Thirty-Two – Morgan
Thirty-Two
Morgan
“ W eeeaaassel, y-you’re a wea-sssel,” Rory slurred against my shoulder as I guided him across the walkway toward our guest room. “Sssuch a lovely weeeeasel.”
Cal’s escort service unknowingly came with three bonus rounds of drinks with my siblings. They’d cornered him against the kitchen island, peppering him with endless questions about his football career and role at the university. The conversation inevitably veered off course, devolving into a prolonged roast of Wakeland State and Finley the Fisher. By midnight, they’d turned into plastered pumpkins, wobbling and spilling laughter all over the loft.
Drawn by Rory’s drunken crooning, Kelsey emerged from her bedroom—hair down, pearls removed, sweater untucked. She stifled a yawn and reached for our brother.
“I’ve got this.”
“You sure?”
“Puppy pile!” Rory shouted and slipped out of my grasp, barreling past Kelsey to fling himself onto her yellow bedspread.
Her room was the opposite of mine, with a coral accent wall and vivid pops of color in bold patterns.
“You pig… You piggy little…heathen!” Piper staggered out of the bathroom in nothing but her undergarments and black stockings. Without a shred of irony, she dropped her sequined dress on the floor and started pawing through Kelsey’s dresser in search of nightwear. “Take your fucking shoes off! We weren’t raised in a barn. ”
“Go.” Kelsey waved me off. “I’ll handle the children. The alpha’s your problem.”
After bidding them all goodnight, I went back downstairs.
Cal was sprawled across the couch, one arm arched over his head, exposing a strip of his stomach. Kip sat perched above his head, tail twitching as he watched Cal with intense focus, hoping to resume their prolonged game of fetch—not that Kip had retrieved a single toy Rory or Cal had thrown for him in the past hour.
Cal flashed a lazy grin. “Your family’s great.”
“I know.” I headed into the kitchen to fill a tumbler of water for him, adding a lid and straw, just in case.
“Like really, really great,” he half-mumbled as I approached. “Makes sense—” His grin grew wider. “Because you’re wonderful.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I perched on the side of the coffee table and held out the water. “You’re drunk.”
“Buzzed at most.” He sucked down the water with all the zeal of someone who’d been stranded in the desert for a month.
“Not fit to drive.”
“Yes, Dr. Van Daal.” The straw made a horrid noise as he drained the final few drops and returned the tumbler to me. “I’m changing our one-on-ones to group meetings. In a conference room.”
I blinked at the abrupt change of topic. My temper flared, sorely tempted to be insulted. Was this about Garvey—or had I done something wrong?
The tumbler hit the coffee table. “Why?”
“Plausible deniability.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes.” Cal swung his legs to the floor, pushing himself upright with a slight groan. “You do.”
Without further preamble, he leaned over and kissed me.
Unlike our first kiss, his every move was deliberate. His hands found my hips, drawing me forward until I straddled his thighs. Our torsos melded together as his tongue stroked mine.
Nothing else mattered, only his touch and the firm yet tender insistence of his mouth—disarming me slowly, thoroughly, with captivating determination.
It consumed me to the point that I even forgot about our potential audience upstairs.
An endless, conquering kiss from which I had no chance of escape.
Because I didn’t want to—I was exactly where I wanted to be.
Then, the faintest hint of fruit blossomed on my upper lip. What was that ? Where had it come from? I had to have more.
I took charge, arms wrapping around his neck, my tongue darting into his mouth, chasing that elusive flavor.
It was like a perfectly ripe peach, just sweet and juicy enough to make me addicted. And something else… Something earthy. Woody with a touch of salt.
Almonds with an undercurrent of ripe peach.
Amaretto.
Cal.
His kiss tasted like amaretto. Like his pheromone signature.
I had experienced the taste— the scent —of an alpha’s pheromones for the first time in a decade.
This wasn’t a mere kiss. It was a bridge to something I thought was lost forever—a euphoric rush of desire and an instinctual understanding that this man was right for me.
But why now? Had something changed? Was my sense of smell returning, or was this an illusion born of desperation?
My certainty faltered. A heavy ache settled in my chest.
Tears swarmed my eyes, unbidden and unstoppable, spilling down my cheeks.
“Talk to me, Morgan.” Cal cradled me against his chest, his thumb brushing away my tears, soothing me in his deep, reassuring voice—but it wasn’t enough to quell the emotions surging within me.
“I just—I…” A fresh sting of disbelief prompted more tears.
“Did I hurt you?” His voice hitched.
