Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [101]
So I begrudgingly agreed to door-to-door chauffeur service, provided by Salinger Industries. Brendan’s dad’s company was responsible for key buildings in the New York City skyline, which explains how Brendan was able to summon a limo with little more than a snap of his fingers. And by Friday, I realized I’d done the right thing by letting my pride take a walk while I took a ride with Brendan; if I’d walked to and from school every day that week, there would have been zero chance that I could have managed the heels I’d borrowed from Ashley.
And there was another little bonus to having a ride home: Friday, we were alone in the back of the limo, which the driver had somehow managed to parallel park on Sixty-seventh Street before taking off for a coffee break.
“I should get going upstairs,” I murmured for the four thousandth time, cradled in Brendan’s arms as we lay there, stretched out in the enormous backseat of the limo. “I have to get ready…do my hair.”
“Your hair looks beautiful as it is.” Brendan’s fingers twisted in my hair, his breath was warm on my neck. His mouth teased my skin, alternating between gentle nibbles and more demanding kisses.
“I really have to get dressed,” I whispered a few minutes later, but contradicted myself by lightly raking my nails down the back of his neck—one of Brendan’s more sensitive spots, I’d come to learn. With a playful growl, he pressed his lips to mine, his urgency flooding my senses.
“I have to, um, I should get upstairs.” My thoughts got foggy when he broke away to kiss my neck again. Where did I need to be? Why did I have to be anywhere except in this backseat?
“We have hours,” Brendan said persuasively, his mouth moving to my collarbone as his hand traveled up my thigh.
“You might, but it takes me longer,” I said, reluctantly pulling myself up and out of his embrace. Getting ready was just my excuse—I felt like if I didn’t put the brakes on now, I might not have the strength to stop things if they progressed to a more intimate level. And I was not about to lose my virginity in the back of a limo before a big dance.
“Actually, we don’t have hours. I forgot my turntable at home so I couldn’t completely set up before school this morning.” Brendan gave me an apologetic smile as he propped himself up with one elbow. “We have to get to the dance about a half hour early, if that’s okay. I have to set up all the deejay equipment.”
“Then I should really go,” I exclaimed, grabbing my bag from the wide floor. But Brendan grabbed my hand and pulled me back, reaching into his jacket pocket for something.
“Well, you can’t get ready without this, I think,” he said, pressing a small box into my hand as he touched his lips to my cheek.
“What— Brendan, what is this?” I stammered as I looked down at the black velvet box, confused. I already promised Aunt Christine I wouldn’t elope….
“It’s just something for you to wear to remind you of how I feel—something else for you to wear, I should say,” he corrected himself as he ruefully touched his index finger to my pendant.
I opened the box—then gasped. Nestled in the black velvet was a white-gold Claddagh ring—with a sapphire heart-shaped stone in the center.
“Oh, my God, Brendan, this is beautiful,” I breathed, touching the glittering face of the ring with featherlight strokes, afraid to smudge the sparkling metal. Two hands gripped the heart, which was adorned with a glimmering diamond crown.
“It’s a Clauddagh,” he said, taking it out of the box and sliding it onto my ring finger. “You wear with the heart facing this way.” Brendan tapped the point of the heart, which faced me. “It shows that you’re spoken for.”
“I know.” I smiled, gazing at the ring in awe. “My mom had a Claddaugh.” Then a thought occurred to me, and I looked up to meet his intense green gaze.
“Why sapphire? Don’t get me wrong—I