by Chloe Cole
Or maybe you like him.
“Yeah, a year and a half is way too long to make a baby,” she said, steering her thoughts back to the conversation at hand. “The women must be huge by the time they give birth.”
“Well, it is a long time, I’ll give you that,” Drake said with a chuckle. “But most females only bear one child in a lifetime. Maybe two, at most. Which is why our population is so small.”
He led her through the bedroom door before closing it behind them and, suddenly, the nerves that had been pickled in a pint of Scotch bobbed to the surface again.
It was bedtime.
If she had trouble keeping her hands off him before, how was she going to manage it now that she’d essentially neutralized all her defense mechanisms with alcohol?
She crossed the opulent room and lowered herself onto the very edge of the mattress, struggling for clarity. He’d said he wouldn’t take advantage of her, so that was something, at least.
If only she could be as sure that she wouldn’t take advantage of him in the middle of the night, that would be most excellent.
She thought back over the day while steadfastly ignoring Drake, who was rifling through his drawers for his nightclothes. If she overlooked the detail that she was still, in fact, a prisoner, it had been kind of…nice. When had she last spent hours on end talking to a sexy, charming guy who gave her his full attention the way Drake had?
Answer: Never.
And maybe that was something worth thinking about.
But now wasn’t the time for making any rash decisions. She’d be sober soon, an hour on the outside, due to her shifter metabolism. All she had to do was keep her hands off him for sixty more minutes, and she’d be back to her normal, disciplined self.
No problem.
“Here,” Drake called, and tossed a plastic bag her way. “The pajamas you got at the store.”
She snagged the bag and hightailed it to the bathroom, happy for an excuse to get some alone time to shore up her self-control.
“All right, kiddo,” she said to her reflection, which seemed to be weaving despite the fact that she herself was standing perfectly still. “Get your game face on. Sixty minutes. You can do sixty minutes in your sleep.”
She yanked off Drake’s oversized clothes and took out her new jammies, which consisted of a feather-soft t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. Totally boring and not sexy. Perfect.
Only, when she put them on, she was stunned to find that the t-shirt clung to her breasts like a second skin and her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric. She let out a squeak and rifled through the bag again until she found the sports bra she’d grabbed on a whim. One more layer between her and Drake.
She pulled off the shirt and wrestled the bra on before dressing again, and then looked in the mirror. Still super tight, but at least she couldn’t make out the exact shade of her nipples anymore.
She’d log that as a win.
She tossed Drake’s dirty clothes into the hamper in the corner and took a deep breath before instinctively fluffing her hair.
“Stop it,” she hissed at the mirror. She flattened her hair again just to prove a point, and then made her way to the door.
Fifty-eight minutes.
Fifty-eight minutes before she came to her senses and managed to recall exactly what her all-fired rush to escape was.
“I got us both a glass of water, if you’re thirsty,” Drake said as she stepped back into the bedroom.
She wanted to thank him, but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Dear Lord, was he fine. He stood by his side of the bed in a pair of gym pants and nothing else. His golden chest gleamed by the firelight, each sculpted muscle standing out in stark relief. He had a t-shirt in hand that he’d clearly been in the process of putting on, but he was frozen mid-motion.
“Willa?” he asked softly.
If someone gave her a stack of bibles, she would swear she didn’t know how she got there. One second, she’d been standing by the bathroom door, and the next she was two feet away from him with her hand outstretched, just an inch from his skin.
God, did she want to touch him. Wanted him to touch her.
The room spun as blood rushed to her head, and her breath went short.
“Willa.”
This time her name wasn’t a question. It was a growl of warning, but one she didn’t heed.
Instead, mesmerized, she gave into the urge and stroked her thumb over the pulse pounding furiously in his neck. “Yes?”
His strong throat worked as he stared down at her, the intensity of his gaze setting her aflame from head to toe.
“What are you doing?”
She inched closer, until the tips of their toes touched and her breasts brushed his bare chest. “Just realizing that we played Truth or Dare for hours and we never got to any dares.”
His jaw flexed once, then twice. “You’re drunk,” he murmured, still motionless but not moving away from her. “And the game is over.”
She ignored his words, her body on autopilot now, her wolf-driven instincts crowding out what little remained of her liquor-soaked willpower.
“One dare, Drake Blackbourne. I dare you to kiss me. Wild. No holds barred. Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”
His eyes flashed with an unearthly light and then, he was on her. His lips crushing hers as one arm hitched her flush against him and the other dove into her hair, holding her in place. He tasted like smoky scotch and pure need as his tongue stroked against hers.
She let out a whimper and went back at him with equal measure, refusing to hold back, even if it was only in this moment. She curled her arms around his neck and opened herself to him, ready to take whatever he wanted to give.
Her mind went blank and it was all feeling as her senses reeled. Every sound, every taste, every touch seemed like it was magnified a thousand-fold. Her breathing quickened to match his, and her hands clutched helplessly at his muscled shoulders as she struggled to keep her quivering legs under her.
