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  Her blue eyes were drowsy as she smiled. “You’re right. I wasn’t alone. I liked watching you forget yourself.” A blush climbed her cheeks. “It makes me want to lose myself even more next time.”

  Rixen fell on her with a groan, burying his face in her neck. “I’m not worthy of you.”

  After a few seconds, her fingers slipped into his hair and their bodies turned toward one another, legs twining together in a sleep pose. “I think you are, Rixen,” she murmured into a lazy tongue kiss. “I think you are.”

  He fell asleep with a thank you to his maker on his lips…no idea that tomorrow would bring yet another test.

  Chapter 5

  Morgan

  Swear to God, she’d meant to escape last night. Her last thought upon falling asleep was, as soon as he falls asleep, I’m blowing this surprisingly tasteful joint. And then she’d snuggled closer into the warm, protective embrace of Rixen, the alligator-wrestling man beast and dropped into the most complete unconscious state of her life. A meteor could have torn off the ceiling of the one-bedroom house and she would have yawned into her new, favorite chest hair pillow and gone back to sleepy town.

  Well wasn’t that just terrifying? Honestly, she’d believed herself to be a mentally tough individual, able to remain objective and maintain her eye on a goal. That was before all sorts of things had happened, though. Like sex. Not just sex, though. She didn’t even know how to begin describing what took place in Rixen’s massive four-poster bed.

  Morgan had been picturing her first sexual encounter for years. She usually got about halfway through a fantasy before the guy turned into some awkward, gangly spit machine. Or a jackhammering frat asshole. Somewhere along the line, she’d just decided to forgo the whole experience. After all, her friends were always complaining about sex being less than fulfilling. And in the midst of all that unfulfilling sex, they—for some inexplicable reason—decided to devote all their time and attention to the dude providing it. Morgan did not get it.

  Expectation versus reality was a crazy thing. Even after the greatest oral sex she could have imagined in her non-existent scope of experience, she’d still expected Rixen to hammer away at her privates until she started reciting the alphabet to distract herself. Yeah. But no. He’d fucked her into another level of existence, instead.

  Apparently, Morgan hadn’t been into dating all these years because she had a type. And that type was a big, hairy, possessive daddy. Unfortunately, Rixen was her kidnapper. She could not forget that. This little reprieve from real life could not last. She had college in the fall. A mother who was probably worried about her, despite their vast differences. Also, she couldn’t just ditch civilization for the bayou! For a man who thought she was an angel sent from on high.

  As soon as she got a chance, she would make her move.

  The moment the decision cemented itself in Morgan’s mind, she got an awful cramp in her belly. As if sensing her discomfort, Rixen shifted behind her in the bed, his face nuzzling into her hair. “You must be starved,” he rumbled, the deep resonance of his voice plucking harp strings inside of her. He scooted his huge furnace of a body close, rubbing his erection between the cheeks of her ass. Morgan opened her mouth with a silent moan. “I will feed you something small. We feast today so you’ll want to be hungry.”

  “Feast?”

  “Yes.” He trailed his open mouth along the curve of her shoulder. “I’m going to introduce you to my brothers and their wives. They live nearby and will cook for us. I sent them word last night that you’d arrived.”

  “You…were awake last night?” She felt herself turn red. “Was I drooling?”

  Rixen went up on an elbow. “Do you think there is a single thing you could do I wouldn’t find adorable, Morgan?”

  Running for the hills, probably.

  An awful twist took place in her stomach, but she smiled through it. “Only time will tell.”

  Beneath the covers, the fingers of his free hand lingered low on her belly. “My gift. If you weren’t sore, you’d be face down for your daddy right now.”

  Heat ripped through the tender muscles south of her belly button, making Morgan suck in a shaky breath. “You’re not supposed to say things like that with the lights on…are you?”

  “I’m not sure you’re supposed to call me Daddy. But I like it.” He ran a finger along the valley of her hip. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Although I haven’t called you that yet.”

