The Dragon's Charm (Elemental Dragons Book 4)

by Emilia Hartley

  Chest heaving, Matt started to pull back, removing his mouth far enough from hers to let her breathe, but not stepping away. “I’m sorry, Ellie,” he breathed, still clutching her hips, his fingers digging into the top of her jeans. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I don’t care.” Desperate now, she pulled him to her again, letting her head fall back in ecstasy. Matt trailed kisses down her neck, lightly raking his teeth against her collarbone. She moaned against him, her fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

  She could feel the books and binders from the bookshelf digging into her back, but she didn’t mind. All she could think about was the feeling of his fingers slipping her sweater over her head, trailing over her back and coming to rest at the hem of her jeans. Ellie blindly reached for his shirt, dragging it off him and trailing her lips along his chest. He tasted of salt and man, and she marveled at the fact that she had gone so long without being with somebody. That she had gone her whole life without being with him.

  And how crazy was that? She had just met this guy, and now she was all over him? And yet, it was as if she had known Matt McKinnon her entire life. As if their souls were intertwined in a way she had yet to comprehend. There was a pull at her core when he looked at her with his clear blue eyes. The same blue eyes that had stared back at her filled with such an intense love that it left her as breathless as Elizabeth Hargrove had been in her dreams.

  But Matt McKinnon wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. He was flesh and blood and man and at the moment, he was stripping her out of her jeans until she was standing before him in nothing but lacy lingerie. A thrill of excitement raced over her skin and down her spine. For the first time in her entire life, Ellie felt reckless and impulsive, and not at all like herself.

  And she didn’t care one bit.

  Running her fingers through his hair, she raced her mouth along his jaw, suckling at his ear, delighted when she felt him inhale sharply. Throwing her head back again, she laughed. What a rush to be able to turn him on that way!

  Before she knew it, the lace was torn away. Matt ran his fingers along the slick, wetness of her, before driving her up. Ellie clutched at the shelves, knocking books to the floor. Still, he mercilessly pushed her to the brink of madness and over the edge.

  Breathing heavily, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her ankles clasped at his hips, letting him carry her to the desk. Matt ruthlessly cleared the desk of its clutter, sending books, papers, and even his laptop clattering to the floor. Hastily, he freed himself from the confines of his jeans and Ellie reached for him greedily, running her fingers from shaft to tip. He shuddered in her grasp.

  Matt fought with the clasp of her bra, drawing the straps vigorously down her arms as her breasts spilled from the lace. Just as he had in her dream, he took her into his mouth, and the simple touch of his lips combined with the rhythmic movement of his fingers, propelled her to orgasm once more.

  She couldn’t take it anymore. Desperate, she pulled him to her, gasping and moaning out loud when he plunged into her. His strokes were slow and steady, his member throbbing against her as he moved in and out of her once, twice. Painfully slow he stared down into her eyes and Ellie felt that connection once again. It was so strong and overwhelming that all she could do was hold on as he moved faster and faster, furiously pumping in and out of her, each thrust urging her to give in to the euphoria washing over her. Lost in passion, Ellie ran her fingers down his back, repressing a scream as he shuddered against her one last time and finally collapsed on her chest.

  Ellie couldn’t move. All she could feel, all she could hear, was Matt’s heavy breathing, his face tucked against her shoulder as she drew slow, soft circles along his shoulders. She was blissfully in shock. She had just had sex with a stranger in the backroom of a museum. The most daring thing she had ever done before that was pick up a man at a bar and go back to his apartment. That had been her one and only one-night stand.

  Until now.

  “Um,” she tried, suddenly self-conscious and unsure what to say. He only grunted in return. “Matt, I can’t breathe.”

  “Oh.” Reluctantly, he slid off her and Ellie curled up into a ball on his desk, clutching her knees to her chest. Matt reached for his jeans and smiled sheepishly at her, tossing her sweater to her. Embarrassed she clutched it to her chest.

  “So …did you feel that too?”

