Page 68 of Decoding Morse

“I’m not waking her up.” Morse’s deep voice came from just outside the door. “She had a shit day yesterday, and she needs her sleep. If you can’t feed us after seven fifteen, that’s no big deal. I’m sure we can scrounge up some breakfast. Also, I think that’s bullshit.”

“Noted,” Thelma said. She also thought that rule was bullshit because she used to sneak me food. “I’ll inform Mrs. Hutchensen that you will make arrangements for your own breakfast. She won’t be happy.”

“She’ll survive,” Morse replied without even a hint of compassion.

Also, I was a forty-three-year-old woman. Hearing him stand up to my parents shouldn’t be hot. But my God, was it ever. Probably because people rarely did. When it came to Mom, I’d learned to fight only the battles worth dying for. Nothing else was worth it. Including sleep, which was why I threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed.

The door swung open, bathing Morse in the light of his righteous indignation as he entered, if his expression was any indication. I snatched a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around me like he hadn’t seen all my excessive goodies last night.

He saw me and quickly closed the door, plunging us into darkness for a second before flipping on the light. “Damn, you’re up. I was hoping you could catch a little more rest.”

His hair was wet, and he smelled of body wash. He wore worn blue jeans and a faded black T-shirt featuring a sasquatch holding up two fingers in a peace sign. My parents would absolutely hate it. For some reason, that made me want to ride him again.

“Yep.” I started backing toward the door before I did something I’d regret. Thelma had been sent to collect us, which meant we were already late. “I’m starving. Gotta hurry if we’re gonna make breakfast.”

Finally close enough to grab the doorknob, I dashed into the bathroom. I still had the blanket wrapped around me, so I wadded it up and put it on the countertop to deal with later because I didn’t have time now. With a look in the mirror, I saw that this mess would take some time to make presentable. Going to bed with wet hair was never a good idea. I looked like a freaking troll doll.

I raised my voice and asked, “Have you heard from Jed?”

“Yes,” Morse yelled back. “Thirteen minutes ago, he sent me a picture of her in the cafeteria. If you come out, I’ll show it to you.”

“No time.”

Morse’s reply was undecipherable as I stepped into the shower. Memories of everything we’d done in here last night came flooding back and my cheeks felt like they would burst into flames.

Yeah, we’d really done that. All of it. The man had stamina for days.

But what now?

Would he want a relationship?

Did I?

Why the hell am I even thinking about this? Don’t I have enough on my mind?

Wishing I had possessed the self-restraint to talk to him last night so we could define the nature of our relationship, I quickly showered and dried off. Towel secured to cover all my X-rated bits, I grabbed a couple of new toothbrushes from the stash beneath the sink.

When I opened the door, he was right there waiting, his brow furrowing with concern. He searched my face like it was a minefield he was trying to navigate. His concern was sweet.

I didn’t want him to worry, so I smiled and let my gaze drift down his body appreciatively.

His eyes darkened. “We can always go back to bed.”

“Unfortunately, no, we can’t.” I waved a toothbrush at him before handing it over.

He ripped into the package and followed me to the sinks. Side by side, we brushed our teeth while stealing glances at one another in our mirrors. Last night, Morse had massaged every inch of my body, yet this somehow seemed more intimate.

Would he actually want to date me?

The bruising on my face distracted me with shades of mottled purple and green. Maybe that was what Morse kept checking out. I would love to cover up, but in my panic to put distance between me and Morgan, I’d left my makeup behind.

And my purse.

Morgan now had control of the one item that held all my identification, which meant I had a fifty percent chance of ever seeing it again. But I was trying not to freak out about that since there was absolutely nothing I could do.

“And Morgan’s still okay?”

“Yep. They’re on the tour.”

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