“No,” I said quickly, fingers scrambling to seek purchase in the fabric of his sweater, trying to reassure him.
“Good, that’s good.” He pressed our foreheads together. “Do you want this—want me?”
“Y-yes, even though I shouldn’t.”
“So, you’re not crying because I kissed you?”
“No—I mean, yes, but not the way you think.” I brushed away the remaining tears and took a centering breath before explaining myself. “I can’t really smell anything. Even up close, it’s faint at best. And it messes with my head sometimes. But just now… I swear I tasted amaretto. Your pheromones. That’s never happened before.”
“Really?” His comforting touches never ceased, but the glint of curiosity in his gaze betrayed that the pheromone-obsessed quadrant of his brain had been activated.
“Never. And I’ve tried, believe me, I’ve tried everything . So, I didn’t think it would ever happen—that I would have that feeling again. When the attraction…clicks.” My voice almost broke as I slumped against his shoulder. “And I don’t know how to process this right now.”
He pressed a lingering kiss against my hair. “Your sense of taste is almost as good at detecting compatibility as scent. As for why it hasn’t happened before…” Brimming with self-satisfaction, a wide smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “It’s just that your omega has standards. High standards. Was content to wait for the tallest, most intelligent—”
“I think my omega just wants to get laid.”
Cal’s chest rumbled with surprised laughter. “I was trying to be romantic!”
“No, you were boasting.”
“Don’t I deserve to boast,” he said, nuzzling my neck, “just a little? Since my pheromones are so pleasing to your palate.”
I bit back a smile. “I suppose—if you must.”
“See? High standards. Exceedingly high standards.”
After a series of long, teasing kisses, he pulled back, cupping my face in his hands. Cal’s gaze was tender as it trailed across my features, but it lacked his usual confidence.
“Be with me?” he murmured.
It took a little more effort each day to deny howI felt about Cal, and after experiencing the mellow yet delectable flavor of his pheromones, I didn’t want to pretend anymore.
Tightening my arms around his neck, I kissed the hinge of his jaw, then whispered in his ear, “Third time’s a charm.”
Cal’s bear hug was all-encompassing, pressing me flush against his solid chest, beaming with happiness.
“But only outside of work hours,” I added before he got too carried away.
“Of course.” Cal locked me in place with one massive arm while the other hand stroked the back of my head in quiet contentment. “No making out in the supply closet or sending dirty texts on the sidelines. We’ll take it slow—your pace, your rules.”
The heat radiating from his chest sank deep into my rigid muscles, comforting me, coaxing me, and allowing me to expel a little more tension with every kiss and every breath we shared until he lulled me into a near-submissive haze.
Cal continued to stroke my hair until my limbs grew heavy. “Do you want to move somewhere more comfortable?”
My rusty instincts kicked in. “Come with me.”
I eased off his lap and headed for my library nest. Cal trailed behind me, taking in the saturated colors and lack of overhead lighting. I dove beneath my favorite gray weighted blanket, gathering a small mountain of throw pillows to burrow into.
When I glanced up, I realized Cal hadn’t followed me inside.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at the ankle, lips toying with a smile as he tried not to look pleased with himself.
“Better?”
I mashed a few pillows into a more appealing shape. “At least gloat where I can see you.”
He took a hesitant step forward, his sock-clad toes just inching over the lip of the sunken nest.
“You’re—you’re inviting me in?”
His voice was full of misplaced reverence, having mistaken my library nest for something sacred.
“Yes, Cal. Permission granted,” I said, fighting to keep the sarcasm from my voice. Cal valued—needed—explicit, verbal consent. Another thing to admire about him.
His large frame almost filled the space to capacity. Watching him awkwardly rearrange throw pillows as he tried to get comfortable, doing his best not to manhandle my soft furnishings, was far too amusing.
Stifling a laugh, I threw myself into his embrace. He wasn’t ready for the impact, nearly rolling onto his back. Cal let out a delighted huff and wrapped his arms around me.
“Still okay?” he asked, seeking further confirmation.
I nodded and kissed the base of his throat. How could Cal be an unwelcome addition when he was so big, toasty, and perfect for cuddling?
“This isn’t my primary nest,” I explained. “It’s more like a workspace. And don’t worry about your scent getting on things. Can’t bother me.”
“You know, for the longest time, I couldn’t understand why you were okay muting your scent.” Cal toyed with my hair, fingers caressing my scalp. “How you could be so calm when standing five feet from a coach tearing into a ref. Or when the players are trying to suffocate you with their horny stink.”