  “You mean, like it was someone else’s love affair we were sharing in?” Ellie clasped her bra into place. She was so grateful her voice was steady because she felt anything but.

  Matt grinned slyly. “Yeah, I meant that. What the bloody hell was that?”

  Trying not to show her mortification, Ellie tugged her sweater over her head, then got up to retrieve her jeans. She cleared her throat. “Look, Matt, I um, I don’t…well…” Why was it so hard to spit out? They were only words. Come on, just spit it out. “I don’t do things like this.” Much to her dismay, Matt chuckled. “No, seriously. Look, I know how cliché that sounds, but I really do not do things like this.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  Ellie pursed her lips, trying not to smile. “No, I don’t regret it.”

  Matt’s grin widened and he leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Good. Me neither.” His gaze was captivating, and she found herself lost in his eyes once again, completely unable to control the rush of emotion bringing heat to her face.

  Damn it, why was she blushing so much around him?!

  As quickly as she could, Ellie put on the rest of her clothes and zipped up her coat. “So, you’ll let me know if you find anything else on the Hargroves?” she asked, reaching for the door. She needed to get out of there, and fast. Otherwise she might humiliate herself by trying to jump him again. Her best friend, Alice, would be so proud.

  Matt cleared his throat again. “Yes, I will, uh, keep looking and let you know if I find anything.”

  “Great.” Opening the door, she stopped to glance over her shoulder at him. “And Matt?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thanks. For, um, everything.” Her cheeks a vibrant shade of red, Ellie dashed from the room as quickly as she could, leaving him with a goofy smile behind her.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ellie walked briskly down the sidewalk, her low heels clipping on the cement. She clutched her coat tighter around her neck to guard against the chill and gazed at the white cliff face looming in the distance. Well, that excursion had gotten awkward, quick. And hot, she admitted. Matt McKinnon was the definition of sexy, and sex with him was worth dreaming of. And against a bookshelf in a public place, no less. Granted, the door to his office had been closed, but it wasn’t locked and anyone could have come in. Although, that thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, if truth be told. And she wasn’t sure she would care if it had.

  Reaching the black sedan that Reginald had insisted she take, Ellie stepped back and let the driver open her door. She had never had a driver before—taxis didn’t count. It was exhilarating to know that she was now the one to pay his salary. And terrifying.

  The drive back to Dover didn’t take long, and Ellie spent most of it obsessing about Matt and the story of the Hargroves. Before she knew it, they pulled onto the circular drive in front of Hargrove House, and Arthur, the valet, rushed down the steps to open her door.

  Ellie beamed at him. “Thank you, Arthur.”

  “My pleasure, miss.” He seemed to be deciding whether or not to tell her something. “There is, er, well, Lord Dabney has come to call, Miss Ellie.”

  Alarmed, Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Again?”

  Arthur nodded. “Since earlier this afternoon. He’s been insistent that he speak with you.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Lead the way.”

  James Dabney stood in the foyer, looking annoyed, his hands shoved grumpily into the pockets of his navy wool coat. When he spotted Ellie, his face brightened considerably, though she wasn’t sure she was able to respond in kind.

  “Lo
rd Dabney,” she exclaimed, hoping she sounded pleased to see him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “James, please,” he replied, though she thought he actually liked hearing his title. “I came by today hoping to show you around Dover, however I see you have already done that.”

  She offered him an apologetic smile. “I have. We read my grandmother’s will this morning.”

  “I suppose you have found yourself a rich woman,” he declared. “You must be pleased.” When she tried, and failed to smile back, he changed tactics. “I also have tickets to the theater tonight. I was hoping you would accompany me.”

  “Oh!” How did she get out of this one politely? “That’s incredibly kind of you, James, but I fear I must decline. It’s been a long day, and I really should get some work done on my dissertation.” She tried to pretend the look in his eyes was disappointment, and not anger. “But thank you for the invitation. It really was kind of you.” The smile she gave was as genuine as she could make it. “Thank you for coming by, Lord Dabney. It’s always a pleasure to see you.” As quickly as she could, she stepped back toward the hallway, hoping to make a quick exit, but James grabbed her arm.

