Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(53)
It ends now. There was no question or doubt in his mind they were meant to be together. He had stood up to Dark witchlings; he could stand up to his own counterbalance, no matter how angry – or beautiful – she was.
Chapter Eighteen
“I’ll check in daily,” Morgan said and draped her wet clothing over the furniture. She didn’t think twice about Beck’s silence, assured he would roll over the way he usually did. She’d seen him do it with Dawn; he’d done it multiple times with her. Confident and amazing, Beck nonetheless usually let women walk all over him.
For once, she was almost glad about it. Sitting in his arms left her too turned on, too confused and afraid of messing up to know what to do. She was mentally puzzling over his assertion about them being destined for one another. The part of her that felt the primal belonging agreed, yet the rational side of her didn’t quite get how two people were chosen for one another by magick. She’d been able to ignore the idea until he finally admitted to it.
His explanation made sense. It wasn’t the fact it happened. It was the fact it happened to her. To someone who had never had a good day in her life, and she was the one given a gift as incredible, exhilarating and terrifying as Beck.
“Alright. That’s it.” Beck rose and approached her.
Morgan glanced at him and tossed her wet sweater over the arm of the small couch near the fire. Beck was glowing with Light, and there was resolve on his features. Entertained at the thought he was really going to try to put his foot down with her, she faced him and placed her hands on her hips. “You grow a backbone with women while I was gone?” she taunted, unable to help the words when her fire magick was sending flutters of desire in every direction inside her.
“With you.” He stopped inside her personal space.
Unwilling to back down, she stayed put and leaned her head back to gaze up at him.
“We’re in this together, whether or not you want to admit it,” he continued with the same firmness. “You aren’t leaving, Morgan. You’re safer here.”
“But you aren’t.”
“I can handle me,” he said with a brief smile. “I can handle you, too.”
She was surprised to realize she believed him. His steady gaze and powerful magick were trained on her. It was as much the Master of Light as Beck addressing her, and the combination of earth and Light magic transfixed her.
Fire leapt into the space between them, and he subdued it with his earth magick. She already knew she’d lose in a magick battle, partly because her control was tentative at best. A small voice warned her Beck wasn’t going to back down. It was smarter to wake up early and leave, but something about him made her want to push him, as reckless as it seemed. Her eyes slid to his lips, and she recalled too well how incredible it had been to kiss him. She often wondered what it would be like to provoke his gentle earth magick to the point he lost control. Beck was powerful, and earth magick was the oldest, the strongest. If he ignited her fire with a simple touch, what would a night with him be like?
Not that she was ready for such a thing. “I’m not staying.”
“For me?” The moment he took her hands, some of her resistance began to slide away. Morgan tried not to let his earth magick deflate her anger and resolution, make her want to agree to whatever he asked. She stepped back only to run into the coffee table.
The intensity between them was climbing, and she felt ready to combust. She needed a distraction, a way to take his focus off her so she could put some distance between them without backing down from her decision. She wouldn’t get far if she left now. She was too tired.
But if she drove him away …
He had backed down whenever she tested his control. She just had to remind him of it.
With need and his claim to love her clamoring inside her, she stepped into him. Taking his cheeks with her hands, she pulled his face to his and kissed him.
The moment his lips touched hers, her fire ignited. She felt the surge of his earth magick attempting to rein it in and realized he was fighting something, too. He was fighting her. As much as he said about them being destined to find one another, he was resisting.
The thought intrigued her, and she unleashed more fire, loving the thought of pushing him off balance, of challenging him.
Beck’s arms went around her, and he deepened the kiss. The moment she tasted him, her world began to crumble and burn from the inside out, crippled by yearning for the man who touched her soul and feeling as if crushed to mere smoldering embers by the power of his earth magick. His body was outlined by the fire he was absorbing.
He feels right. Her magick tangled with his, pushing and teasing, while their kissing grew heavier. She sensed his restraint and poked at it, pressing herself the full length of his lean frame and wrapping her arms around his neck. His scent filled her senses while she melted into the heat and strength of his body. His erection grew hard against her lower belly, and she pressed her hips to his, wanting to experience all of him. His warm lips and hot tongue guided her less experienced ones, and she let him show her, let him lead them both towards the molten desire lurking just below the surface, waiting to consume them.
“Morgan,” he whispered in a husky tone and broke the kiss. “You have to control it.” Despite the words and the struggle she felt through their magick, Beck traced hot kisses down her jaw and neck. She stifled a groan, amazed at the amount of pleasure something so simple could give.