Dragon's Mail Order Bride (West Coast Water Dragons Book 2)

by Kayla Wolf

  God, he really knew what he was doing, she thought with the fragment of her conscious mind that wasn’t completely consumed with the passion running rampant through her body. She reached down to run her fingers through his close-cropped dark hair, using her hands to guide him to her more sensitive spots… a quick learner, too, she thought with approval as he made immediate adjustments. It wasn’t long before she was writhing and gasping, pressing her back against the wall to buck her hips harder against his face—and she gasped as she felt the dresser rocking ominously beneath her. This was getting dangerous… but she couldn’t bring herself to stop him from doing what he was doing, not when she was getting so close… just another few minutes—

  Then she felt it. Just as her orgasm was about to tip over the line into inevitability, she felt the dresser—which was already balanced precariously on its back corners—begin to give way. She took a breath to scream, her body tensing as she imagined the worst, but before the dresser could go crashing to the ground, Bryce had scooped her into his arms again, bearing her effortlessly up and away from the carnage. She giggled breathlessly as the dresser fell to the ground behind them—but there was no time to consider the sound it had made, the no-doubt scandalous conclusions their neighbors must be coming to in the adjoining rooms because Bryce was kissing her hard. Her dress was gone, she realized dizzily—how had he managed that particular sleight of hand?—and his pants were halfway down too. She pulled away long enough to sneak a glance and resisted the urge to grin like a Cheshire cat at the long, hard shape outlined against his boxers.

  Then they were in bed. Bryce pulled the covers over them—not that Jasmine was feeling cold. Even in her underwear, the heat of her desire was keeping her well and truly comfortable. She lost herself in Bryce’s arms, the sensation of his body against hers, the press of his manhood against her thigh... but she wanted more. Needed more. She’d never felt this kind of urgency in lovemaking before, this all-consuming need to have him inside her… she’d always thought the descriptions in her romance novels were exaggerations. But now, with Bryce in her arms, the heat of his body, the musky, masculine scent of him overwhelming her… she was beginning to suspect that those romance authors had been onto something.

  And then, arranged by the wordless maneuvering of their bodies, the breathless gasps of need, their grasping, impatient hands… he lined up their bodies and slid himself to the hilt inside her. As close as he’d already brought her to the edge, it was almost too much—she groaned, resisting the urge to let her eyes roll back in her head, wrapped both legs firmly around his waist and used every muscle in her powerful body to draw him deeper inside her. The pace they set was frantic—she could hear the bedhead slamming against the wall with the force of their lovemaking, all of Bryce’s amazing strength pounding into her, again and again, driving pleasure deep inside her with every thrust. She couldn’t control the desperate sounds she was making, and neither could he, judging by the low growls he was uttering in her ear with every movement of his hips.

  And though she was trying to hold herself back, trying to suppress her own climax until he, too, was on the edge, it just wasn’t an option. Her hands clenched tight around his muscular shoulders (distantly, she knew her manicured nails were going to leave a mark), and she pressed her face against his throat to muffle a scream as her orgasm rushed over her in a wash of blinding white light. He mustn’t have been far behind her—or had he been holding off too, waiting for her? Either way, she felt his motions grow frantic, and he uttered a long and unbelievably sexy moan as he spent himself deep inside her.

  They fell asleep there, in a tangle of blankets and sweat, and in the last few moments before sleep claimed her, all Jasmine could think was that a mail order marriage was the best decision she’d ever made.

  Chapter 7 – Bryce

  It had been a long time since Bryce had woken up in an unfamiliar bed. It was the smell that was different, at first—he took a deep breath as his eyes flickered open, surprised by the odd combination of rose petals and sandalwood. It was even more unusual to wake up with a gorgeous woman asleep on his shoulder. He’d already begun to stir—but he froze, now, not wanting to disturb her, and took a moment to appreciate her sleeping face. Her makeup had smudged a little, either in her sleep or during their lovemaking, but it only made her look more beautiful. He looked down at her for a long moment—then quickly shut his eyes when he felt her stirring, no doubt awoken by the steady creep of sunlight across the hotel room floor.

