Blood Witch_ Book Three - Cate Tiernan [57]
“Oh, this is fabulous,” I said with enthusiasm, leafing through it. “This is perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, grinning. “We can go over some of them if you want, practice them.”
I nodded eagerly, like a child, and he laughed again.
“And last,” he said, handing me a medium-size box.
“More?” I couldn’t quite believe this. I was beginning to feel spoiled. Inside this box was a batik blouse in muted shades of lavender and purple and plum. It looked like a storm-shot sunset. I stared at it, touching the cloth with my fingers, drinking in the colors, practically hearing the rumble of thunder and rain.
“I love it,” I said, leaning over to hug him. “I love all of it. Thank you so much for this.” My throat tightened with a rush of emotion. Once again I felt a sense of belonging, of pure contentment. “These are the best birthday gifts anyone has ever given me.”
Cal gave me a sweet smile, and then I was in his arms and we were lying on the bed. I held his head tightly, my fingers laced through his dark hair as we kissed.
“Do you love me?” he whispered against my mouth. I nodded, overwhelmed, holding him hard against me, wanting to be closer.
The cider, the candles all around us, the slight scent of incense, the feel of his smooth skin under my hands—it was as if he were weaving a spell of love around me, making me drowsy and full of a physical longing and ache. And yet . . . and yet. I still held the end of a line between us. Despite my love for him, despite the dark wave of yearning he had awoken in me, I felt myself holding back.
Dimly, as we kissed, I came to the surprising realization that I wasn’t quite ready to give myself to him completely. Even though we were probably mùirn beatha dàns, still, I wasn’t ready to make love with him, to go all the way in joining ourselves together physically and mentally. I didn’t know the reason, but I had to trust my feelings.
“Morgan,” Cal said softly. He raised up on one elbow and looked at me. He was incredibly beautiful, the most beautiful male I had ever seen. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth a dark rose color from kissing. There was no way he and Hunter could be brothers, I thought distantly—and I wondered why Hunter had even popped into my thoughts. Hunter was mean and dangerous, a liar.
“Come on,” Cal said, his voice husky, his hand stroking my waist through my black jumper.
“Um . . .”
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
I let out my breath, not knowing what to say. He draped one leg over me and pulled me closer, curling his hand around my back and snuggling. He nuzzled my neck, and his hand drifted up my waist to just below my breast. It felt incredible, and I willed myself to give in to it, to let the wash of sensation carry me to a new place. I would be seventeen tomorrow: it was time. But somehow I just couldn’t. . . .
“Morgan?” His voice sounded questioning, and my eyes flew to his. His hand stroked my hair away from my face. “I want to make love to you.”
19
Circle of Two
I stared at Cal, loving him but feeling utterly lost.
“I thought you wanted me, too,” he said quietly.
I nodded. That was true—partially, anyway. But what my brain wanted and my body wanted were two different things.
“If you’re worried about birth control, I can take care of it,” he said. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you.”
“I know.” I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I willed them to stop. I felt like a complete failure, and I didn’t know why.
Cal rolled away from me, his arm resting across his forehead as he looked at me. “So what is it?” he said.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I mean, I want to, but I just can’t. I don’t feel ready.”
He reached out his other hand and held mine, absently stroking his thumb across my palm. Finally he shifted and sat up cross-legged in front of me. I scrambled into a sitting position opposite him.
“Are you angry?” I asked.
He smiled wryly. “I’ll live. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I . . .” He left the sentence unfinished.
“I’m sorry,” I said miserably.