  “You will.” Gently, he sank his teeth into the nape of her neck. “You’ll scream it.”

  Morgan was prepared to roll over and beg for more beast action, soreness be damned, but Rixen rose from the bed and dragged on a pair of ancient jeans, looking pretty smug as he strode from the room with an erection tenting his fly. “Rest now. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

  As Rixen sauntered from the room with the air of a man who’d just gotten hard-core laid, Morgan couldn’t help but smile at his back. The big fella’s confidence had tripled since last night. Words spoken in the darkness came back to her in a wave and her smile slipped. Why wouldn’t he be confident? She’d referred to herself as his mate. In the heat of the moment, she’d meant it, too. Even now, his possession lingered on her skin like a brand. But he wouldn’t really hold her to that, would he? Wasn’t it the general rule that words spoken at the height of passion didn’t roll over into the next day? Just like cell phone minutes.

  You’re an idiot. Of course he took you seriously.

  So now she didn’t merely have to escape a man who believed her to be his forever angel. She had to run away when he thought the feelings he already harbored for her were mutual. And they weren’t.

  Were they?

  “No,” Morgan stressed to herself and she scooted off the bed’s edge, turning in a haphazard circle looking for something to cover her nudity. Her clothes were in the bathroom, but she’d have to cross through the living room and kitchen space to get there. She felt sticky and in need of a shower—not sexy—so she grabbed a shirt out of Rixen’s bureau, laughing when it dropped down past her knees.

  On the way out of the room, she stopped to scan his bookshelf. The Modern Kama Sutra. The Art of Cunnilingus. What Her Body is Telling You. “Talk about being prepared,” she murmured, running a finger along the spines. “It definitely paid off.”

  What if another woman had gotten lost in this bayou before Morgan? Would she have received the benefits of What Her Body is Telling You? A spiky ball of jealousy refused to be swallowed as she stomped into the kitchen and threw herself into a kitchen chair.

  Rixen raised an eyebrow at her from the stove, his magnificent back muscles fighting for attention as he turned at the waist. “What’s troubling you, Morgan?”

  She crossed her arms, her scowl deepening when her stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead. Obviously she was hangry. That’s all this was. “Nothing. I’m not jealous.” Her face flamed. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

  He flipped off the flame on the stove and approached her, brows knitted together. “What makes you jealous?”

  Morgan studied her nails. “Your books. Were you just sitting here thinking of women all this time? All the ways you wanted to touch them?”

  “No, I thought of you. I thought of…” He seemed to be searching for an explanation. “Warmth. Hope. But there was no face for my dream until you arrived. Now yours is the only face I will ever see.” Before Morgan could process those words—or the fluttering they created inside her—Rixen plucked her from the chair, holding her against his chest. “I will burn the books. I will only study you from now on.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist, inhaling the intoxicating scent of soap and male from his neck. “But I won’t stop you.”

  His rusty laugh sent a smile breaking across her face. But soon his mirth turned into a low moan of need. “I can’t hold you like this much longer, my gift.” His hands dropped
to her backside and abused it with rough hands. “Not without filling your pussy with come.”

  Morgan’s core constricted so hard, she saw stars. “Do it. Please.”

  “No, we will be late to my brother’s house. And I need to be sure you’re not pleasing your daddy at the cost of your own pain.” Their mouths tangled in a damp, hungry kiss, Morgan reeling over the lust generated inside her by that title. Daddy. “Later I will have time to prepare you with my mouth and ease into your cunt so slow, you will not feel any pain when the beast comes out to play.”

  I want to play with him now. She almost screeched the words but forced herself to stay silent as Rixen let her slide slowly down his body, their sexes dragging over one another. His expression was one of regret as he stepped away and continued to prepare her breakfast. “You did not notice your present on the table?”

  Frowning, Morgan scanned the surface of the beautiful antique tabletop. And when her gaze landed on the Nikon FM10, her jaw dropped. “Wait. This is your camera?”

