His words don’t make sense but his fingers do, and they move across my thighs and under the curve of my breasts. I will my hips to stay on the cushion but I crave his touch, right at my center, and just when I think I can’t bear the teasing any longer, the tips of his fingers dip between my legs, grazing over my most sensitive spots.
“Have you ever had an orgasm, Morgan?”
“Yes,” I breathe, trying to find my voice. And trying even harder not to think of that bumbling night with a potential boyfriend. That relationship, like all the others, didn’t end well. “Just once, really.”
“I can tell. You’re wound tighter than a clock. We’ve got to release a little of this, okay?”
“Ohhkay.” I shudder when he moves further, pushing past the lace of my panties. His lips kiss up and down my neck, sucking and licking every inch. My toes curl on the fire’s edge and I clench my hand around his knee. He strokes the hot nub between my thighs, the one desperate spot begging for all the attention. His fingers move with precision, like he doesn’t want to waste a beat. His free hand moves to my breast, tugging at the strap until he can reach the hard peak of my nipple. I moan at the dual sensation. No, I’ve never felt anything like this.
I grow slick from his touch and I lean my head on his chest. I feel his heartbeat, rapidly thumping against my back. His movements grow quicker, my hips thrust in time, I almost—almost—beg him to do more, go further, but the coil in my lower belly tightens and tightens until I’m wound so far there’s nothing to do but gouge my nails into Sam’s legs and cry as I shatter into a million pieces.
“Sam,” I breathe, trying to regain control of my senses. But all the stress and tightness in my body is gone. I’m limp as a ragdoll against his body. All I want to do is curl up and soak in the moment, but I force myself to sit up and straighten my top, then the hem of my dress. My panties are drenched and I don’t even want to know what my hair looks like. He confirms this by smiling at me and smoothing out my hair.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, leaning forward to kiss me. His lips are warm and inviting. “I always knew you would be, but it’s like looking into the sun. Blinding.”
He kisses me again and again and again, until the moon rises high and we both sleep.
Chapter 13
Sam
“I fucked up.”
Dylan looks up from the book at his desk. It’s a massive tome, six hundred years old, with brittle pages and faded ink. I spot a familiar design at the top of the page. The sword that Damien forged into a ring—the same one he’s creating for Morgan.
“What did you do?”
“She’s just so…” I can’t believe I did it. I’d been so careful. We all have, but seeing her like that. Red cheeked and post-orgasmic. I just let it slip. “I made a comment about how I’d always known she would be beautiful.”
Dylan’s jaw ticks. “Did she react?”
I can’t help the smirk. “Honestly, I think she was too fucking pleased to notice.”
“Yeah, we all caught on to that. The whole house shuddered when she finally came.”
I expect a congratulations on being the one to push her over the edge but no, I fucked up. That’s why I’m here.
“As obnoxious as it is, you’re probably right,” he says, leaning back in his leather chair. “She was probably too distracted and even then, we may have to continue to nudge her toward the truth anyway. I think we’re running out of time and her memory is slow to recover.”
“I know. My photos aren’t getting any better.” In fact, they’re scary as fuck. The darkness is looming and if we don’t get the bond forged, we’re all screwed.
“Did you get a feeling?” he asks with a straight face. To be chosen bears a lot of responsibility. Morgan’s mate will no longer just be her guardian. He’ll be her partner and take the brunt of her powerful energy. “Like you were the one?”
“I felt something—she’s special. The desire to please her is overwhelming.” There’s no mistaking the pain on Dylan’s face. We all feel the need to pleasure Morgan. “But she didn’t push it further. I gave what I could but as you know, the choice is up to her.”
Dylan nods and looks back at the book in front of him. He’s studied the lore on Morgan and the gate for many years. He carried the knowledge in him even when he took the form of a raven. But this is the first time I’ve seen lines of worry by his eyes.
“We have time,” I assure him. “Her memories are coming back. She’s writing a lot and the two energy releases have helped. I think she’s aware that she may need to rely on us more. Once that happens, she’ll be more receptive to understanding the truth and her role in everything.”
“And you think she’ll make the right choice?”
We both know this is where the whole problem lies. Morgan must know the truth about her past; what has happened and the destruction she caused.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “But soon we’ll find out and we need to be prepar
ed one way or the other.
Chapter 14