  He felt her sit up beside him and used that motion as an excuse to feign his own waking-up ritual, not wanting her to think he’d been staring at her in her sleep (even though he absolutely had been.) She gave him a sleepy smile and wished him a good morning, and he was so struck dumb by the sight of her—still naked, the sheet wrapped around her chest and her long chestnut hair tumbling over her bare shoulders—that he could barely bring himself to speak. A guarded look flickered across her face, and she got to her feet.

  ”I’m going to have a shower before we check out, okay?”

  He bit his lip as she shut the bathroom door behind her, annoyed with himself. He should have said something. But what could you say to a woman like that, when she was looking like something straight out of a magazine? He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, to freak her out… but saying nothing at all was also clearly a bad plan. James would know, he thought irritably. Maybe he should have confided this particular scheme to his more extroverted friends—they could have given him some advice. Being the strong silent type was all very well—until it started getting in the way of a relationship he wanted to make work.

  Because their connection, after last night, was undeniable. He knew she felt it too—he could tell by the look in her eyes, that mixture of surprise and recognition that mirrored his own feelings. He’d felt strangely drawn to her ever since he’d seen her picture, but their lovemaking… they were made for each other, it was as simple as that. His body was stirring just thinking about it, revisiting the memories from the night before. Bryce had been with plenty of women during his time on the road… it was a pleasant enough way to spend a night, a bit of company and companionship, but never in his life had one of those entanglements felt anything like this. This was something new.

  And he couldn’t block out the memory of his mother, telling him all about what it felt like to meet your soulmate. How perfect they would be for you, how well they would fit—as though you were two pieces of the same puzzle…

  But how could that be, when she was a human, and he was a dragon?

  The worry stopped him from being able to talk to her much when she emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel with that sweet sandalwood smell swirling around her. It must have been her shampoo. Ask her about her shampoo, Bryce. Tell her it smells nice, he urged himself—but something stopped him. What if she thought it was weird that he’d been smelling her? So instead, he just led her to the car, carrying her suitcase for her. At least he managed to open all the doors for her. That felt like the right thing to do, and she thanked him sweetly each time.

  God, what was he going to do about this? The more he got to know her, the more tongue-tied he felt around her… and the quieter he got, the more she seemed to recoil from him, clearly reading his silence as hostility or disinterest.

  He did his level best on the drive to say as much as he could about the scenery—but there were only so many things to point out about the California coastline. She leaned against the door, peering out of the window at the trees blurring by, and Bryce wished he’d paid more attention to Emerson’s detailed rants about the wildlife of northern California so he could at least tell her something interesting.

  They reached the turnoff to the peninsula in the mid-afternoon, and he glanced over to Jasmine, who’d been listening to music on her phone. Sensing his attention, she looked up, and he felt himself struck dumb again by those bright, gorgeous hazel eyes.

  ”Not long to go now,” he managed. “This is the pen
insula I told you about. No other inhabitants, just my… family.”

  ”Oh, yes? Do your parents live here?”

  ”Not that kind of family,” he said quickly. The less he said about his parents, the better. She might want to see photos—and how would she react when she saw that Bryce’s mother looked like a woman of twenty-five? Among dragons, it was no issue… but among humans, that would be cause for great concern. “My—chosen family. I’ll introduce you soon,” he said, feeling a pang of worry. None of the guys knew Jasmine was coming—he’d firmly put that on the ‘deal with it later’ pile. But later was now, and he felt worry deep in his gut when they pulled into his driveway. He didn’t want anyone to meet her until he’d had a chance to get her settled, and to figure out how he was going to tell them about her. What if they dropped by to visit? He’d organized two days off work, but that didn’t mean his friends wouldn’t want to drop by to see him…

  But thankfully, the coast was clear as he carried Jasmine’s suitcase into the cottage, moving fast. The frown on her face told him that his haste hadn’t gone unnoticed, but he didn’t know how to explain it to her. No worries, babe, I just don’t want my friends to meet you until I’ve had a chance to explain that they can’t tell you that they’re all fifteen-foot dragons.