  He hesitated to answer while flipping the stove burner back on. “Possession is nine tenths of the law.”

  “Rixen.”

  “A tourist did not fare so well with the alligators,” he said on a sigh. “That was his camera. Now it’s yours.”

  Morgan pursed her lips. “I should be more conflicted about this.” She picked up the camera and turned it on, checking the settings. There was an unused roll of film inside and she immediately lifted the viewfinder to her eyes and…possibilities exploded in every corner of the room. Rixen. God, she could photograph him all day. From his granite face to his mammoth body to the gentleness in his eyes when he watched her sometimes. Like he was doing now. Breathless, she lowered the camera. “It’s a great camera. Mine is newer, but it’s lacking something. Character, maybe? You would feel the pictures writing themselves on the film with this camera.”

  Rixen’s expression was unreadable. “You love it. Taking pictures.”

  “Yeah. I do. I…”

  He set down a plate of eggs and butter-slathered toast in front of her. “You what?”

  Morgan bought herself some time to answer by biting into the bread—and oh my god. It was the most delicious bread she’d ever tasted. “Mmmm. Um.” She swallowed. “I do love photography. But I love the leisure of it. Does that make sense? I’m kind of dreading it becoming a job. Will I still love it if I’m forced or on a deadline? I don’t know.” She took another bite and fell back in her chair. “Did you make this bread yourself?”

  Rixen grunted an absent confirmation and sat down across from her, rubbing a thumb along his bottom lip. “It sounds like you weren’t looking forward too much to college.”

  “Weren’t? As in, past tense.” She stopped chewing and set the hunk of bread down. “That’s one way to remind me I’m being held against my will.”

  “Your legs wrapped around my hips of their own free will just a moment ago.” Morgan couldn’t respond. Not with his hot eyes tracking over her and leaving fire in their wake. “Tell me what you would do with your future. If the decision was yours alone.”

  Her entire life had been mapped out by overzealous parents. She’d never actually taken the time to prod her own aspirations without factoring in their wishes. “I…would travel. I would find a place and learn its secrets through the lens of my camera. And I’d just be on my own schedule. No one to impress. No time constraints.”

  This admission seemed to please Rixen. Greatly. A smile played around the corners of his powerful mouth as he stood and pushed the plate of bread closer to her. “It makes me happy to see you eat food I prepared. Please keep going.”

  Morgan watched Rixen move about the kitchen, his tight, thick butt muscles moving underneath the worn denim of his jeans. God, he really was extraordinary. The original man. Built to fight off dinosaurs and fend for his kin. Before she knew it, Morgan had picked up the camera and started taking snaps of him at the kitchen sink, his forearms flexing as he washed a pan. It took a few minutes for him to notice what she was doing. His double take was comical. He pressed a finger to his broad chest as if to say, who? Me?

  She sighed. “You really don’t realize how unique you are, do you?”

  His confused expression made her chest hurt. Words rose in Morgan’s throat. Reassurances of his appeal, despite his ferocious size. She also had a few names to call the women who’d been mean to him in town—wherever the hell this place’s version of “town” was. But before she could speak, she remembered how easily he’d nixed her college plans, as if they didn’t matter. As if the only thing that mattered now was being his live-in booty call.

  His gift.

  “Every subject is unique in its own way,” she said in a rush, lowering her camera.

  When he dropped his head in disappointment and went back to straightening the kitchen Morgan wished with all her might she could take it back.

  Chapter 6

  Rixen

  Rixen couldn’t stem the flow of pride in his chest as he guided Morgan through the bayou. Sure, no humans were around to witness them walking to his brother’s house, but every time she tucked into his side or gripped his hand, he wanted to pound his chest with satisfaction. Mine. It didn’t matter that she reacted out of fear to every rustle in the bushes or chirp in the trees, she was seeking comfort from him. And that was a start.

