Cal covered her body with his, took her mouth, and finalized the deal.

chapter fifteen

Morgan walked into a house that was beginning to resemble a real home. For the past few weeks, progress had raced forward with few disruptions. Dalton created a miracle by soothing the inspector’s daughter and didn’t even have to promise her a ring. Liquid insulation and drywall were done, and exterior finishes were almost complete. The mix of brick and stone gave the house a luxurious feel, using an almost crisscross effect to impress onlookers.

Her low heels echoed in the silence as she took in the sweeping archways, circular staircase, and open hallway floating over the main living area. Once again she gave Brady props for seeing something no one else could. He had a vision she’d love to work with again on other projects. She made her way upstairs, stepping around power tools, varnish tables, and a mess of equipment. Cal liked a clean site at the end of the day, but since they were pulling a long weekend to work on trim and cabinetry, he’d allowed the crew to be a bit more casual, especially since the actual owners weren’t here.

Morgan floated through each room, relishing the quiet while the sun slowly sank. Usually she thrived in chaos, from the loud music, hammering, mingling voices, and endless array of strangers in and out on a daily basis. But now was when the magic began. Her gaze swept over the empty space, picturing design and moldings, furnishings and layout. Each room told its own story, depending on the patron or the guest. She’d never failed before. She didn’t intend to start now.

A prickle of worry poked at her. Between the Barn and Cal’s secret shed of treasures, she’d been working with Dalton to finish some items and pick out her centerpieces. Morgan stepped into the master bedroom. This would be her masterpiece. She’d scored a vintage brass headboard for the king-size bed, seeing the Rosenthal’s private oasis as a luxurious intimate space. With the blackberry back walls, lace curtains, vintage French furniture, and velvet fainting couch in the coolest of silvers already in place, Morgan intended to interweave shades of violet with silver and give the room a pampered feel with just a touch of masculinity to keep it from being too girly.

High ceilings screamed for a chandelier dripping with crystals. The doors leading out to the private rooftop balcony would slide rather than open like French doors, allowing only a whisper of sound and shadowed silk screens. She peeked into the bath, which would have a fireplace, remote controls, and a spa shower, but her crown jewel was the claw-foot tub perched high on a pedestal of rose quartz, along with the green lamp Cal still hated.

At first, she’d been set on keeping a more modern feel. The Hollywood couple liked their toys and conveniences, but the bedroom could be their own oasis, so she’d gone for old-style glamour. The Pinterest board and multiple texts from Petra showed a more edgy feel, with sleek metals, blacks, reds, whites, and staggering art sculptures to rival Michelangelo’s. Worry nagged at her belly from her client’s sudden taste turn. This was the first time her gut instincts warred with the Rosenthals’ wants and needs, but Cal kept telling her to trust her skills.

Morgan stilled. Just his name spilling through her mind caused her body to light up, readying her for his touch. His kiss. His smart-ass remarks and his intriguing possessiveness and the way he never allowed her to hide either her body or her mind from him. He was a demanding lover, yet instead of pulling away and craving distance, she was doing the opposite.

Getting closer. Falling harder. Losing more of herself.

She shivered in the blistering heat. It didn’t have to be complicated. In fact, Cal had made it easy for her. They averaged four nights per week together, and he treated her no differently at work. Of course, the moment she arrived at his place he ravished her completely, allowing her to dress only so they could share dinner. Occasionally Tristan and Dalton stopped in for a quick bite, and Morgan enjoyed their clever banter, finding herself drawn to the pull of a sibling bond they still struggled with. It was obvious they loved each other, but the iron-fisted way Cal ran Pierce Brothers was tearing them apart. Morgan squirmed but tried to be neutral, holding back from explaining to Cal how he was alienating them.

A smile curved her lips. It was wonderful to be able to share her workday and passion for building with him. Her initial fears that they wouldn’t be able to have both drifted away in the heat of his arms and the joy of his presence. But each day was like a ticking time bomb, moving her closer to the only ending they had.

When the job was completed, she would leave. And she’d never see him again.

Morgan laid her hand flat on her belly. Raw longing licked at her nerve endings. For the first time in her life, she was beginning to want more. But she didn’t want to think of the future or what would happen right now. She intended to take every second with Caleb Pierce and wring it dry. Instead of holding back, Morgan decided to surrender to the relationship and see where it led them both. Her cards had been dealt, and it was up to her how she played them.

With a deep breath, Morgan finished her walk-through, taking in the energy of the house and its future occupants, making mental notes of finishes and details that would create a stunning debut and keep her at the top of her game.

Then she went home to Cal.

“We’re going out.”

He didn’t let her respond, pulling her hard into his embrace and kissing her senseless. The dogs whined, waiting for their turn, but they already knew their master had first dibs. The spicy, masculine scent of him always had her ready for him. How had she become such a slut? In a good way. A delicious, naughty way. He made her hot and ready with just a blistering look. Or a dirty command. He refused to let her hide from her sexuality, and for the first time in her life, Morgan reveled in her feminine power, in her curves and her ability to bring this powerful man to his knees just by taking off her clothes.

He eased away, nipped at her bottom lip, then licked away the sting. She tried to remember what he said. “What?”

He gave her a smug grin. “We’re going out. How about My Place?”

She shuddered with the memory of her call girl arrest. “No, thanks. I’m happy never to go there again.”

“Understood. Let’s do Italian. We’ll hit Cena. Sound good?”

“Pasta sounds heavenly.” She broke from his embrace and knelt down. “Come get me, guys!”