Her Private Avenger. Elle Kennedy

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      Chapter 2

      Oh, lord, it felt good having her in his arms again. Heat coursed through Quinn’s body, his pulse speeding up at the feel of Morgan’s warm body against his, her soft hands clinging to his shoulders. Before he could stop himself, he inhaled the scent of her, the aroma of lavender he remembered far too well.

      “Thank God you’re here,” she whispered, her breath tickling his neck.

      It was the sound of her voice that snapped him out of the insanity. His body went stiff. Hands dropped from her waist. He took a step back, but waves of heat continued pulsing through his blood.

      Quinn quelled the traitorous response and focused on Morgan’s face. On those gorgeous eyes flickering with relief.

      He wished she didn’t look so good, but he hadn’t expected anything less. Morgan had always been drop-dead gorgeous. Even now, looking a tad thin and more than a little pale, her beauty made his breath hitch. Her honey-blond hair was tied back in a ponytail that made her appear much younger than her twenty-eight years. She wore baggy jeans and a shapeless knit sweater, but Quinn knew underneath the clothing lay an endless supply of curves. The memory of her soft, womanly form was enough to send his pulse racing again, a reaction he neither appreciated nor welcomed.

      “Are you okay?” he asked roughly, meeting her gaze.

      “No.” She emphasized the word by slowly shaking her head.

      Obviously she was still honest to a fault, and her candid reply brought a reluctant smile to his lips. “I heard about the accident.”

      A flash of anger lit her eyes. “From my father?”

      Quinn nodded.

      Her lips tightened. “Let me guess. He’s outside in the car, waiting for you to bring me out so the two of you could take me back to the hospital. Where I won’t be able to harm myself.”

      Hurt and sarcasm dripped from each word. He saw that same hurt flickering on her face, and in that instant Quinn knew he’d been right. No way had Morgan tried to kill herself. He didn’t give a damn what the senator thought. As usual, the man was dead wrong.

      “Your father isn’t outside. I came alone.”

      Morgan went silent for a moment, and then she shot him a shrewd look. “But he asked you to come.”

      “Yes.”

      She rolled her eyes as she drifted over to the couch and sank onto the cushions. “I wish I’d been there to hear him beg you to help.”

      He couldn’t help a chuckle. “It was definitely a Kodak moment.”

      Morgan laughed softly. “I’ll bet.”

      Okay. So this was easier than he thought it would be. They were talking, laughing, no awkward silences, no uncomfor—Oh, for Pete’s sake, who was he kidding? This was difficult as hell, seeing Morgan after two years apart.

      Stifling a sigh, he joined her on the sofa, sitting at the other end, and clasped his hands loosely on his lap. “Tell me about the accident,” he finally said.

      She raised one delicate eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you rather we talk about the enormous pink elephant in the room first?”

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      “We haven’t seen each other in two years, Quinn.” Pain swarmed her eyes. “And the last time we were together, you told me to get out of your life and stay out.”

      He tried not to cringe. Damn, when she said it out loud, it sounded harsher than he remembered. But he’d been hurting like hell when he’d said those words.

      “I probably could’ve been more diplomatic about it,” he admitted ruefully.

      She swallowed. “No. I deserved it.”

      As she’d always done when she was nervous or upset, Morgan nibbled on her bottom lip with her straight white teeth. Last time he’d seen her do it, she was telling him she wanted to postpone their wedding.

      “So—” Morgan cleared her throat “—you’ve been neglecting this old place.” She gestured around the cabin, the change of subject an obvious indication that she’d decided to go back to ignoring the pink elephant.

      “I’ve been out of the country,” he answered with a shrug.

      He tried not to follow the sweep of her hands, not eager to focus too hard on his surroundings. This cabin had been their sanctuary, the place they’d gone to make love, where Morgan could avoid the scrutiny that came with being a senator’s daughter.

      In fact, it had been right here, on this couch, that Morgan first told him she loved him. He’d said it back, no hesitation—God, how he’d loved her—and proceeded to make passionate love to her. All night long.

      The memory caused his gut to tighten. Damn it, he wasn’t allowed to think about those days. He had no business remembering how it felt to kiss her, or make love to her. Or the sleepy smiles she used to give him when she woke up in his arms. Or СКАЧАТЬ