  “This is beautiful,” she said now, with the kind of tone that suggested she was putting aside her concerns and focusing on the positive. “You seriously built this place?”

  They were standing in his living room—he was hovering with her suitcase in hand, feeling a little awkward now that she was actually here. He’d imagined what it would be like a few times, of course… but those daydreams had been a lot vaguer than this concrete reality.

  ”I had help,” he said, shrugging. “And it’s only a start. I’d like to expand it a little, put in a hall and maybe an extra room or two—”

  ”For a family,” she agreed, glancing over to him—and he froze, completely at a loss for what to say, his heart leaping into his throat. The thought of starting a family with her was… incredible. But he didn’t want to rush that conversation. What if she was only being polite? Again, that look of guardedness crept across her face, and she turned away from him, leaving him furious with himself again.

  The tour was a short one. She approved of the kitchen, its efficient layout—he felt a glow of pride at that. “Took me ages,” he said, trying not to seem too smug. “I did research and everything.”

  ”Worth it.” She moved through to the dining room—and her eyes widened. “You did not make this table.”

  ”I did.”

  ”Bryce, it’s beautiful!” She reached out to touch it, running her hands across its smooth surface—he smiled, knowing from detailed experience how smooth it was. Carefully sanded for hours, the wood treated with oil… he’d taken good care with this particular project, that was for sure.

  “An old tree fell a few years after we moved here,” he said, thinking back. “Beautiful thing—seemed a shame to use such an old trunk for firewood. So we all took some big pieces. Emerson’s bed frame is made from the same tree, and I think Harvey took some for his kitchen cabinets…”

  ”Speaking of beds,” Jasmine said, raising an eyebrow. “Where’s ours?”

  Ours, he thought dizzily, warmth spreading through his chest and rising to his cheeks in a blush. “Well. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to share—”

  ”We’re husband and wife, aren’t we? We’re meant to do stuff like that.” She hesitated. “I mean, only if you want to. I’m happy to sleep elsewhere if you want—”

  ”No! No, you can sleep in my bed,” he said hastily. “Our bed. Of course. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to. So there’s a spare room and a spare bed. It’s your choice.”

  ”I’d like to sleep with you if that’s alright,” she said, giving him another one of those heart-stopping smiles. He didn’t trust himself to speak—his reservoir of words, never a particularly deep one, had already dried up. So he just carried her suitcase through to his bedroom, where the neatly-made double bed was waiting.

  ”The chest of drawers is half-empty,” he said as she followed him in. “So you’re welcome to use as much space as you like. I don’t have many clothes.”

  ”Well, I have lots, so that works well,” she smiled. “Wardrobe?”

  ”Oh. I don’t have one.” He blinked. “Do you need—”

  ”Well, I have a few dresses I’d like to hang up, but…” She shrugged. “It’s okay. I can just fold them.”

  ”I’ll build you one,” he said and was rewarded by a dizzying smile.

  ”Really?”

  ”Of course.” Come on, Bryce, you can do it. Say something nice. “Only the best for my wife.”

  She laughed, a musical sound, and for a moment he felt such acute relief that he almost fell over. He could do this. He was capable of this. She was everything he’d ever dreamed of in a woman—it was up to him now to do whatever it took to make her happy. She was here, she seemed to like his house well enough, and god, their chemistry was absolutely out of this world. He could work on the rest. Like being more communicative. Like telling his friends and family about her. Like—and this was a big one—telling her that he was technically a different species to her. How was she going to take it, he wondered, watching her unpacking her clothing and humming to herself? It was a big enough ask to expect a woman like that to love a man like him… let alone a man who was also a dragon.