  Just a start, it seemed. Morgan might have let Rixen own her body in the dark last night, might have agreed to be his in her sweet, breathy voice, but she was back to being hesitant this morning. Could he blame her, though? He might have spent every day of his adult life waiting for Morgan, but she clearly hadn’t done the same for him. That was hard to accept when he needed her so fucking badly, but he would accept the challenge. There was no other option, because letting her go would be tantamount to death, now that he’d spent time in her presence, tasted her skin and mouth. Witnessed her spirit.

  He looked down at Morgan where she sidestepped a dead plant in her insubstantial sandals. Flip-flops, she called them. She needed boots. Pants. Protection from the elements. But he was too scared to leave and procure these much-needed items for her, fearing she would run. No, not fearing. Knowing. And if they traveled to town together, his courageous girl would tell everyone he was holding her against her will.

  He was, wasn’t he? He was keeping a woman prisoner, whether he was being nice to her or not. That reality weighed heavily as they neared his brother’s home, the smell of a wood fire reaching and filling his nose. What if Morgan never came around to the idea of remaining with him? Would he hold such a beautiful free spirit in the swamp forever?

  “What’s the frowny face about?” asked Morgan.

  Rixen forced his brow to smooth. “I was thinking you should be dressed in finer clothing,” he hedged, the lie singeing his tongue like acid. “The weather is unpredictable here and you’re clothed for the beach.”

  Morgan looked down at her jean shorts and tank top. He’d done his best to launder them, but after he’d ripped her bikini to shreds last night, her tits were free to bounce around at the neckline, her nipples all but visible through the sheer material. He couldn’t even think about her bare pussy inside the shorts without panting, his cock lifting and getting caught in the waistband of his jeans. Bringing his woman around other men without her body covered to his liking was going to prove extremely difficult, but he’d been left with little choice. His clothes draped around her like a nightgown and she’d only scoffed when he’d suggested it.

  “When we reach my brother’s house, I will ask if you can borrow some clothes. Just until I’m able to make a trip to town.”

  A tree rustled above and Morgan jumped, throwing herself into his side. “You had everything else ready. An extra toothbrush, scented lotion, your sexual expertise. Why no clothes?”

  Rixen’s face colored. “I thought you would arrive more prepared.”

  “Like maybe God would send me with a little suitcase full of essentials?”

&nbs
p; “You’re laughing at me.”

  “No.” She surprised Rixen by winking up at him. “You’ve been really sweet to me, as far as kidnappers go. You get a glowing report.”

  Was she flirting with him or being sarcastic? If only he’d studied books about female behavior, maybe he wouldn’t be so lost right now. He nodded to the camera around her neck. “Do you want to take some pictures, my gift?”

  “I’m dying to. This place is kind of scary, but…it’s eerily pretty.” She blew out a breath and let go of his hand to point into the distance. “See how those shafts of sunlight split apart the trees. I want to shoot it from, like, ninety angles. Different exposures.”

  Rixen’s earlier hope returned. When they sat at the kitchen table and she’d confided about her desire to learn a location’s secrets and photograph it, he’d started to glimpse possibilities. Yes, the swamp could be an intimidating place, but he knew from experience people could adapt. Rixen was born to this land, along with his brothers. But some came here to escape the demands of society, others were brought here—like his sisters-in-law. Once Morgan knew how to navigate the Everglades in a safe manner, she could learn to call it home. Even learn to be happy. With him. “Go. I would like to watch you work.”

  Excitement danced in her features. “Won’t we be late?”

  He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “You are most important, Morgan.”

  They stared at one another for a long moment and Rixen’s heart started to pound triple time, his intuition telling him Morgan was beginning to feel something for him. Why else would that pulse at the base of her neck be fluttering so fast, her eyes softer than usual as their bodies moved closer, closer beneath the trees. As if gravity wouldn’t allow for anything else. Before he could bend forward and kiss her exquisite mouth, though, she danced away and began taking pictures, her skin noticeably flushed.