“Kiss me then show me where the bathroom is.”
“Or what?” she asks, and I smirk at that, and her eyes drop to my mouth again before flaring. “Fine, but only because I want to,” she grumbles, kissing me briefly then pulling away.
Letting her go, I can see the confusion in her eyes, but I ignore it and move to sit on the side of the bed then stand, letting the sheet drop from my waist. Hiding my smile, I tilt my head to the side and prompt, “You see my boxers, baby?”
“Boxers?” she asks, licking her lips.
“My eyes are up here, Mags.”
“Your eyes,” she murmurs, and I laugh, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her stumbling into me.
“House is awake, baby. Everyone’s up. I’m sure they’re waiting for you and me to get downstairs, so as much as I’d like to bend you over the bed and fuck you, I can’t—not right now anyway. When we get back home, that’s a different story.”
“Right,” she whispers, dropping her forehead to my chest. “Dad and Mom want to go with me to drop off Morgan.”
“Good, I’ll drive,” I tell her on a squeeze.
“I’ll drive,” she mutters into my skin.
“Only two people can fit in your car, baby. We’ll leave your car here and pick it up when we drop your parents home.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” I smile then kiss the top of her head. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Okay,” She shrugs then rubs her hands down her face. “I just want this part over with.”
“You’re doing everything you can, but in the end, it’s gonna be her choice if she gets better or not, and nothing you do will change that.”
“I know you’re right,” she whispers dropping her eyes from mine.
Using my fingers under her chin, I pull up. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” I agree, knowing she will be. “Show me the shower and I’ll meet you downstairs when I’m done.”
“Okay,” she agrees, leaning up on her tiptoes and kissing my jaw before walking to the bed, nabbing my boxers from the mass of blankets, and tossing them at me. Grabbing her coffee from the side table, she opens the door to the room once I have my boxers on then heads down the hall and pushes open the door for the bathroom. Following her inside, I watch her grab a towel from the closet then a bar of some kind of soap from one of the shelves. “I’ll be downstairs.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Nodding, she runs her hand across my abs then disappears, closing the door behind her.
Once I’m showered, I head back to the room and open the door, surprised when I find Morgan sitting on the bed with her hands in her lap and her head bowed toward them.
“Morgan?” I question, and she jumps briefly then her eyes run up my chest and lock on mine. “Why are you in here?” I ask, trying to keep the annoyance I’m feeling out of my tone, and her eyes drop to her lap again as she speaks.
“I…I wanted to talk to you about Maggie.” Leaving the door open, I go to my pants and step into them then shrug on my shirt, waiting for her to say whatever the fuck it is she came to say.
“Talk,” I bark, and she jumps. “You were waiting in this room when I got out of the shower, Morgan, while your sister’s downstairs. I gotta say I’m a little pissed.”
“A little pissed?” she mutters like ‘Yeah, right.’
“Morgan,” I say, losing patience.
“Why are you with my sister?” she asks, looking up at me.
My fingers still on the buttons of my shirt and my eyes narrow. “Pardon?”
“It took me awhile to figure it out, but I know you,” she whispers the last part, and my nostrils flare. “Maggie wouldn’t know you, because she doesn’t go out much anymore, but I know you. Women talk, and they talk about you a lot.” She drags out the last word, taking me from pissed to furious. It also has nausea turning in my stomach, because she’s right.
“Not that I need to justify my relationship with Maggie to you, but I’m in love with her, have been for a long fucking time, and there hasn’t been anyone since the moment I met her,” I growl.
“Morgan?” Maggie calls, stepping into the room. “What are you doing in here?” she questions, looking between her sister and me.
“Just talking to Sven,” she answers while standing up from the bed and running her hands down the front of her shorts.
“I heard you,” Maggie tells her quietly, and Morgan looks at me before looking at her sister again, shaking her head.
“He’s a… You have no idea the kinds of stories I’ve heard about him,” Morgan tells her, and I feel myself still.
“You’re a druggie, Morgan,” Maggie whispers, and Morgan pales then whispers back, “That’s not fair.”
“It’s not? And why’s that?” Maggie asks, taking a step toward me, reaching back and placing her hand in mine.
“I’m going to get help,” she says, dropping her hands to her sides, standing taller as her hands form fist.
“So you’re going to change?” Maggie asks, studying her.
“Yes,” she states vehemently, and I see it then in her eyes, the will to get clean, the reason Maggie’s put herself on the line time and time again to help her.
“That’s good, Morgan.” Maggie nods taking another step back toward me. “But I hope you remember this moment. I hope that one day, when someone is judging your character by your past, you remember this moment,” she whispers, turning to face me, missing Morgan’s flinch as she does.
Placing her hands against my abs, her head tilts back, and I rest my hand around the side of her neck and dip my face closer to her. “Mom made breakfast, and she made a lot of it. Come eat.”
“Is it tofu?” I ask with a fake grimace.
Smiling, her hands move up my chest and she answers with a quiet, “Yep.”
“Great,” I lie, leaning in, placing a kiss on her forehead, and then standing, and my eyes meet Morgan’s, who is looking between the two of us with an almost startled look on her face before ducking out of the room without another word.
“I’m sorry about that,” Maggie says, bringing my attention back to her.
“Don’t be. She was coming from a place of concern for you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still peeved at her for doing that,” she grumbles.
“Peeved, huh?” I ask with a smile, and she smacks my chest, rolling her eyes. Kissing her forehead once more, I grab my shoes and take a seat on the side of the bed, putting both on before letting her lead me downstairs to the kitchen, where her mom has made a breakfast for fifty instead of five, and it’s all piled in the middle of a small round table. Taking a seat next to Maggie, I lean over and whisper, “Where’s the tofu?” making her laugh and lean into my side.
“What’s funny?” her dad asks, placing a stack of what looks like whole wheat pancakes on his plate.
“Sven isn’t a fan of tofu,” Maggie tells him, smiling.
“Really?” he asks, looking at me.