  “Don’t walk away from me,” he ordered through gritted teeth. Rage flashed in his dark eyes and his grip on her arm tightened. Fear rippled down Ellie’s spine, but when she tried to get away, his grip only got stronger. “I asked you to the theater.” His hand began to twist. “The least you could do is be gracious, since I went through all the trouble.”

  “James,” Ellie said, trying not to whimper. “You’re hurting me.”

  He held her gaze for one more terrifying moment, then released her as if he’d been burned. “My apologies, Ellie,” he said quietly, and all trace of the monster she had just seen was gone, replaced by mournful contrition. “I was out of line. I’ll see myself out.”

  Ellie waited until he was out of sight before dashing down the hallway and straight up to her room. It wasn’t until the door was shut and bolted that she sank down with her back against it really letting herself be afraid.

  Elizabeth stood next to Lord Dabney, politely saying nothing as he discussed the Regent’s latest ruling with her father. The energetic, lively spirit that had once animated her seemed to have disappeared, and the only time she really showed any life was when Dabney spoke to her. Her eyes would light up in adoration, and it was as if her whole world revolved around him.

  Guests milled around the edges of the ballroom, smiling, chatting, and sipping champagne, as they watched the dancers in the center perform the ever-popular English Country Dance. Across the room, Matthew leaned against the wall, glaring at the woman who had broken his heart.

  Elizabeth rubbed at her chest. Though she couldn’t say why, her heart ached in ways she had never encountered. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why Matthew McKinnon was staring at her that way, as if she were everything he had ever wanted, but couldn’t have, but it was unnerving, to say the least.

  Glancing up at Dabney, she gently tapped his arm. “I believe I shall take a turn around the garden,” she told him quietly.

  Dabney’s brows knit in concern. “My dear, are you alright?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Oh yes, quite,” she replied, fanning herself with a gloved hand. “It’s just a little warm in here. I believe the fresh air will do me some good.”

  Still watching her strangely, Dabney searched her face. Satisfied, he nodded. “Do not wander off,” he warned, then turned back to finish the conversation with her father.

  Elizabeth wasted no time in threading herself through the guests and out into the blessedly crisp air of the gardens. Her shoes crunched over gravel as she briskly made her way down the path to her favorite haunt.

  “Do not wander off,” she murmured waspishly under her breath as she turned the corner around a particularly high hedge. The house was now mercifully out of sight. “As if I were a child. Who does he think he is?” Pacing, Elizabeth kicked at the hedge in a fit of temper.

  Your fiancé, Dabney’s voice whispered across her mind. I am your fiancé, and you will be a dutiful wife and do as you’re told.

  Elizabeth scowled. For some reason, any time she became unhappy with her lot, she heard Lord Dabney speaking to her, almost as if he were right next to her. It was strange, truth be told. She knew he wasn’t actually speaking to her through her thoughts. That would mean she was quite mad. Yet, it still felt like he was there, especially whenever she began to have doubts regarding her love for him.

  She was being silly. Of course she loved Dabney. He was handsome, charming, and wealthy. If he combined the Dabney vineyards with the Hargrove Brewery business, their partnership would hold the majority for the spirits market. It was a lucrative match for both her father and Lord Dabney, with the added bonus that he claimed he was madly in love with her.

  Initially, the prospect of Lord Dabney as her husband was only appealing so far as it was her duty to her family as the eldest daughter to procure a lucrative marriage. Now…well, if she were being honest with herself, now it was as if her entire world revolved around him, sometimes even against her will. Her every waking thought was Dabney, Dabney, Dabney. She couldn’t even put on a simple dress without wondering whether or not he would like it. It was infuriating.

  She should be happy, shouldn’t she? She was in love with the man her father intended her to marry. A wealthy man, at that. Most girls were not that lucky. And yet, she could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.