  He took a deep, steadying breath. He’d just have to take it one step at a time.

  Chapter 8 - Jasmine

  This place was so unbelievably quiet. That was the thing that stuck out most to Jasmine as she settled into her new home—the quiet. Back in Denver, she’d lived on such a busy street that even in the middle of the night, she was always kept company by the dull roar of traffic. Out here, there was nothing. From what Bryce had explained to her, the little community set up at the base of this peninsula was so close-knit that there was no need to drive anywhere—everyone else’s house was within walking distance, so unless they needed to head to the mainland or transport significant quantities of building materials around, everyone just walked. So the rumble of a car on the dirt roads outside was fairly unusual.

  But as Jasmine settled in, she realized that traffic hadn’t been replaced by silence. There were all kinds of sounds when she listened for them—the wind through the thick trees, the sounds of birds and wildlife, and under it all, just within earshot, the low and constant roar of the ocean. It was gorgeous. And it was nice to have something to listen to, she had to admit, frowning a little to herself. Bryce was handsome, strong, and absolutely dynamite in bed—but in terms of conversation, he left a little to be desired. It wasn’t that she minded strong, silent types. Jasmine quite enjoyed the feeling of quiet, the kind of comfortable intimacy that allowed long stretches of time to go by without a word being spoken. But that wasn’t exactly what was going on, was it? No matter how hard she tried to shake it, she couldn’t help but feel that Bryce was hiding something from her. That his strong, silent exterior was hiding some kind of secret.

  Could it be about her? Had she disappointed him, somehow? What if she wasn’t what he’d been promised by whatever Elena had written on her profile? She’d tried to open up the app again to scroll through and see what promises had been made about her, but with their ‘marriage’ already underway, it seemed that the agency had removed both of their profiles from view on the site. All she had to go on was what he said and how he acted. And that was frustratingly hard to read. If it wasn’t for how powerful their sexual connection had been, she’d be worried that he wasn’t attracted to her. But it wasn’t possible to fake something like that, something like the absolutely wild night they’d spent together. Was it? He hadn’t seemed especially keen for her to share his bed... but had that been out of disinterest in having more sex with her, or had he just been trying to be polite?

  She ground her teeth, frustrated. The problem with strong, s
ilent types like Bryce was that they were maddeningly hard to read. And she didn’t want to start off their relationship—their marriage, because that was what it was—by asking him a bunch of nagging, prying questions about whether he liked her or not. What if he liked her just fine until she drove him crazy with questions? No. She’d be strong. She’d remember that she was gorgeous, strong, funny, charismatic, and everything a guy could possibly want in a wife… and remind herself that if he felt differently, then that was his problem.

  Besides, even if he decided he didn’t want her and sent her away at the end of the month… that still gave her a full four weeks to take advantage of this beautiful place.

  He showed her around his garden after she’d unpacked. He continued to impress her—it was an extensive garden, with all kinds of herbs, fruits, and vegetables growing in carefully tended plots. The icing on the cake was heading back inside to discover that he was already cooking dinner for them both—a delicious quiche, hearty and warm, with a salad on the side.

  ”The eggs came from my chicken coop,” he explained as they ate, and she smiled a little, sensing a spark of enthusiasm in him as he warmed to his subject. His garden was clearly quite important to him. “Most of the other ingredients grew in the garden, too—the whole salad, and most of the vegetables in the quiche. The pastry and the cheese are from a mainland store, but I’m thinking of getting some goats and learning how to make cheese from their milk.”

  ”Wow,” she said, a little taken aback. “I’ve never grown anything more complicated than a cactus.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said seriously, his eyes on her face. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  ”That’s kind,” she said hesitantly, “but… I mean, won’t I get bored if I’ve got nothing to do? I’m a quick learner. Put me to work,” she joked. “I’m pretty good at running people’s lives for them, is there anyone in town who needs a PA?”