Free Someone Like You (Someone To Love Series) by Addison Moore Page B

back at, slashing his masculinity to pieces and forcing him to bow to the master of underhanded comebacks. But he doesn’t say a word.
    “What’s the matter?” I nudge him playfully. “Dragon got your tongue? Is your resident dildo depressed as hell he can’t come out and play?”
    He ticks his head back, somewhat annoyed at my potshots at his nonvital organ.
    “Let me guess,” I tease. “You want me to kiss it and make it better?” God, I can’t even remember if I kissed it and made it better last night, and my cheeks burn with a fire all their own.
    “You got me.” He rises to his feet. “I’m all out of ammo. You win the first round, but I won’t be so kind tomorrow,” he says, heading into the hall.
    “Where are you going?” I’m quick to sprint in front of him and claim the room by hopping onto the mattress.
    It smells clean inside, no sign of an exploding suitcase with the aftermath splayed out in the four corners of the room. In fact, everything is laid out neatly and folded on top of the dresser.
    I lie back on the bed and prop myself on my elbows. A glint of silver catches my eye from the edge of the bed.
    Holy shit. There are bona fide chains hooked onto the bedpost.
    “I see you’ve unpacked the hardware.” I rattle it with my foot.
    “Not my equipment, baby.” It comes from him almost morose. “But if you feel the need to be bound and gagged, just say the word.” He bounces on the bed and groans as he throws his arm up over his eyes to block the light. “I’ll be happy to comply.”
    “Excuse me? I believe it’s me who’s sleeping here tonight.”
    “Good night, sweetie, try not to snore this time.”
    I open my mouth to protest and a brisk knocking sound emits from Kendall and Cruise’s bedroom—repetitive, endless knocking.
    Morgan pulls his arm back and looks over at me with wild disbelief as if to confirm his headboard-banging theory.
    A series of hearty moans comes from the next room and my mouth drops open.
    “Awkward,” I whisper.
    His face bleaches white.
    Kendall reaches a crescendo, screaming her satisfaction into the night as if she were shouting her endless chorus of yes, yes, yes right into our ears.
    “No, no, no,” Morgan groans, pulling a pillow down over his face.
    On second thought, maybe the worst form of torment Morgan can receive is sleeping right here next to Kendall and Cruise.
    I snatch the afghan from the foot of the bed and head out to the couch for the night.
    All night long I dream of Morgan helping me piece together that scrapbook.
     
     

Morgan
    A few days float by with Ally working a series of steady shifts down at Starbucks, where I’m guessing she doesn’t hop on the counter and dance for customers under an assumed name.
    She’s been pretty good about steering clear of me and my hard-on at all hours of the day and night. She’s even slept on the couch voluntarily, but I don’t fight her on it. In fact, I might have to take her to dinner one night to thank her for preserving my back and therefore furthering my baseball career.
    Cruise offers to take me down to the gym and get me a temporary membership so “I don’t get rusty on the field.” As if. But I take the bastard up on it anyway.
    The Carrington Fitness Center meets all the criteria necessary for a workout facility—spacious, well stocked with the latest and greatest in fitness technology, and most importantly, it’s co-ed. Since Ally has firmly made up her mind not to entertain me or my balls under any circumstances, my dick has made the executive decision to move on. As much as I’d like to hang on for her, the head of my committee has vetoed my decision.
    “So how did you and Kendall meet?” I ask as we head into the weight room. Cruise looks lean and mean, as if he lives at the gym, but in reality all I’ve seen him do these past few days is disappear to the bed-and-breakfast, the questionable business venture he’s nailed himself to.
    “Frat party.” He gives a