Page 38 of The Mourning Throne
But he’d never leave Morgan in them alone.
Chapter 7
Invading Morgan’s showers was easily Lex’s favorite morning ritual.
He’d neverget inthe shower at the same time as Morgan.
No.
That wouldn’t have been as fun.
Instead, he waited five or ten minutes—depending on the day and his mood—before making his move. Just enough time for Morgan to get comfortable. To think there’d be peace.
Ollie was still asleep in the locked second bedroom—or pretending, like he had the last million times Lex checked—and the quiet was kind of cathartic.
It stopped the loud buzzing in his head for a while, anyway.
Lex jerked open the frosted shower door without warning.
Not quite as dramatic as ripping back the curtain at home, but—Morgan’s face?Priceless.
“You’re getting the floor wet,” Morgan grumbled, half-asleep and bleary eyed. Water dripped from his lashes, carved lines down his neck. “In or out.”
Every morning. Same conversation. Same delivery.
“In,” Lex said, already grinning. He stepped over the lip of the shower like he didn’t do thisjustto see how long Morgan would tolerate it before fucking snapping.
Morgan reached for the shampoo, his other hand settling at the small of Lex’s back. “I heard you up and down all night.”
“Too hyper to sleep. Ended up spending time with Ollie.”
Morgan hummed.
Lex crowded in close, chest pressed to Morgan’s back. Breathing him in before the soap and cologne could cover it all up. Simply Morgan—wet skin, steady heat, and that scent Lex would always tie to sharp hands and silk sheets.
Morgan didn’t move at first. He stood still beneath the water, steam curling around both of them. Then—grudgingly, almost imperceptibly—he leaned back just enough. Grabbed Lex’s arm and wrapped it around his waist.
Victory.
Water ran hot and steady between them. Lex pressed a kiss to the back of Morgan’s shoulder. Not demanding. Not greedy. Just there.
Not like last night.
Not like Ollie—shaking in the other tub, skin flushed and wet and crying so hard it steamed the mirror.
That wasn’t greedy either. Just desperate.
Different kinds of wet.
Different kinds of want.
Lex kissed between Morgan’s shoulder blades. Bit at the base of his neck. Laid his cheek against the back of Morgan’s head like it was made for him.
Morgan didn’t tell him to stop.
They stood like that for a while. Quiet. Breathing. Letting the water cool. It slipped in streams over Morgan’s shoulder, down his chest, and Lex counted every drop like it meant something.
Eventually, Morgan reached back and tangled his fingers in Lex’s wet hair. Tugged—hard enough that it almost hurt. Morgan turned enough to kiss him, water dripping off both their chins. It wasn’t a kiss that led anywhere. It wasn’t supposed to.
