“Now, tell me about Destin Jourdain,” Travis said, bringing the conversation back around to before they were interrupted by her friends.
Deciding to bring him into the loop, Morgan filled him in on what she and her team really were and the true reason they had come to New Orleans before she offered, “We could help each other. Jamie is the best at what she does. If there’s something about your sister in Rodolfo’s computer files, she’ll find it.”
The look of relief on his face was instantaneous, his eyes sparkling with hope. This time, he was the one to reach out and take her hand. “And I’ll help you with any leads I can pick up on the street about the killings.”
The warm weight of his palm was satisfying, and the realization finally struck that sitting before her was no human that could be easily damaged by her superior strength. Here was a male that she was incredibly attracted to, who knew what she was, and was most likely as strong or stronger than she. A hot flush of arousal suddenly left her breathless as mental images of what she had originally deemed an unreachable fantasy filled her head. She could have him. Licking her lips, she gazed upon the rugged handsomeness of his face and asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”
∞∞∞
The punch of his erection against his fly was immediate. His nostrils flared as he scented her arousal and he had to swallow back the low rumble of a growl before he ended up scaring the nearby patrons. Rising from his seat too fast in his eagerness, Travis bumped the table and succeeded in rattling their glasses and sloshing their drinks. If Morgan noticed his clumsiness, she didn’t comment, already out of her own seat and reaching once more for his hand to lead him out of the restaurant as he tossed more than enough money down on the table to cover their bill.
Should he take her to his place? Would she prefer a hotel? He certainly couldn’t go back to Rodolfo’s with her, he’d never be allowed inside. Morgan solved the problem with a breathless, “Your place?” followed by, “You drive.”
They were in his truck within moments and a shred of sanity invaded – or perhapsinsanity would be a better word considering the painful state of his arousal – and had him asking, “You and Kane? You guys aren’t –”
“No. Never. He’s part of my team and a good friend. That’s all.”
Breathing a sigh of relief that did nothing to alleviate the hot tension caused by the amazing woman next to him, Travis attempted to focus on the road before he mowed over some unsuspecting pedestrian in his preoccupation.
“That reminds me,” Morgan said, her tone losing the breathless quality of mere seconds before. “The first night I arrived, I saw you on Bourbon Street. You were with a woman and a little girl.”
Travis drew a complete blank for a second, and in his hesitation, Morgan continued, a slight bite to her tone. “The scene looked quite cozy, and I have to tell you, I’m not one to trespass.”
Glancing over, he saw that she had turned in her seat to look fully at him, her expression set, one sable brow lifted in expectation. “I’m not with anyone,” he assured her, still trying to recall who he had been speaking with when he’d first sensed the presence of a Born the other night. Luckily, some of the blood that had obviously left his brain on a southerly journey to his pants returned and he remembered. “Oh! You’re talking about Marie and her daughter. Marie’s husband, Billy is on the force with me.”
Morgan was quiet for a moment and a quick glance revealed that she looked deep in thought, a frown on her face. His erection deflated. Was she regretting her decision? Had she reconsidered? “I can take you back to your vehicle if you’ve changed your mind, or we can go somewhere else. Jackson Square, maybe? See some art?”
He wasn’t sure she’d even heard his question as she said in a distant voice, “I remember the women coming to confront my mother, accusing her of being a homewrecker and the way she would laugh in their faces, telling them that if they had any clue how to satisfy their men, their husbands wouldn’t have been sniffing around her.”
“That had to have been tough,” Travis said, frowning at the information, imagining the callousness of the woman Morgan had just described. “And your father?”
Waving her hand, she let out a little huff of air. “He didn’t care what his wife got up to as long as she didn’t pester him with her nonsense.”
That last bit was said in a gruff imitation of a masculine voice, leaving Travis with the impression that it was a phrase Morgan had heard her father say often. Feeling the need to console her, he reached for her hand and she didn’t push him away, but rather, gripped his fingers in response to his murmured, “I’m sorry.”
He’d heard plenty of stories about the Born. Their cold calculation and hunger for power, their cruelty, their inability to feel remorse, compassion, or love. Morgan Rhys had shown him that not all of them fit that mold, but how she had managed to escape her fate with parents like hers, he had no idea, which prompted the observation, “You are so different from what I know of the Born.”
Morgan nodded. “There are a few of us.” Shaking her head she released a humorless chuckle. “Oddballs, outcasts, and rejects that we are, we’re out there.”
Travis grinned. “I’ve always had a thing for oddballs.”
She returned his smile for a moment before she frowned and then turned a bit sheepish. “I killed the mood, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
Squeezing her fingers, his response was immediate and heartfelt, “Nothing to be sorry for. I like just talking with you and getting to know you better.”
His words must have pleased her, her cheeks pinkening slightly with pleasure before she glanced back through the windshield and frowned. “How far away do you live?”
Travis shrugged. “We passed it a while back but I didn’t want to presume.”
Morgan leaned closer to him, her warm breath caressing his ear as she whispered, “I want you.”
And just like that, his erection returned.
Chapter Twelve
Travis St. John’s apartment was above a shop that, according to the sign out front, sold crystals and charms, as well as offered tarot card readings. His space wasn’t overly large, but it was well-lit, tidy, and currently carried the scents of lemon cleaner, furniture polish, laundry soap, and just a hint of coffee. Morgan acknowledged all of this in the periphery of her brain as, upon entry, she grabbed her angelic cop by his shirt, pushed him up against the nearest wall, and sealed her lips to his. God, he tasted incredible, minty fresh from the gum he’d chewed in the truck before they’d arrived with just hints of an underlying smokiness she couldn’t quite identify.
His hands were busy, roaming over the plains of her back and then down to the waistband of her jeans, the tips of his fingers sliding underneath for just a moment before they resumed their upward trek. The strength in his hands felt wonderful and served to remind her that tonight wouldn’t be about restraint for either one of them. They could both be themselves without fear.
