by Day Leclaire
She whirled to confront him, the skirt of her dress flaring around her, the hem catching at his legs as though eager to embrace him. She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “No names,” she whispered urgently. “I’m crashing the party and if I get caught, you can honestly say you don’t know who I am. That way you won’t get into trouble, too.”
Aw, hell. He didn’t dare admit he was a Dante now. “Are you here to steal something?”
Astonishment mingled with shock. No way could she have faked that look. “No, of course not.”
“That’s good.” Very good. “How about first names? People do exchange them, you know, even when they’re crashing parties.” Because of his position as Dantes’ head gemologist, he was extremely careful to keep his rather unusual name out of the spotlight, so she shouldn’t connect it with the Dante family.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth and the top of his head almost came off. More than anything he wanted that sweet, succulent lip captured between his own teeth. “I guess that can’t hurt,” she conceded. “I’m Shayla.”
“Draco,” he said. “Draco-with-no-last-name.”
“Oh, dear.” She offered a teasing smile. “Did your parents dislike you?”
“What, Draco?” He returned her smile with a rueful one of his own. “It’s a family name. My mother’s maiden name. I also had it long before Harry Potter came out, in case you were wondering.”
“It means dragon, doesn’t it?”
“Afraid so.”
A hint of hesitation flowed across her expression. “And are you?”
“A dragon?” He pondered the idea. “I can be when it’s important to me. If someone takes what I consider mine.”
“Then I’ll have to make sure I avoid taking anything you value.”
“Always a wise move.”
He decided to experiment and shifted closer to see how Shayla would respond. Her reaction was so subtle, he almost missed it. But he caught it. Definitely there. The thick fringe of her eyelashes flickered ever so slightly and tension swept across her shoulders. It didn’t make sense to him. Why hide it? If it were anything similar to what he felt right this minute, she should be falling all over him.
The Inferno—assuming it really was The Inferno, and he still had his doubts about that—clouded rational thought, driving a man to find a way to touch the woman he craved, to inhale her. To carry her off and bury himself in her until neither of them could move or think or breathe.
“Why are you fighting it?” he asked in an undertone.
“Fighting what?”
This time she couldn’t hide the lie and he didn’t waste time arguing. Before she realized his intention, he caught her hand in his. Heat flared between them, more intense this time, pouring into his veins like effervescent champagne. Every beat of his heart drove it further and deeper, strengthening the connection until it threatened to overpower him.
“Shayla . . .”
He whispered her name into the few inches of space separating them, filling the sound with every ounce of the desire he felt. Her lips parted and her breathing quickened. She swayed, yielding ever so slightly. He caught the subtle fragrance of her perfume, crisp and spicy with a dash of sultry thrown in. Somehow he suspected the scent epitomized the woman.
“What have you done to me?”
She asked the question with such bewilderment he flinched. “I’m sorry. It isn’t something I can control.”
“I don’t have time for this right now. Make it stop.”
Draco didn’t insult her with prevarication. “I wouldn’t even if I could. I want you, sweetheart. And I think you want me, too.”
She closed her eyes and he wondered if she were fighting the tug, that relentless, unyielding pull. Not that she could win this particular battle. At least, no one ever had.
“I have something else I need to take care of first,” she whispered.
He moved in, erasing those few inches that separated them, just close enough so hips and thighs brushed. Just enough so he felt the soft crush of her breasts against his chest. Just enough so his mouth hovered within a breath of her lips.
“Whatever you’re here for can wait. This can’t.”
She looked at him, enchanting him with an open display of pleasure and desire. She utterly captivated him. She was swift to smile, swifter to laugh, her movements like quicksilver, filled with energy, yet as graceful as a dancer’s. He wanted all that grace and energy in his bed. Wanted that magical sparkle for himself. Like a dragon hoarding his treasure, came the whimsical thought.
“I’ve never done this before. Never lost control or acted so impulsively,” she admitted.
“I’m wish I could say the same. Tell me you’re not going to fight what we’re feeling.”
Her mouth quivered on the verge of a smile. “I’m not sure I could.”
He bent his head and feathered a kiss along her jawline. “That makes two of us. So, instead of crashing this very boring party, why don’t you sneak away with me? I promise I won’t bore you.”
She shuddered in reaction. Then her smile blossomed and the soft sound of her laughter made it clear that whatever connection they’d forged during these brief moments together had won.
The day had already been an interesting one. First, he’d received a phone call from Dantes’ in-house investigator, Juice, with news that another fire diamond had been found—the fourth of six that had been stolen from Draco in a clever swindle a full decade before. This new information gave him one more opportunity to find the person behind the con.
And now the most beautiful woman Draco had ever seen had walked into the reception and blew his earlier convictions about The Inferno straight out of the water. Or, maybe it wasn’t The Inferno. Maybe it was just a bad case of lust or a sexual lightning bolt of some kind.
