“Don’t look at me, Morgan said it.”
Dog picked up his bone and carried it into the bedroom.
“I think you insulted him.” I read off a few more ingredients. “You know, this stuff sounds pretty tasty.”
Morgan wandered over and picked up one of the envelopes. He opened it and took out two cards on lanyards.
One read Morgan’s service dog and had my cell phone number printed on it. The other had Morgan’s first name, then if in distress call with my name and my cell.
I didn’t know what to say.
I know the woman meant well. But Morgan wasn’t a child.
Yet, if for some reason, I wasn’t around when he overloaded, he might not be able to communicate who to call, and this could keep him from being tackled by a guard.
Morgan flipped the badges over in his hands.
“We should get a card made to put in my wallet and one in the truck.” He waved the lanyard with his name on it. “This is a good idea. You should have thought of it, Grant. You’re relatively smart.”
I narrowed a look at Morgan, and he flashed me a smile before returning to examine the cards.
“Not sure if Dog should wear this.” He held up the one labeled service dog.
“Why not?”
“He’s not a service animal.”
“I don’t know, Morgan. He looked like one to me today.”
“But he’s not. At least officially. And if he wore it, it would be a lie.”
“What constitutes a service dog?”
Morgan tossed thoughts. “It would be a dog trained to assist someone, but I’m pretty sure getting beer out of the fridge doesn’t qualify.”
He did get beer out of the fridge. Occasionally he actually brought it to you rather than drinking it himself.
“And you don’t think he helped you today?” Because I did.
Morgan rubbed the laminated cards between his fingers. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Then we’ll see what we have to do to get him covered. But Mrs. Doreen seemed to think he qualified, so can he wear it here at least?”
He laid both badges on the coffee table and walked over. I lowered the bag of dog food and let it fall to the ground by my foot.
Morgan stopped in front of me, close enough for the heat of his body to push against my skin. “You’re not ashamed of me.”
I didn’t know if it was a statement or a question.
But either way, I knew the answer. “Never.”
Morgan traced the shape of the charm on the necklace he’d given me. “Is it okay if we eat lunch in the room?”
“Pretty sure it’s well past lunch, but yeah. We can eat here.”
Closer. I had to wrap my arms around him. His tawny frame melded to my body.
“I love you, Grant.”
I kissed him on the temple. “I love you too.”
“Then you’ll give me a back rub.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I’ll give you a back rub.”
“What about my feet?”
“Sure.”
“Blow job?”
“I’m pretty sure I can arrange that.”
“In the shower?”
“Better than that, how about the Jacuzzi?”
Morgan tipped his head up at me. “That’s a terrible idea, Grant.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d drown.”
I made a face and Morgan laughed. “Do you want to order the food while I run the water? Or me run the water while you order the food?”
I squinted at Morgan. “That’s the same thing.”
“Well, that settles it, doesn’t it?” He turned, and I yanked him back around. Our mouths met, and he pulled himself higher until he had one leg wrapped around mine and his arms over my shoulders. Morgan inched his way up until I had to lift my chin to keep contact. His right flip-flop hit the floor, then the left one.
Morgan broke the kiss and I groaned.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Kessler-Kade?” Morgan teased the nape of my neck with his fingertips, which was nothing short of a current right to my dick. “You sound uncomfortable.” I knew damn well he felt the bulge in my jeans.
“The problem isn’t what’s wrong, it’s what’s right.” I nipped his chin. There was just enough stubble to tickle my lips.
“And what’s that?”
“You, and everything about you.”
“So—” He nipped the tip of my nose. “—you going to order the food, and I run the water?”
“Sure.” I would have been willing to go track it down, kill it, and bring it back. You know, total caveman.
But I’d be the one getting dragged by the head of hair.
Morgan dropped to the ground and gave my cock a squeeze before sauntering off toward the bedroom.
I used the courtesy phone to call room service. While I waited on hold, I scanned the menu. There were the standard hamburger, fries, chicken fingers, but I really wanted to do something special. I order filet mignon, lobster, shrimp, oysters, crab legs, a couple slices of cake and a bottle of wine.
They told me it would be there in an hour.
I hung up and the rush of water echoed from the bathroom.
An hour.
A lot could be done in an hour. I stripped off my shirt, shoes, and jeans on my way to the bathroom.
Chapter Seven
Water churned in the massive tub cradled by a raised area of off-white tile, speckled with gold. Steps led up to the outside ledge, and more lowered you into the steaming liquid.
Morgan’s clothes lay scattered across the bathroom floor, tracking his movements around the room. He stood over by the double sink. Thick towels hung from the O-rings on the wall, washcloths and specialty soaps occupied the counter between them.
Not the cheap kind found in budget hotels, but actual boutique brands decorated with the hotel logo.
Morgan touched each item, stopping to shuffle the bottles into groups of similar colors before moving over to the sink and turning the water on and off.
He touched the brushed silver faucets. Tapped on the spokes on the spigots, peered down the drain. Then he moved to the second sink on the other end and repeated the process.
“I’ve seen pictures of bathrooms like this in magazines at the library.” He went to the light switch and flipped it on, off, on again.
The track lighting leached away the warmth from the overhead fixture and splintered against the beveled edge of the mirror.
Morgan ran a finger down the fold in the glass. “Why would anyone need a bathroom this big? I mean, even in a big house, why?”
“Motels do it as a perk.”
“A perk is what you get when you cash in your shopping points at the Frugal Mark.” He smiled at me in the mirror. “Or the extras that come with marrying me.”
“Yep, definitely lots of perks for marrying you.” I dragged a look over Morgan from head to toe, pausing on that ten-miles-each-way-to-work sculpted ass of his. His thighs were equally impressive. But damn, I never got tired of staring at his backside.
“So why do you think people put bathrooms like this in their house?” Morgan gave me his profile, a soft smile pulled at his lips, but with his head tipped, his bangs hid his eyes. “There has to be a reason.” He turned the rest of the way around and leaned back against the counter—shadows filled in the dips and curves of his shoulders, his lean arms, and chest. Light highlighted the sinewy muscle under sun-browned skin. The few dark hairs running down his sternum darkened into a trail, passing over his navel to gather at the junction of his hips, cradling his cock.