Hidden Talents

this. I'll finish it.”
    She lifted her head and searched his face, seeking desperately for some way to explain something that could not be put into words. “This just isn't the right time. Not yet. Not for me.”
    “I know. You're beautiful. A little weird, but beautiful.” There was enough light to see the deeply sensual twist of his lips. He didn't look angry. “My wild, magic princess.” His hand slipped down toward her breast. He touched the griffin that hung there. Then his hand went lower, to her waist. “You make me burn.”
    “Caleb…”
    “I know. It's too soon for what I want,” he whispered. “But is it too soon for this?” He slipped his hand lower still and once again found the warm, wet cleft hidden between her legs.
    Serenity flinched and sucked in her breath. “I don't think—”
    “I just want to touch you. Can you trust me that much at least?”
    “But what about you?” She felt like an idiot.
    He laughed softly in the shadows. “You can touch me, too. If you want to touch me, that is.”
    “I do,” she said. “Very much. But Caleb—”
    “Trust me tonight.” He kissed her throat as he found her softness with his hand. “Give me that much, at least. All I'm going to do is touch you.”
    “Oh, Caleb .” Her small, choked cry was cut off as he stroked her. The unbearably tight, soaring sensation that she had been experiencing a few minutes earlier roared back.
    Enthralled by the novelty of the twisting tension building within her, she could only cling to him. Her eyes widened and then squeezed shut as he continued to stroke her intimately.
    She knew he was watching her face in the shadows. Serenity could feel the masculine anticipation in him. He was waiting for something to happen. She was waiting also, but she didn't know quite what to expect.
    Then she remembered that she was supposed to be touching him, too. She splayed her hands across his chest and slipped them downward across his flat stomach.
    “No,” he said into her ear. “I've changed my mind. I won't be able to handle this if you do that.”
    “But I want to touch you.”
    “Not tonight.”
    She moaned as he did something incredibly erotic with his hand. And then she stiffened in surprise.
    “It's all right. Let it happen. Trust me .”
    “I don't…I can't…Oh, my God, I'm going to, I'm really—” Disbelief and then wonder tore through her along with her first climax. Helpless in the storm, she wrapped her arms around his neck and shuddered in his arms.
    “Serenity?”
    She laughed and then she cried and then she collapsed against his chest in joyous release.
    “I'll be damned,” Caleb said. “Don't tell me this is another first.”

    A few minutes later Serenity stirred drowsily. She instinctively snuggled closer to Caleb. The water surged around her. Maybe it was the right time, after all, she thought.
    She felt wonderful; very sure of herself. The confusion and qualms had all but vanished in the throes of her orgasm. It was amazing.
    Yes, definitely the right time. She wondered why she hadn't seen that earlier. Things had just been confused for a while.
    “Caleb?”
    He caught her hand as it strayed across his chest. He held her fingers still, leaned his head back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. “I've got a quick question, if you don't mind.”
    “Umm-hmm?” She wriggled against his leg and began to nibble his earlobe.
    “Is this or is this not the first time you've had an orgasm?”
    “Is. Nice.”
    “Very.” His smile was sexy and wicked and laced with masculine satisfaction. “Mind telling me why you haven't done it before?”
    “Well, I tried. It just didn't work very well.”
    “I see.” He waited.
    “Three years ago there was a man. His name was Stewart. Stewart Bartlett. Stop me if you'd rather not hear all this.”
    “I'm listening.”
    “Stewart came to Witt's End because he needed this place.”
    “Why?”
    “He needed to heal. A lot of people come here for that reason. They stay for varying lengths of time. I told you, the world needs places like Witt's End.”
    Caleb opened his eyes and touched her mouth with his fingers. “Was he sick?”
    “Yes. Not in his body. In his mind. He'd lost his wife and son in the crash of a small airplane. Stewart was a pilot. He had been at the controls when the plane went down. He walked away from the wreckage without a scratch. And he couldn't forgive himself.”
    “So he came here to forget? And met