The Naughty List Bundle - Kylie Adams [87]
He ignored that and sighed. “Malone, I care a lot about your sister. I wouldn’t want her upset.”
She could only stare at him. “You’re worried I’ll say something to Honey? What? Am I supposed to go tattle on you, is that it?”
Even in the dim light she could see the way he locked his jaw. “She wanted us to be friends.”
“Good God!” she exclaimed, and when he frowned she added, “All right, forget the disbelief. For your information, I happen to love my sister.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, and that includes disillusioning her about her new family.” She poked him in the chest, her frustration level going right out the window. Her entire life was presently in the toilet, and Morgan Hudson was worried about her discretion? Ha!
“As far as I’m concerned, Honey can think we got along like best pals. But until I can get out of here tomorrow morning, stay the hell away from me.”
She turned and stalked in, but at the door, she couldn’t resist looking back one last time at Morgan.
He stood there in the moonlight, head tilted toward the dark sky, eyes closed, jaw clenched. His big hands were knotted into fists on his hips. Misty felt herself shiver, even though the evening was oppressively hot.
She knew then that he was right. Tomorrow morning she would leave Buckhorn behind. Hopefully, she’d think of somewhere to stay in the meantime.
She’d spent all her savings fighting the criminal conviction, and lost. She was homeless, out of a job and with no prospects.
And that was the least of her problems.
IF MORGAN HADN’T been lying there awake, his body frustrated, his mind disturbed by sensual images, he might not have heard it. But he hadn’t slept a wink all night, too busy remembering the sweet taste of Misty, the way she’d felt pressed against him. Perfect. Willing. Hot. Though his head told him things had ended when they should, his imagination had insisted on conjuring up a different ending to the tale, and he’d been rock hard and hurting for more hours now than he cared to admit. It was like suffering the curse of wretched puberty all over again, and he had Misty Malone to thank for it.
The squeak came again, and Morgan recognized the sound as the porch swing that hung in the huge oak at the back of the house. Throwing off the sheet that covered him, he stalked naked to the open window and listened. His room was at one end of the house, opposite to Sawyer and Casey’s, with the entire living quarters in between so they all had privacy.
Morgan’s bedroom faced the lake, as did Sawyer’s. As did the porch swing.
Someone was out there and his gut instinct told him it was Misty. He felt it in his bones, by the way his heart beat faster, by the way his stomach knotted. Only Misty had ever had that intense effect on him, and he figured it was mostly because he had to deny himself. If she wasn’t related by marriage, if he could have spent a long, hot weekend with her, indulging all his cravings, he’d be able to get her out of his system.
But he couldn’t, and that was the only reason for his obsession. He was sure of it.
Morgan saw that the moon hadn’t completely set, even while dawn was struggling to break. He glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was barely five-thirty. What was she doing up so early, hanging around outside? Looking for more ways to torment him?
It took him a mere two seconds to decide to go see her. He knew all the reasons he shouldn’t, but something overrode them all, some basic need to spar with her one more time before the rest of the family would be there to pull him back.
He was still buttoning his favorite pair of worn, comfortable jeans, and wearing nothing else, when he stepped out of his room. At the last minute, he stopped, went back into his bedroom and then into his bathroom. He brushed his teeth, giving a disgusted glance at his morning beard and disheveled hair, then decided to hell with it and headed out. But when he passed the kitchen, he halted again and