“What is this?” she asked. Her voice, though low, carried a wealth of passion flavored with a sweet Southern warmth. Georgia? Or perhaps South Carolina. “And why you and not some other man here?” She gestured to indicate the milling crowd. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
The thought of Shayla giving herself to someone else filled Draco with a ferocity that he could barely wrestle into submission. “I don’t know how or why we formed this connection,” he admitted. “Not exactly. But if it makes you feel any better, it’s the same for me.”
He couldn’t resist. He had to touch her. He skimmed the tips of his fingers along the inside of her forearm from elbow to wrist in a silent demand. Come with me. It was like touching a silken thread of fire. She shivered in response and swayed toward him, giving him an equally silent answer. Sliding his arm around her waist, he drew her through the doorway of the reception area and down a long corridor toward a bank of private elevators. He used his key to call the car and the minute the doors parted, they stepped inside. He inserted his key again to access the top floor, which housed four private penthouse suites.
She frowned when she realized which button he’d pushed. “Where are we going?”
“Up.” The single-word answer didn’t satisfy her, but right now it took every ounce of focus and determination to keep his hands off her.
“And what is up there?”
“Dantes maintains suites for visiting clients from out of town who are anxious to exchange their millions for one of Dantes’ premier collections. I’m staying in one temporarily.” For some reason the information caused her to relax ever so slightly. “It also gives us a place where we can discuss our situation without the risk of interruption.”
“Just discuss?”
He gave it to her straight. “That depends.”
She tilted her head to one side. “On what?”
“On what we want to do about this.” He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together in order to make his point.
She drew in a sharp breath, her dark eyes flaming with desire. “What is that?” she asked unevenly. “And this time I expect an answer. A straight answer, if you don’t
mind.”
Fortunately, the doors parted before he had to try to put it into words. The instant they stepped off the elevator, he tugged at her hand, drawing her across the foyer to a door leading to his penthouse suite. His stay there was a temporary situation during the planning and building stages of his new home. Only one of the other three suites was currently occupied, housing the King and Queen of Verdonia, rulers of the country that supplied Dantes with the most beautiful amethysts in the world. Many of the Eternity rings on display this evening featured their gemstones.
Fumbling with his keys, Draco found the correct one. He shoved it into the lock, and managed to get the door open and the appropriate alarm code entered before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her across the threshold. He didn’t bother to analyze the symbolism of his actions. His main concern was to lock the two of them away while he coaxed her into the nearest bed. Assuming he lasted long enough to find his bed.
He carried her through to the expansive living room, one that offered views of both the city and the bay. Setting her on her feet, he took her clutch purse and tossed it in the general direction of the couch. It bounced on the cushion and then somersaulted onto the floor.
She started in alarm. “No, wait. My purse—”
“—will be there in the morning.”
He reached for her, but she held up a hand before he could pull her back into his arms. She shot an uneasy glance in the direction her purse had taken. She must have decided it was safe enough for the time being because she returned her focus to him.
“Just wait a moment, Draco.” He loved the way her voice caressed his name, drawing it out and layering a soft Southern hitch onto the two syllables. “You said you would explain what caused that spark when we first touched. Before this goes any further, I want to know how you did that.”
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He spoke with utter sincerity. “It wasn’t deliberate.”
She stared at her hand, rubbing her palm with her thumb, before eyeing him warily. “It hasn’t gone away.”
“It will.” He hoped.
She lifted an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, is it?”
“Our family calls it The Inferno,” he reluctantly admitted, deliberately not using his last name in case it scared her off. “When we’re intensely attracted to certain women, it causes that sort of reaction.”
“Certain women?” She wavered between outrage and curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”
He hesitated, aware a deep pit yawned in front of him. He chose his words with care, hoping they’d help him skirt disaster. “Women we want. Women we’re intensely attracted to. At least, I’m assuming that’s what generated the sparks between us. To be honest, it’s never happened to me before.”
“Got it.” Her mouth twitched. “It’s your version of a mating call.”
It was his turn to feel a flash of outrage, though one edged with amusement. “Hell, at least I’m not bugling and pawing the ground,” he muttered.
“You just roar and breathe fire?” she suggested with a teasing laugh.
“Only with you.” If the words contained a growling hint of that roar, he couldn’t help it. She’d just have to be grateful he didn’t spew flames.
He waited. All the while the want flared higher and stronger than ever before. She was right. If he could roar and breathe fire, he’d do it. Hell, if it meant winning her for his mate, he’d sprout wings and carry her off to the nearest lair, assuming such a thing existed.
He saw her soften and realized he’d avoided the trap. Better yet, she came into his arms as though she belonged, which on some level she did. Maybe on every level.
It was his last rational thought for a long time.
He cupped her face and then paused to appreciate the moment. Her lips parted in anticipation, damp and full, while desire openly shaped her expression. No pretense. No hesitation. Just pure passion freely offered. She was beyond lovely. And yet, even as he studied her, a hint of bewilderment filled her eyes with a sooty darkness.
“Are you having second thoughts?” she asked.
“Not a single one.”
