-up, apparently a clean cut heals faster than a jagged one.
Morgan slides the salt shaker across the counter, her hip brushing against mine in a way that can’t possibly be accidental. She’s been doing this all morning, little touches, fleeting monts of contact that leave burning for more.
“How are the eggs coming along?” she asks, leaning over my shoulder to inspect the pan. Her breath tickles my ear, and I have to suppress a shiver.
“Almost done,” I manage, trying to focus on cooking rather than the press of her breasts against my back. “The toast should be ready any second.”
As if on cue, the toaster pops, and Morgan moves away to retrieve the bread. I find myself smiling as I watch her, the graceful way she moves around the kitchen, the casual intimacy we’ve fallen into so naturally.
She glances over her shoulder, catching staring, and raises an eyebrow. “Why are you smiling?” she asks, her lips curving upward in response.
I shrug, suddenly feeling shy under her gaze. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just having a good ti.”
“Oh, is that right?” she says, her voice teasing as she arranges the toast on our plates. There’s sothing knowing in her eyes like she can see right through to all the complicated feelings I’m trying to sort through.
I turn off the burner and divide the eggs between our plates, gathering my courage. “Hey, Morgan?”
She looks up, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Yes?”
“I was wondering...” I pause, trying to find the right words. “Is this just the honeymoon phase we’re in? Or is this what being together would actually be like? You know, long-term.”
The question hangs in the air between us, more vulnerable than I intended. My heart pounds as I wait for her response, suddenly feeling exposed.
Morgan’s expression softens, her green eyes studying with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. She sets down the butter knife and steps closer, taking my face between her hands.
“Why, Adam Avery,” she purrs, “are you thinking about long-term with ?”
Her thumbs stroke my cheeks, and I can sll her perfu, sothing expensive and intoxicating that I’ve co to associate with safety and desire in equal asure.
“Maybe,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... this feels different. Easy, sohow. Even with this.” I gesture to my bandaged hand.
Morgan’s lips curve into a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Sothing flickers across her face, triumph before it’s replaced with tender affection.
“Honeymoon phases end,” she says, pressing her forehead against mine. “What we have is just beginning. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
She kisses then, soft and sweet, so different from the desperate hunger of our bedroom encounters. When she pulls away, her eyes are shining.
“I feel the sa way,” I confess, the words escaping before I can overthink them. My good hand finds her waist, pulling her closer. “It’s like you’ve known forever.”
Morgan’s smile widens as she traces her fingers along my jawline. “I’ve felt that way since the mont we t,” she whispers. Her eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
“So...” I venture, emboldened by her admission. “What kind of future are you looking for? You ntioned wanting kids before, but what about marriage? Is that sothing you see for yourself?”
Morgan’s expression shifts, her lips curving into a smile that’s equal parts arrogance and seduction. She steps back slightly, studying with those penetrating green eyes.
“Marriage never really interested ,” she says, her voice silky smooth. “But I must admit, the thought of walking down the aisle while you look at like I’m your whole world...” She trails off, her fingertips dancing across my chest. “That might be fun.”
My heart hamrs against my ribs. There’s sothing both thrilling and terrifying about the way she says it, not as a romantic fantasy but as a possession, a conquest.
“So you’d consider it? With ?” I ask, surprised by my own eagerness.
Morgan laughs, the sound like wind chis in the sunlit kitchen. “Adam Avery, are you proposing to over breakfast?”
“No!” I blurt out, my eyes widening as I take an instinctive step back. “God, no. I wasn’t proposing. I just wanted to make sure we’re looking for similar things, you know? In the long run.”
My face burns hot with embarrassnt. The eggs are cooling on our plates, forgotten in this sudden awkward mont I’ve created.
Morgan’s smile vanishes instantly, replaced by a coldness I’ve never seen before. Her green eyes narrow, and the temperature in the sun-filled kitchen seems to drop several degrees.