“The players don’t flirt with me,” I said. Cal raised a brow, a teasing spark in his eye. I poked him in the chest, emphasizing each word. “They do not.”
“Right, right,” said Cal, shifting to set his keys and phone on the lowest shelf of the bookcase, then placed his glasses beside them. “Just like you aren’t gorgeous.”
I gave him a flat stare, even as warmth bloomed in my cheeks—and my omega preened like a peacock. “We’re not doing this.”
Tenny prowled around the edge of the nest, out of sorts that Cal had stolen nearly all the available space. He plopped down at the bottom of the cat tree to sulk in silent protest.
“Okay, there’s plenty of time to talk about how attractive you are later,” Cal murmured, kissing the crown of my head. His tone shifted to something a touch more serious. “Was today the deadline for the sports medicine job?”
“Yeah, Reyhan and I both applied. Not that I’m holding out much hope.” I rested my chin on his shoulder. “Dr. Sethi—Anya—tried to talk me out of applying at a volleyball game a few weeks ago.”
“Gilbert mentioned that. What was your take?”
“Seemed like cryptic but well-intentioned career advice.”
“That’s her style,” Cal said with a nod. “Anya understands your strengths. Honestly, you’d be better in a more omega-friendly sports medicine program than ours. She doesn’t want you to settle. Neither do I.”
I ran my fingers across his sweater, focusing on the silken texture rather than the solid muscle beneath. “Was she good to you growing up?”
“She’s fond of me in her own way. Heather’s the one with a grudge,” he said, fingers wandering along my spine. “Can’t say that I blame her.”
Tilting my head back, I studied his face. “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Except be born an alpha.”
I hesitated, unsure if I was overstepping. But the question had been bothering me for ages, and if we were going to be together, that meant being honest. Heaven help me.
“Is… Is it true your cousin got Heather’s promotion?”
Cal attempted to smirk, but it crumbled part-way, resulting in a wince. “Someone did their research.”
“Yes, I did eventually do some internet sleuthing,” I admitted, heat crawling up my neck. “Not exactly proud of it, but… I wanted to know you better.”
“I looked you up right after you started. Checked out your legs in those flashy little leotards—” Poking his stomach was enough to make him stop talking but did nothing to quell his laughter. “Okay, okay, I’ll behave.”
Tenny let out an offended yowl and abandoned the library in favor of a different, less hormonally charged nap spot.
“Well, since you know the basics, I can skip to the ugly parts.” Cal pressed his forehead against mine, trying to mask the brittleness of his smile. “Grandfather will only hand over the company to a male alpha. Which meant Chaz needed an alpha son, not a beta daughter. Since omegas have the best chance of birthing an alpha, he found a young one with an outstanding academic background that had no idea how screwed up rich people could be. He mated and knocked her up during their first heat together.”
Anya’s stack of diamond mating rings flashed through my mind. “Did the others approve?”
“In theory. They thought they were getting a high-society omega, fresh from finishing school, who could schmooze at parties and build connections for them. Instead, they got my mom. The omega rights advocate.” He scoffed. “It didn’t go over well. But personal feelings don’t matter to my father. Not when there’s power involved. All he cared about was getting what he wanted—the position of Verray’s CEO.”
I tightened my hold on his sweater. “Did he at least love your mom?”
“In his own way—at first. Ate dinner with us, took her to parties, and supported her charitable efforts. But it was painfully shallow. Never integrated her into the rest of the pack. Kept us in a cottage that used to belong to my widowed great-grandmother. Amazing views of the bay, lovely garden. But it’s so far from the main house, and…” His voice faltered. “I was at school when she miscarried, and no one could hear her. Hemorrhaged so badly, she almost died…and couldn’t get pregnant again. Lost all her value as far as Chaz was concerned.”
My heart broke for Laurel Carling—a brilliant woman, reduced to nothing more than an alpha incubator by the man she trusted.
“Was Brizo House a coping mechanism for her?” My fingers trailed along his neck, trying to soothe us both.
He nodded. “Yeah. Money was the one thing he wasn’t stingy about.”
“It’s such a great name.”
Brizo, the goddess who protects mariners. Fitting for a coastal city like Northport,but also a perfect encapsulation of the founder’s intent—to be a safe harbor for those struggling with the rough tides of life.
“So good, in fact,” I continued, “I didn’t even bother to read the mission statement before becoming a long-term donor.”
He angled my face until our lips met for a glancing kiss and whispered, “And that’s why she would have loved you.”