His fingers tightened in her hair and he tugged sharply until she tossed her head back, baring her neck to him like a sacrificial lamb. He tore his mouth from hers and dove in with a groan, latching his teeth over the sensitive cord there hard enough to make her wince…and then groan as the pressure built between her thighs, and the ache became almost unbearable in the wake of that pleasure pain. She flexed her hips against him, crushing her pelvis to his rigid cock until she wanted to scream with the ecstasy of it.
“Drake,” she murmured, desperate for more. Dying to get closer.
She slipped a hand between them and cupped the thick ridge bulging in his gym pants. He arched his hips against her in a dance as old as the ages.
Her head hummed as he took a step forward and then another, until he’d crowded her back against the wall. Then, he took one wrist in each hand and lifted them over her head, pinning her in place, straightening to take her mouth again in a wild crush of teeth and tongues, as brutal and unforgiving as the stone wall at her back.
And she loved it.
The honesty. The hunger. Her wolf fairly howled with the rightness of it. He slid one hand lower to cup her ass as he closed his teeth down on her bottom lip hard enough to make her gasp before laving the spot with his tongue.
Mindlessly now, she bit back, so hard she tasted blood, sweet, hot and rich on her tongue. She drew back, stunned into a stupor at her own aggression.
“Drake, I’m sorry, I-”
“It’s fine.” His face was so tense, his jaw could’ve cut glass, and his eyes were hot and fevered. And then suddenly, she was alone. Standing with her back pressed against the wall, breath sawing in and out of her lungs, heart pounding hard enough to hear it in the next room.
She shook her head to clear it as Drake crossed the room to stand by his side of the bed again. She blinked at him owlishly, trying to put together what had happened.
“You got your kiss, little wolf. Has your curiosi
ty been satisfied?” he asked softly as he stroked his thumb over his bottom lip to wipe away the droplet of blood beading there.
Satisfied? Not even close. In fact, she’d never felt so dissatisfied in her life. Her whole body pulsed with unrequited need. As for Drake, she could still see the outline of his cock jutting out from between his hips but his voice was calm and measured, and his face was devoid of expression at all.
Was he truly so unaffected? Or had she turned him off with her uninhibited reactions?
“Drake, I-”
“Look, we’ve been drinking, and we both need to get some rest. It’s been a long few days.”
She was still standing there watching him as he donned the t-shirt he’d discarded during their embrace and then climbed into the bed.
“Goodnight, little wolf,” he murmured.
And then? He rolled to his side and promptly started to snore.
The next few days were an exercise in avoidance.
While Drake worked in his study conducting dragon-y business, she spent her mornings exploring the keep and her afternoons in the library trying to keep her mind occupied with anything besides Drake’s kiss. The history of shifters--and dragons in particular--was so interesting, that at points, she actually managed to let herself get lost in the past, swept away by the tales in the ancient leather tomes that filled the room.
Then dinnertime would roll around and she had no choice but to come back to reality and face Drake, along with the fact that she’d tried to molest him.
Again.
But if dinners went by slow, the nights moved at a crawl. Once they got under the sheets, even pathetic attempts at conversation seemed to cease, and the only sound breaking the thick silence between them was the second-hand on the grandfather clock as it tick, tick, ticked.
It was agonizing. Waiting. Remembering the way his hands felt on her skin. Wondering if he was going to touch her. Wishing he would, without her having to be the one to break and reveal how very much she wanted him.
Again.
“How was your afternoon?” Drake asked, as he joined her at the dinner table, derailing her chaotic thoughts.
She swallowed hard and met his gaze. As usual, something shifted inside her and went to mush as she stared at him.
Lord, he was handsome. All dark hair and piercing eyes. So often she found herself staring at him, unable to look away. And it seemed the same for him. She’d caught him watching her a dozen times, his heated gaze following the movement of her lips as she spoke, or trailing over the line of her breasts as she bent to retrieve something.
He wanted her, still.
So what was the deal, and why had he been treating her like a visiting nun since they’d kissed? They’d been sleeping in the same bed and had woken up more than once entwined with one another. And every single time, he’d disengaged, polite as could be, all but patting her on the head before leaving the bed altogether and going to take his morning shower.
Maybe it was time to risk some middle-of-the-night recon and see if she could find his car keys so she could get out of there before she did something truly stupid, like start begging him.
She forked up a piece of the pot roast she’d made and popped it into her mouth, chewing the meat that had looked delicious before her wayward thoughts but now seemed tasteless.
“It was a good reading day, actually. I’m right in the middle of the Holy Wars. Dragon King Gerhardt is debating whether or not to just eradicate the human race and be done with it.” She took a long pull from her wine glass and forced a chuckle. “He’s a bloodthirsty one.”
Drake inclined his head and smiled. “He is at that. But Allesandra will soon have him in hand.”
“Don’t tell me!” Willa said, dropping her fork to clap her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to spoil the mystery of how it all ends up until I read it myself. I should be done tomorrow and then we can talk about it.”
He held up a hand in surrender and set his own fork down. “All right, take it easy. I’m not going to spoil it for you.” He swiped the snowy white napkin over his unyielding mouth. “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised to find you so interested.”