“Why not?” she asks, her voice suddenly brittle as ice. “Am I not good enough to marry, Adam? After everything we’ve shared?”
Her question hits like a physical blow. The warmth and intimacy of monts ago evaporates as she crosses her arms, her entire posture transforming from playful lover to wounded lion.
“What? No! That’s not what I ant at all!” I stamr, panic rising in my chest. Her expression remains frozen, those piercing eyes demanding an explanation. “Morgan, of course, you’re good enough. You’re more than good enough. You’re... you’re incredible.”
I step toward her, but she doesn’t soften. Sothing about her stillness makes my heart race faster.
“If marriage with you would be like this, like the past couple weeks has been, then of course I’d want to marry you, I just didn’t want to rush things or make assumptions about what you wanted.”
Sothing shifts in her expression then, the ice thawing as her lips curve upward. The change is so sudden it leaves dizzy.
“Say that again,” she commands softly, uncrossing her arms.
“Which part?” I ask, confused by her rapid mood swing.
“The part where you said you’d want to marry .” Her voice has returned to that silky purr, but there’s an edge to it now, a hunger that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“I would want to marry you,” I repeat, my voice steadier this ti.
Morgan closes the distance between us in two fluid steps. Her hand finds the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as she pulls my face down to hers.
“You should only marry soone you truly love, Adam,” Morgan whispers against my lips, her green eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. “Is that what you’re saying? That you love ?”
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibility and danger. My mouth goes dry as I stare into those hypnotic eyes, feeling like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, too warm, the sunlight too bright.
“I...” The word catches in my throat. It’s been only two weeks since my accident, barely even a month since Lana. Everything with Morgan has moved at lightning speed, a whirlwind that’s left breathless and disoriented. Yet sohow, it feels like we’ve been together forever.
Morgan’s fingers tighten in my hair, not painful but insistent, demanding an answer. Her other hand slides to my chest, resting over my thundering heart.
“Adam,” she prompts, her voice soft but unyielding. “It’s a simple question.”
I open my mouth, then close it again. The weight of the question paralyzes . Love? We’ve barely been together. The logical part of my brain screams that it’s too soon.
Morgan’s face hardens as she reads my hesitation. Her fingers release my hair as she steps back, eyes flashing with sothing dangerous.
“For god’s sake, Adam!” she snaps, slamming her palm against the counter. “You spend so much ti overthinking everything! Just look at .”
She grabs my face between her hands, forcing my eyes to et hers. Her green eyes blaze with intensity, demanding sothing from I’m not sure I can give.
“Gut reaction,” she commands, her voice low and fierce. “Do you love or not?”
Ti seems to freeze as I stare into those hypnotic green eyes. My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. The logical voice in my head fades to background noise as sothing primal takes over.
“Yes,” I whisper, the word escaping before I can analyze it to death. “I love you.”
The mont the words leave my lips, I know they’re true. Despite the rushed tiline, despite Sarah’s warnings, despite everything, I’ve fallen for this woman completely.
Morgan’s face transforms instantly, all traces of anger vanishing as a radiant smile blooms across her features. She releases my face, her eyes gleaming with sothing I can’t quite read.
“Must be nice,” she says with a playful smile, her voice light and teasing again. “Being so in love with .”
Before I can respond, she takes my hand and pulls toward the couch. I follow, stumbling slightly as she tugs down beside her. She curls up against the armrest, picking up a magazine from the coffee table and flipping through it casually.
She doesn’t say another word. Doesn’t even look at .
The sudden shift in her deanor leaves reeling. Just monts ago, I confessed my love for her, a huge, monuntal admission, and now she’s acting like nothing happened, absorbed in so glossy fashion magazine as if I’m not even here.
My palms grow sweaty as I sit rigidly beside her. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the occasional flip of a page and the distant crash of waves outside.
A knot forms in my stomach. Does she just want to love her? Is that all this was about, getting to say those words? Maybe she doesn’t feel the sa way. Maybe I’ve been misreading everything about our connection.