“Oh.” Her expression revealed a heart-wrenching vulnerability. “I thought you were going to kiss me now that Inferno problem is out of the way. But you haven’t.”
“Ah, but this is a first kiss.”
She considered his words. “And that makes a difference?”
“It makes a huge difference.” He continued to scrutinize her face. “A first kiss . . . You remember that one. It makes an indelible impression. It deserves the proper amount of thought and consideration. For instance, are you the sort of woman who likes a slow, leisurely exploration? Should I sample your mouth the way I would taste a new dish, in small cautious bites?”
“That’s a definite possibility,” she agreed.
He tilted his head to one side and shook his head. “But not quite right for you. Maybe this hunger between us needs to be fed fast. Attacked. Wrestled into submission with hard, explosive kisses.”
The breath shivered from her lungs. “Tempting . . .” The word escaped on a sigh of longing.
“More tempting than you can imagine,” he admitted. “But still not right for a first kiss. Hard and fast will come later.”
A hint of amusement mingled with her longing. “But it will come?”
“Without question.”
“And for our first kiss?” A thread of urgency spun through her question.
“Kissing you will be like sampling a rare wine.” He leaned in, so close their lips almost touched. “First, there’s the appearance. The color and sparkle. The deep, rich ebony of your eyes. The way they glitter against your pale skin.” He swept his thumbs across her cheeks. “The hint of roses.” His breath caressed her lips. “The blaze of rubies.”
“Funny. I see emeralds and gold.” Her smile blossomed, filled with enchantment. “And just a hint of amber.”
Is that how his eyes appeared to her? He lowered his head to the silken joining of shoulder and throat, warming it with his breath. “And next comes the scent, that delicious bouquet of flower and fruit and spice that floods the senses and drives the anticipation. And you do, sweetheart. You flood my senses.”
Her eyes fluttered closed as she breathed him in. “You smell like a forest, cedar mixed with an undertone of something earthy and highly masculine.”
His body clenched at the undisguised need rippling through her comment. “Do you like it?”
“Very much.” The words sighed from her, making it almost impossible to continue.
All he wanted was to take her—here and now—but he fought the urge, fought to seduce her inch by agonizing inch. “And then there’s that first taste,” he managed to say. He brushed his lips across hers, just the lightest of touches before drawing back. “A mere sample, to tease and delight.”
She followed where he led, lifting toward him, trembling in her urgency. “Taste me again, Draco. Now.”
This time he didn’t resist. He took her mouth, the taking firm and thorough, revealing a hint of the intense desire that drove him to the brink of insanity. She tasted sweet, honeysweet and warm, her hunger a perfect mirror of his own. Her lips were plump and soft and giving. And her skin . . . Heaven help him, he’d never touched anything so soft.
He cupped her shoulders, bared by the halter top, and tripped his fingertips along her collarbones. She shivered, her mouth parting on a moan. It was a clear offer to deepen the kiss, and he did just that, giving her a hint of hard and explosive. She returned his kiss with a passion he’d only suspected—and hoped—she possessed.
Her arms wrapped around his neck and she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer so she could give back with an intensity that practically brought him to his knees. The scent of her twined around him, while her mouth tempted and tantalized, dipping inward in brief enticing forays. He let her take the lead. For now. He wanted her to familiarize herself with him—his scent, his taste, his touch.
His possession.
Long minutes slid by while she satisfied that first wave of desire. Then she pulled back just enough to draw in a deep breath. She stared up at him and shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand any of this. I’ve never done this before. I mean never.”
“In that case, I appreciate being the first.”
“I’m glad I chose you.” Her expression turned impish. “After all, how often will I have a chance to sample such an excellent vintage?”
She made the comment with such grace and humor it utterly endeared her to him. She returned to his arms and the quality of their embrace changed, this time becoming more certain in the melding of male to female. More familiar with how their mouths fit together and how their bodies moved one against the other.
But it still wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until he had her in his bed, with nothing between them but hot, willing flesh, their bodies joined as man was meant to be joined with his woman.
And in that moment Draco knew. Knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Shayla was his Inferno
mate.
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Meet Day Leclaire
I love family first and foremost, which is why writing a family saga is so much fun. Maybe you can tell that from my books since they always feature the warmth and joy that comes from having a close-knit family. I also love animals and have taken in rescue dogs and cats and fostered dogs for the local animal shelter. And of course, I love writing. All I need is a functioning brain (batteries not included), a pen, and paper, and I can write anywhere. Please don’t let a conversation with me lag because my imagination takes over and I. Am. Checked. Out!
USA Today bestselling author, Day Leclaire is the author of more than 60 novels and has received an impressive eleven nominations for the romance industry's most prestigious award, Romance Writers of America RITA© Award. Day lives in Charlotte, NC and spends her days obsessively writing while vaguely remembering to pay attention to her adorable husband, busy son and daughter-in-law, two tiny grandchildren, and two even tinier Teddy Bear dogs. Not to mention a whole lot of dust!