I tightened my hold on Cal and kissed him with everything I had, desperate to distract him—from memories of what he’d lost, the bitter emptiness of his mother’s unfulfilled promise—and to override the hot scratch in the back of my throat, threatening me with more tears.
If my options were to lose control of my emotions in front of Cal or let go in search of physical pleasure with him, the choice was obvious.
Cal humored my frantic, unsophisticated overtures but had no intention of keeping pace. I cradled the back of his head and kissed him deeply, seeking every trace of his amaretto flavor—but he was content with taking shallow passes along my lips, teeth just grazing flesh. I nipped at his teasing, flickering tongue but couldn’t secure any meaningful contact.
When he launched a proper counterattack of sinfully decadent kisses, I balked, not wanting to take things slow, and tugged at the collar of his sweater.
“Off,” I said, half-demanding, not quite begging. “Take it off.”
He batted away the weighted blanket and the encroaching pillows before rolling me onto my back. My hands slipped from his neck, but I kept my gaze locked on him.
Cal gripped the hem of his cashmere sweater, pulling it and his undershirt off in one fluid motion, revealing the powerful planes of his torso. His muscles were solid slabs, lightly toned but unmistakable, with a layer of inviting softness around his waist.
He leaned forward, planting a hand on the upholstered surface of the nest, an edge of desire surfacing in his kiss. I trailed my fingers up his arms, along every inch of those broad shoulders, until I could reach his back, urging him lower.
I wanted Cal’s weight on me, grounding me, reminding me that this was real—and it was okay to want more.
“Hold on,” Cal said, hooking a finger around the side of my glasses. He pulled them off and set them beside his pair on the bookshelf. His form became distorted, making it harder to read his facial expression.
I tried to pull him closer, wanting to see him clearly while we kissed, but Cal didn’t comply. He was too busy unbuttoning my shirt, exposing the waistband of my pants and the first few inches of my stomach.
He paused.
It took me a moment without the aid of my glasses to realize he was looking at me, a silent question for permission to continue. I nodded.
Cal’s hand slipped beneath my shirt, caressing my skin as he recaptured my mouth.
“Tell me,” he whispered. “What do you like… Where’s it feel good?”
Why did his basic decency hurt so much? I couldn’t answer him, trying to bury the shameful admission between his kisses.
He paused, hand stalling against my ribcage. “Morgan?”
“Don’t know. I don’t know.” My head fell to the side. If I looked at Cal, my distorted vision would see rejection in his gaze, regardless of whether it was real. “Haven’t done this—just been with someone—since…before. Just heats.”
Cal eased down beside me, resting his weight on one forearm, hand retreating from beneath my shirt. “Heats you’ve stopped having.”
Face all but buried in the nest’s padded surface, I nodded. “Three years ago.”
“Mind if I ask why?”
“Because I—I need more…”
“Stimulation or lubrication?”
“All of it. Everything. And it’s a fucking hassle.”
His palm made rhythmic passes along my thigh, hip to knee, hip to knee. Cal lowered his faceso that it rested next to mine and pressed a long kiss to the center of my forehead.
“Can I try something?”
“Sure, I guess. If you want.”
Cal’s hand trailed along my side and onto my back, settling his palm between my shoulder blades. He inched closer, pressing his bare chest against my still-clothed breasts.
And purred.
I gasped, unprepared for the sensation. No alpha had ever purred for me before. Shivers radiated across my torso, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The vibrations worked lower, circling the base of my spine, then even lower, a skittish thrum deep within my abdomen.
Thick fingers gripped the underside of my knee. Cal parted my legs and pressed the solid weight of his thigh against my core. Connecting the distant rumble of his purr with my clit. I whimpered, all but writhing against his leg, aching for a stronger connection.
How would his purr feel directly against my skin? It was hard to imagine anything better than this. Or maybe the sensation would overwhelm me, make me even weaker for this man.
Wreck me.
Cal settled the glorious, still purring width of his body between my thighs, pressing his heat where I wanted it most. His hips rolled upward for one singularly prolonged, maddening thrust. I savored every thick inch of his erection.
“You like that?” Cal braced his arms on either side of my head and nuzzled my temple, his kisses soft and desirous. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”
His hips retreated, something I couldn’t accept.
“Cal, no—Cal!”
The second thrust made us both cry out, his purr nearing a roar, mouth hot and demanding as his teeth nipped at my ear. He continued to grind against me, driving his straining hardness across my still-clothed center. Again and again, too much for my rational mind to accept, but never enough. My clit ached for direct stimulation.
