“I’m looking for Jack.” Morgan couldn’t think of anything else to say.
A small smile tilted the other woman’s red lips before she turned and yelled, “Jack! You’ve got a visitor!”
Jack’s brows drew together in a frown as he set the flogger down and switched his attention from the sub chained in front of him to the front of the room where Maggie had called for him. Since his lodge was booked this weekend with a private group of BDSM players and since they’d all arrived, he wasn’t expecting anyone else. Still, the hunched, bedraggled figure standing in the doorway looked a little familiar.
Reaching up, he unclipped Sandy’s arms from the dangling chain and clasped her shaking, sweat-slick naked body. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I need to see to something. Go to the bar and wait for me there.”
“Yes, Master Jack.” Sandy looked up at him with adoring eyes before moving off toward the bar that ran the length of the side wall.
Frustrated at the untimely interruption and wondering why someone would be so foolish as to be out in this storm, he headed toward his uninvited guest. As he neared the doors, however, his frustration quickly turned to surprise followed swiftly by anger.
“Morgan?” Disbelief and irritation colored his tone as he recognized the curly sable hair and topaz eyes staring at him in relief.
“Jack! Thank God.”
As her eyes filled with tears, he reached out and enfolded her shivering, damp form. “Thank you, Maggie. I’ll take care of this. Could you ask Marc to cover for me?”
“Sure, no problem.”
As Maggie led her sub away, Jack ushered his unexpected and unwanted guest back into the lobby, shutting the doors to the playroom behind him. “Morgan, what the hell are you doing here and why are you so wet? You’re going to catch your death.”
“Jack, I’ve been trying to call you all day. Why haven’t you answered or called me back? You always call me back.” Her voice broke on the accusation, her brain still trying to play catch-up with what she’d seen going on in that big room, including finally spotting Jack standing behind a bound, naked woman, a flogger in his hand. That the woman was on the verge of climax had been obvious even from across the room.
“Don’t take that tone with me, princess. We’ve been swamped today with the arrival of this private party as well as the snowstorm. I haven’t had time to check my messages. Come on.” Grabbing her hand, he dragged her to the wide staircase and pulled her up behind him as they moved to the second story. “You need to get out of those wet clothes before we finish this conversation. How’d you get so wet anyway? What’d you do, walk here?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, right after my car ended up wedged against a tree and stuck in the snow.”
Jack stopped abruptly and turned to stare down at her in astonishment and growing anger. “Are you fucking telling me you were out in this storm dressed like that? Did you leave your common sense back in Chicago?”
“Jack Sinclair, don’t you yell at me! I’ve had an awful couple of days and went through hell to get here.”
As always, the sight of her golden eyes filling with tears was enough to cool his temper. The minx has been wrapping him around her finger since she was seven years old and it had taken all of his considerable self-control not to let her know that. “Come on,” he stated gruffly, tugging on her cold hand again. “Let’s get you warm and settled and you can tell me what this latest fiasco of yours is all about.”
Morgan let Jack haul her the rest of the way upstairs, with fatigue, hunger, and chills making it easy to let him take over. Instead of a hallway housing separate rooms, she stepped into a spacious, open loft overlooking the lobby below. A huge fireplace bracketed by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves took up one wall. Arranged in a semicircle facing the fireplace and entertainment center, large cream-colored leather sofas stood out against the dark hardwood floors. The vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows taking up the adjoining wall made the room look even bigger. A long granite-topped eating bar was the only thing dividing the living room from the kitchen. A gourmet chef would drool over the stainless steel appliances, matching dark blue granite counters and copper pots and pans hanging over the island.
“You live up here?” Morgan asked, loving the look of the place.
“Marc and I do. Come on. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
Morgan giggled and couldn’t resist needling him. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for years.”
Jack spun around, pinning her against the wall, his dark eyes glaring down at her. “Don’t push me, brat. I’m sorely tempted to give you a spanking. And trust me, you won’t enjoy it nearly as much as my date did when you had your nose poked where it didn’t belong.”
Morgan’s heart sped up and her pussy dampened with immediate lust. If he kept tantalizing her with hints of his taste in kinky passions, she wouldn’t need a hot bath to warm her up. All she’d need was him. “Are you sure I wouldn’t enjoy it?”
Jack clenched his jaw, struggling to get himself under control. The damn minx had no idea what she was pushing for and he refused to risk ruining their relationship by giving in to her. Morgan had always been a spoiled little kid acting out to get attention. When her parents, damn their sorry asses, didn’t comply, she had turned her efforts on him. Feeling sorry for the lonely little girl with the haunting topaz eyes, he had taken her under his wing. Having two wonderful, caring, and doting parents, he could never understand why the Tomlinsons refused to show their only child any affection. He would have much preferred growing up in a loving home with little money or amenities to the cold mansion and even colder mother and father Morgan had to endure. All the things their money could buy her weren’t worth her neglectful upbringing. If it hadn’t been for Agatha, the Tomlinsons’ cook, and himself, Morgan wouldn’t have had any loving adult influence.
It wasn’t until five years ago, when he had surprised her by showing up for her college graduation, he realized she was no longer a child, and the feelings that had started to change the summer of her eighteenth birthday from fondness to lust, had not lessened any with separation and time. Given his lifestyle, and not willing to risk hurting her or losing her, he has been keeping her at arm’s length ever since.
Now, looking down into her mischievous face and hearing her tease him, he knew he was in real trouble. Because, like it or not, she would be stuck here for the next few days and he knew the hard-on he was trying to ignore had nothing to do with the light flogging and anticipated fuck he had planned with Sandy.
“Dammit, Morgan, you’ve made me forget my obligations,” he growled, just now remembering ordering Sandy to sit naked at the bar like a good little sub and wait for him to return. “Come on.”
Jack pulled her into his room, but gave her no time to look around as he continued across the plush maroon carpet into the bathroom. “Strip,” he ordered, dropping her hand and turning to start filling the large Jacuzzi bathtub.
“Huh?” All flirting and teasing aside, Morgan knew she couldn’t just drop her sodden clothes in front of him, no matter how badly she wanted to get warm.
Steam billowed up from the faucets as Jack turned and placed his hands on his hips to glare at her. “I said, strip. Now’s not the time for modesty. You’ll be lucky if you don’t wake up with pneumonia tomorrow. I have to check on someone downstairs. Unless you need help, I’ll be back in a minute.” Turning, he stormed out of the bathroom.