His green gaze locked with hers and she barely suppressed a shiver. Instead of breaking eye contact and looking away like she would normally do, she held fast. It would be far too humiliating to make the first—second—wait, third move, but maybe if he saw that she wasn’t as opposed to the possibility of the two of them together as she was before, he’d…
“I was thinking we’ll make our trip to the mall tomorrow, and spend the day in Bozeman, if that’s good with you. I have the chance to acquire an ancient dragon sculpture and I need to verify its authenticity. After that, we can do some shopping and get dinner.”
She nodded, distracted as she digested his words.
Bozeman. Tomorrow.
Drake pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some more work to do tonight. I’ll be at it until late, so whenever you’re ready, you can turn in without me. I can get the dishes later.”
A pang of regret tugged at her insides and she forked up another bite of pot roast.
What the hell was the matter with her? They were going to the mall. She’d just been wishing for a chance to run and this would be the perfect time to make a break for it. At a mall packed with weekend shoppers, she would only need a few seconds to slip away and then douse herself in perfume samples to throw him off her scent.
From there, it would just be a matter of blending with the crowd until she got out the door. Gallatin National Park was only a mile away. Once she hit the tree line, she’d be a ghost.
“Sure, the mall sounds good.” She swallowed hard, ignoring the sudden ache in her throat. “I’ll take care of the dishes, you go ahead and do your work.”
“Okay, thanks.” He gave her a long, searching look, and seemed to want to say more, but then snapped his mouth shut with a nod before turning on his heel and walking out.
Once he was gone, she let herself slump forward and rested her head in her hands. What had he been about to say? Damn, what she wouldn’t give to be able to read his mind. Even now, her skin tingled from the heat of his gaze.
It was high time to start skipping the dragon history books and start reading some books on dragon biology, because clearly, they had something working for them. Maybe some sort of sexual chemical ooze…a hormonal concoction they gave off to lure idiots into their clutches, like Venus flytraps.
She made a mental note to look into that the next time she was in the library. In the mean time, she had dishes to do. And afterward? She was going to take a long, hot bubble bath. If anything could soothe her jangled nerves, it would be that.
By the time she flopped onto the bed a couple hours later, her skin was prune-y and soft and her eyelids were heavy. The lack of any real sleep over the past few nights was finally catching up to her, thank god. Maybe she’d actually get some rest, and if ever there was a time she needed to be rested, it was tonight.
Because tomorrow she was going to need every bit of her strength.
She had to escape from a dragon.
Chapter Thirteen
Splash.
Willa’s lashes fluttered open and she peered around the dark room blearily, in search of the sound that had woken her. The neon numbers on the clock read 3:14, and she instinctively looked to her side, noting Drake’s still undisturbed pillow.
Another soft noise from across the room caught her ear and she sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over her sleep-filled eyes.
At first, she didn’t see him, but then she caught sight of his dark head clearing the surface of the infinity pool. He only stayed above water for a second before diving down again, underneath the giant pane of glass that acted as a wall between the indoor half of the pool and the rest that lay outdoors.
For a moment, she lay there, paralyzed with indecision. She had no swimsuit and it was the middle of the night. If she got i
nto the pool and swam out there to join him, she was essentially giving in. Practically begging him to ravage her. Was that truly what she wanted?
She watched as he broke through the water’s surface again and stood, tall and strong in the shallow end of the pool. The moon lit his body like a kiss of magic and her pulse pounded at the sight. Thick shoulder muscles bulged as he lifted his arms and ran both hands through his wet hair.
Then, he turned, giving her an unimpeded view of his back. What she wouldn’t give to dig her fingers into him as he slid into her, taking her to the place that had been haunting her since that first night…
Would she give up her freedom?
Her ability to choose?
Was that what being with him would mean? Losing herself and surrendering to a fate decided for her?
Drake picked that very moment to turn and they locked gazes through the window. She used every ounce of brainpower to will him closer. To lure him back under the glass wall to come to her. But he stayed stock-still and her pulse pounded out of control as the puzzle pieces all fell into place. He wasn’t turned off by her bite, or unaffected at all.
“I need the words this time, little wolf.”
He’d said it himself from the first night. He wasn’t going to sleep with her until she came right out and told him she wanted him.
Sober. Awake. And without excuses.
She was at a crossroads, and some part of her knew with absolute clarity that her choice here would change everything. She thought of her mother, and then her father. Then she thought of Grey and Maggie, and the rest of her packmates. It already seemed so long ago. Like the distant and fuzzy past.
This was her present. Did she want Drake in her future? Her emotions were too volatile to know for certain. But she was tired of wanting. Sick to death of needing and coming up empty. In this moment, all she could think of was Drake.
She shut off her human brain and listened to her wolf instincts. And then, she shimmied to the edge of the bed and rolled to her feet.
Drake never took his eyes off her as she padded, barefoot across the floor to the edge of the pool. She let her lids drift closed as she reached down and grasped the hem of her nightshirt, lifting it over her head in one motion and then tossing it aside. Her pajama bottoms quickly followed, and a moment later, she was as naked as the day she was born.