“Touch me,” I said, a hazy whimper against his heated skin, “please.”
Cal pushed my shirt up, exposing my stomach and bra-clad breasts. His thumb traced the outline of a nipple through the fabric. Lust surfaced in his gaze.
“Damn.”
“I know what you mean,” I said with a breathy laugh, helping Cal as he fumbled to get my shirt off over my head.
“No, you’re incredible. I’ve gotten lazy, but you…” His kiss was like a brand—firm, on the verge of possessive—leaving no room for doubt between us. Cal wanted me. All of me. Far more than I had expected. “Fucking stunning.”
As we kissed, I held his face in my hands, trying to convey how much I admired and wanted him. The brilliance of his mind. How well he’d come to know me in just a few months. His patience and seemingly endless support, none of which I deserved but was becoming increasingly reliant on.
One hand slipped between the nest padding and my back. He made quick work of my bra, leaving my full breasts bare to his touch.
His tongue circled my right nipple, leaving a trail of tiny sparks in its wake. The constant vibrations spiraled my need higher. When he finally took the aching peak into his mouth, I rewarded him with a proper moan.
“Good?” he asked, hot breath skimming across the wet skin of my breast, prompting a fresh wave of goosebumps.
“Y-yeah…” I pushed Cal’s sweat-tinged bangs away from his face, revealing his hazel eyes, backlit with desire. “More—can there be more?”
Cal nodded, already kissing his way across my chest. He paused to trace each line of the Olympic rings tattooed beneath my right collarbone with his tongue, an unexpectedly erotic detour that left me trembling.
After giving my breast a final lingering kiss, Cal slid downward—purring, always purring—his thumb catching on the button of my pants.
“Okay?”
“Yes, yes,” I said, repeating the word as he bared my legs.
The hand behind my back dipped lower, angling my hips so I could feel each thrust in its entirety. Cold metal slid against my stomach—his belt buckle—a sharp contrast to the heat between us.
I answered his thrusts, still searching for more, even as he tweaked my nipple .
The thick cords of muscle along his back bunched and flexed, his true power expertly controlled as he guided me, wound me up, never pushing, never forcing.
Cal pressed our torsos together—an uneven fit because of our height difference—resting more of his weight to one side, purring directly against my fluttering heart.
When his hand slipped between my legs, I couldn’t help but tense up. I thought—hoped—that I was aroused. I had to be. Even just a little.
Cal made gentle, exploratory passes through my folds. Smooth passes. He left a trail of kisses along my cheek, then whispered against my ear, “You’re getting wet.”
Relief flowed through me, allowing me to enjoy his touch without worry. His fingers stroked me with tender promise until I could feel the faint evidence of my own arousal, prompting a satisfied moan.
Pleased with my initial reaction, Cal’s focus shifted to my clit, fingertip circling ever closer to the perfect spot, never quite where I needed him.
I whimpered, hips bucking, desperate to come.
“Shh, easy. I’ve got you.”
He continued his exasperating yet breathtaking ministrations, the texture of his finger precisely what I wanted, if only—if only…
Cal pulled back. The golden ring around his irises flashed with hunger.
“Trust me?”
I nodded, watching with rapt attention as Cal ran his fingers across his sweaty brow. He slipped the damp digits between my lips and stroked my tongue—flooding my mouth with the essence of amaretto.
Unable to help myself, I sucked on his fingers, yearning for more of his flavor.
And then he flicked the tip of my clit. I cried out, back arching, hovering at the precipice. He rubbed tantalizing circles around my frenzied nerves by way of wicked apology.
So close, I was so close.
My mouth latched onto the sweat-slicked expanse of his chest, licking his skin. Needing the extra kick of his pheromones.
His purr ramped up another notch.
I was at the mercy of his determined rhythm—fingers, hips—clinging to his chest, whimpers lengthening into a needy whine, the electric tingle of pleasure dancing across my skin.
My release was so complete—so overwhelming—that I forgot to breathe. He’d stolen all control from me, and I hadn’t even noticed.
Cal rolled onto his side, pulling me flush against him before draping a blanket across our merged forms. His hands never stopped moving, leaving kisses along my bare skin. Purring all the while.
“I got wet,” I murmured, still loose and uninhibited, safe within his embrace. I couldn’t help myself.
Tonight had been revelatory.
“Yes,” Cal said in symphony with an extra deep purr. “And next time will be even better.” He kissed the curve of my neck, precisely where a mating bite would go. “I promise.”