I shift uncomfortably, stealing glances at her profile. Her face reveals nothing, serene and focused on the magazine in her hands. My heart races faster as anxiety creeps up my spine.
Morgan suddenly looks up from her magazine, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she catches staring. Her eyes sparkle with knowing amusent.
“What’s wrong, baby?” she purrs, tilting her head. “You look so anxious. Did saying those three little words break your brain?”
Heat rushes to my face as I realize she’s been toying with this entire ti. Her expression is almost predatory, like a cat that’s cornered a particularly entertaining mouse.
“I just...” I stamr, running my hand through my hair. “You didn’t say anything back, and I thought maybe…”
I never finish my sentence because Morgan lunges forward, knocking onto my back with unexpected force. The magazine goes flying as she straddles . Her lips crash against mine, demanding and possessive.
“I love you, Adam,” she breathes against my mouth, her voice trembling with intensity. “I love you so much it hurts.”
I’m caught off guard by the sudden shift, but my body responds imdiately, arms wrapping around her waist as I return her kiss with equal fervor. Her weight on top of feels right, grounding as the world spins away.
“I feel like I was born to love you,” she whispers between kisses, her hands framing my face with surprising strength. “My heart feels like it’s always ached for you.”
There’s sothing almost desperate in the way she kisses , like she’s trying to devour , to crawl inside my skin. Her tongue explores my mouth with practiced precision, drawing a low moan from my throat.
“Say it again,” she demands, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. Her pupils are dilated, nearly swallowing the green of her irises. “Tell you love .”
“I love you, Morgan,” I repeat, the words coming easier this ti.
She makes a sound sowhere between a sob and a laugh, diving back in to capture my lips. Her teeth graze my bottom lip, just shy of painful before her tongue soothes the sting.
“Mine,” she murmurs against my jaw, trailing kisses down my neck. “You’re mine now, Adam. Do you understand? Mine forever.”
The possessiveness in her voice should alarm , but instead, it sends a thrill down my spine. There’s sothing intoxicating about being wanted this fiercely, about being the center of soone’s universe.
“Yes,” I agree, my good hand tangling in her hair as she nips at my collarbone. “Yours.”
Morgan lifts her head, her eyes wild and shining with unshed tears. “I would kill for you,” she says with such matter-of-fact conviction that my breath catches. “I would burn this world to ashes if anyone tried to take you from .”
I brush off her intensity with a small laugh, pulling her close.
“I love how passionate you are,” I whisper against her lips, kissing her softly. The weight of her on my chest feels right, like she belongs there. “But let’s not burn the world down just yet, okay?”
Morgan’s eyes sparkle as she traces my jawline with her fingertip. “You think I’m being funny,” she says, not a question but an observation. “You have no idea what I’d do for you, Adam.”
“I think you’re adorable. And I love you for it.”
The words co even easier now, flowing naturally like they’ve been waiting to escape. Morgan’s face lights up each ti I say it, her entire body seeming to vibrate with joy.
“Say it again,” she demands, pressing her forehead against mine.
“I love you, Morgan Quinn,” I oblige, enjoying the way her breath catches. “I love everything about you.”
She kisses again, deeper this ti, her hands cupping my face like I’m sothing precious she’s afraid might disappear. When she pulls back, there’s a vulnerability in her eyes I’ve rarely seen.
“I’ve never loved anyone before,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “It scares how much I need you.”
I stroke her cheek, touched by her admission. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?” she asks, suddenly serious.
“I promise,” I say, aning it completely.
Morgan shifts against , her body molding to mine as she settles her head on my chest. We lie there in comfortable silence, the forgotten breakfast cooling on the counter, the magazine splayed on the floor where it fell. Her heartbeat synchronizes with mine, and I find myself absently stroking her hair, marveling at how right this feels.
“I love you,” she murmurs again, the words muffled against my shirt.
“I love you too,” I reply, feeling this new truth settle deep in my bones.
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