Winter Fire (The Witchling #3)(59)

“Where do you plan on going?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “It doesn’t matter.”

She dropped to her knees to retrieve shoes from the bottom of the closet. When she stood, she tossed them. She paused for a moment, gazing around her.

“Morgan,” he said softly. He sat on the bed between the suitcases.

She looked at him quickly then away. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She went to the dresser and pulled open all four drawers.

“If you leave, I lose you,” he said quietly.

She stopped.

“Hey, come on,” he said. He reached out to her again, stretching his long arm across the space between the bed and dresser. “Talk to me.”

Morgan didn’t pull away this time. Beck took that as a good sign and stood, moving behind her. He rested his hands on her upper arms. His gaze went from her unruly curls to a strange, black rock on her dresser. It looked … familiar. Before he could determine why, she spoke.

“It’s better this way.”

“What’s better?” he asked.

“Everything I touch turns to ash.”

“I won’t,” he replied. “I can promise you that.”

“You deserve someone better than me.”

“Morgan.” His heart broke at the pain in her tone. “That’s not true at all. I want to be with you.”

“You don’t even know me!”

“You’re beautiful and sweet and strong. Your heart is so good, you try to prevent others from feeling the pain that you’ve been through,” he whispered. “You’re incredible, Morgan. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

She was quiet, breathing deeply enough he could tell she was struggling to control herself. Her magick zipped through him, and he gently tried to calm her.

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” she said finally.

Beck almost sighed. He turned her to face him. She wiped her face hastily, and he tipped her chin up.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I kinda need to know,” he pressed.

Morgan’s distress was rising. Her pine-colored eyes swam with emotions. He wasn’t certain she’d answer, but he loved gazing into those eyes that reminded him of the forest. Of all the things he expected her to do, kissing him wasn’t one of them.

Morgan took his face in her hands and rose up on her tiptoes. Her lips touched his timidly. The flash of fire magick that shot through him lit his desire, the way it had last night.

Beck wasn’t about to reject her, even if he suspected she was trying to distract him. He responded slowly, unwilling to pressure her in any way. When he deepened the kiss this time, she didn’t hesitate as she had every other time, but leaned into him. Beck’s arms went around her instinctively.

Morgan responded boldly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Beck sensed her control of her magick slipping under a combination of extreme emotion and desire.

“Morgan,” he whispered, pulling away. “We need to figure this out.”

“No, we don’t,” she replied and kissed him again.

Fire tore through him. When it came to Morgan, he didn’t want to say no. Ever. He felt like dry kindle to a hungry fire; her passion only grew as he responded. Beck lost himself in the sweetness of her taste and the softness of her skin. He’d tumbled into bed with many girls, but this one would be different. Not only did he feel so much more for her, but her magick would make any encounter explosive.

“Morgan,” he tried once again.

Her breathing was ragged.

“I don’t want to do anything you regret. I don’t want to push you into anything or for you –“

“Will you regret anything we do?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Hell no.”

“Beck.” There were tears in her voice, a tremble to her chin that made him want to do whatever he had to in order to ease her pain. “I trust you. I’m scared.”

“I never thought I’d hear those words,” he said. He wanted to assure her he’d never let anything happen to her.

He kissed her this time. Morgan’s body eased against his in a sign of surrender that unraveled more of his resistance. His own passion was barely restrained; he wasn’t known for resisting women in the first place, but this one and her fire had driven him crazy with desire since their meeting.

He pressed her against the wall, anxious to feel her perfect body. Morgan’s hands went over his chest and arms, and he wanted nothing more than to remove the clothing that separated their bodies. Her passion matched his. Beck’s hands started up her shirt, and he was thrilled to feel the magick increase at the direct contact with her skin.

A knock at the door jarred him, and he realized how little control each of them retained. He rested his forehead against the wall, breathing hard. Morgan’s breath tickled his ear, and her cheek rested against his.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Morgan, you’re playing with fire,” he warned.

She said nothing, and he peered into her eyes again. She touched his face.

“I love fire,” she whispered.

“Hold that thought,” he said, smiling. He pushed himself away from the wall, resisting the urge to shake his head to free his mind from the fire.