  There were times that Lord Dabney scared her. There was a possessive maliciousness about the way he touched her, as if he alone could claim her. She supposed that sentiment was true, however it didn’t make it any less disturbing.

  “Elizabeth.”

  Turning, she was startled to see Matthew rounding the corner into the small cove where she stood. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, but his eyes were lit with a mixture of fiery passion and desperation. Reaching for her, he pulled her against him and cradled her head against his chest. “My love, I have been so worried. Why have you turned away from me? Have we been discovered?”

  Elizabeth felt her chest constrict with pain. Was that sorrow she was feeling? And why? Who was Matthew McKinnon to her and why on Earth did she feel so terribly drawn to him? Confused, she pulled away from him. “Matthew,” she whispered, suddenly fighting back tears, “why are you here?”

  “I had to see you, my love. My sweet Elizabeth. I couldn’t stand to be apart from you for even one more moment.” Suddenly, Matthew frowned. “But I see you do not feel the same. What have I done to offend you? Do you not love me anymore?”

  “Love you?” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Why would I love you? I am engaged to be married to Lord Dabney. I love him.” Yet, even as she said it, she could feel the lie within her words. She was engaged to be married, that was true, but she didn’t love him. Did she?

  Of course, you do, Dabney’s voice assured her once more. You are mine, and I am yours. This lowly Lord is nothing to you anymore. You are mine.

  Matthew looked as if she had run a sword through his heart. Despair filled his beautiful blue eyes and something inside Elizabeth broke. With a nod, Matthew turned to leave, and suddenly, the hold Lord Dabney had over her vanished.

  All she wanted at that moment was to feel Matthew’s hands against her. To feel their hearts beat as one as they had for the last few weeks. How could she have ever believed she loved Dabney? Handsome and charming though he may be, her feelings for him paled in comparison to the love she had for Matthew. He was her true love, her soul mate, and she was hurting him so.

  “Matthew, please,” she said, her voice aching with desperation. When he stopped, her heart began to race. “Please don’t go. I know we can never be together, not really. My hand is promised to another, and my father will never relent. But my heart, my heart will always be yours. Just as I will always be yours.”

  Hope played over Matthew’s face, but he quickly squashed it down and it
was replaced by anger. “Then why have you turned from me so? Why have you ignored my letters and my messages, acted as if I do not exist? If you love me as you claim, why is it your love for Lord Dabney that the entire village is talking about?”

  “I don’t know!” she exclaimed, fighting back tears. “I swear to you, my darling, I do not know. I think he has cast a spell over me or something, some kind of sorcery, for when I am with him, I see only him, and you are nothing more than a face in the crowd. But now, when you’re right in front of me, I see you for what you are. I see that you are my soul mate. You alone possess my heart, and I give it to you freely.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, but before she could swipe them from her skin, Matthew was there, kissing the salty tears away.

  Relieved, Elizabeth threw her arms around him and kissed him as fiercely as she ever had. Matthew returned her fervor in kind. Lost in each other, he pushed her back against the hedge and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her so close that the only thing between them was a few layers of fabric. His lips moved against hers as his tongue hungrily explored her mouth, probing every last inch of her as if she were the last drink in the desert to quench his thirst.

  Elizabeth moaned in pleasure against his mouth, feeling heat and desire explode at her core. It had been too long since she felt his touch. Too long since his hands ravished her body in a way that was gentle and demanding at the same time. Aching to be against him, she shoved as his clothing, feverishly working the buttons of his vest and shirt until, at last, her hands found the firm, muscled chest beneath. She raked her fingers down his chest before sliding them around to his back, loving the way her bosom felt against his bare skin.

  Groaning, he reached down the top of her dress and freed her breasts from the confines of her chemise before taking her in his mouth. Her head fell back and she dug her nails into his skin as he suckled her breast, as the heat made her wet with yearning. “More,” she called into the wind, loving that they were being so reckless. Though they were tucked into a niche in the gardens, if anyone were to walk by, they would be discovered. She didn’t care. “More,” she demanded again. “My love, I need more.”