by Zoe Dawson
Even though she was disappointed, it was confusing and difficult. But they were already physically involved as well as emotionally, and her business was here. Ceri’s life was here, and the best schools for her were here. She was torn between her responsibility for her daughter and what she wanted in her heart with this beautiful man. She had way too much respect for Ryuu to push him or to make him feel guilty about anything to do with her or Ceri. She wanted him, but he had to have his mind clear before he’d act on his own impulses.
“If it’s any comfort, I’m on the pill. I’m just a few months out of a relationship that went nowhere, and I didn’t want to take any chances. It was a precaution.” Sitting up she said, “Why don’t you come to my room, and we’ll just sleep together. Nothing more unless you change your mind. I don’t want to rush you, but I need to be close to you.”
He sat up so fast, he almost clipped her on the chin, his body a big mass of gorgeous muscle so close to her.
Dragon closed his eyes and swallowed hard, and Jo knew he was so torn up inside, he couldn’t answer. With her own vision blurred with tears, she slipped her arms around him, trying to give him the comfort he needed.
His voice hoarse from his own emotions, he whispered her name as he gathered her into his crushing embrace, his arms strong and true around her as he pressed his face into the curve of her neck. Hauling in a ragged breath, their bodies welded together by the intensity of their feelings, he said, “I want to be close to you, too, Jo.”
She closed her eyes, her body simultaneously trembling from her desire for him and the explosion of emotion that slammed through her.
His hold on her eventually slackened, and he slowly combed his fingers through her hair, his touch gentle and oddly soothing. Her heart raced wildly as she savored the wonderful feelings that washed through her. She’d only felt like this when he was in her life.
Cupping his hand against the back of her head, Dragon nestled her more closely against him, his breath warm against her skin as his lips lightly brushed her temple. “I think it’s best if you go on back to bed, Jo. I might have this formidable determination and grit, but when it comes to you, I’m a freaking marshmallow.”
She smiled and slipped her arm around his back, murmuring, “There’s not one soft spot on you, sailor boy.” She pressed her hand over his heart. “Except right here.”
He smoothed his hand down her arm. “You are a dirty street fighter, Jo Moretti.”
“You bet your fine ass I am.”
He laughed softly, his amusement fading on a sigh of defeat. “I shouldn’t give you any ammunition, but you do have a profound effect on my heart.”
“Oh, what effect is that?”
“It melts, lady, and you know it.”
“Ooh, that is good to know.”
His expression softened as he slowly rubbed his knuckles along her jaw. “Don’t sound so gleeful. Remember, I am a SEAL and we adapt and overcome.”
“Not against the ultimate weapons.”
He groaned softly, giving her a long, level look. “Jo—”
“My warm, soft, wet—”
“Dammit, Jo.” He shifted her head back and covered her mouth, his savage kiss tasting like gold and feeling like fire burning her alive. Something raw and consuming exploding as if she was the treasure he sought, glittering with all that tantalized him. He couldn’t hurt her, she vowed. She had her eyes wide open.
He dragged his mouth away from hers. Gathering her up, he pulled her onto his lap, then set his feet on the floor. He rose and headed toward her bedroom, kicking the door open as he entered. He set her down on the bed and sighed.
“You’re not staying.” She could feel his withdrawal, and her admiration of him only increased along with her heart starting to take that long, long fall.
But, hell, she always seemed so unprepared with him.
He let her go and backed up a step. “Go to sleep, Jo. You have a busy day tomorrow.”
He headed for the door.
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered, heavy regret bleeding through her words. Her heart was in her voice, and he stopped, his shoulders tightening. With the imagination of the tattoo artist in her, she almost thought the shadowy wings looked real, and she could almost imagine they transformed wide into leather and magnificence. The fantasy was broken with his heavy sigh. He closed the door and turned.
She met his intense gaze, feeling her heart pound until her ears were full of the sound, until she could almost feel that wind rush through her in exhilaration. His eyes were as dark as dragon scales, tinged in red, edged with steel and full of the knowledge of battles and savagery. A warrior that embraced war as necessary, but violence mingled with his desire, black and deep like the velvet dark need that pulsed through her. He was seduction on a primal level. Her body ached for him.
So maybe she was a fool, maybe she was a complete fool, because he could hurt her so badly, and all she could think about was how much she wanted to be burned by his flame.
The violence faded away into sudden, silent watchfulness.
“I am a freaking marshmallow.”
She snorted and covered her mouth. The man was so damn desirable. He trudged toward the bed and slipped under the covers. She went to move, and he held up his hand. “Don’t touch me. Please. Close those beautiful eyes and go to sleep. I’m begging you.”
She didn’t take offense. He didn’t want her to touch him because he was on the verge of giving in, and she wanted him to want her, to be willing to take that breathtaking leap with her.
She settled down under the covers, and with the knowledge that what she wanted was so close, she absorbed the warm presence of him and closed her eyes, slipping into sleep.
She woke up into pitch blackness, the bed beneath her rough like…stone. It was stone and she sat up, disoriented. She was in her bed. How did she get…here?
“Dreams are nothing but waking desires,” the voice whispered in the darkness. The sound was deep and rich and musical. It soothed her and excited her at the same time.
Something was there in the dark. She heard its breath. She felt its hot touch. She scrambled to her feet and backed up toward the dim light of the mouth of the cave. It was freedom.
But she didn’t get far. Whatever was in the dark moved with the quickness of a cat and the bulk of something huge. It loomed over her, pinning her down with warm weight, the soft underbelly pressing on her body.
Terrified, she arched her head back and saw the glittering blackness, the huge frame and graceful tail.
A dragon—and all she could think was how beautiful.
“I want you to fly with me,” he whispered, that compelling voice lifted in such deep beauty, such chiming seduction.
“But I’ll fall,” she cried, sure that she would lose her grip, plunge to her death.
He moved in agitation, a sudden shimmer of black and silver that flashed and danced in shadow.
“You have no choice,” he said, his voice a study in agony. “We have no choice.”
Without warning, he grasped her and flipped her toward the opening, and she fell, tumbling in the air without any way to protect herself, without any way to land safely.
Then she met something hard and giving, her hand clutching for purchase. There was a rush of air and the heady feeling of floating, the handholds beneath her warm and as butter-soft as leather.
He soared into the night, the moon full and silvery as the dark landscape streamed below her, his body between her legs, hard and arousing. She’d been wrong. This! This was freedom!
At that thought, she lost her grip and slipped off his back, falling, her scream echoing in the silver sky.
Before she hit, the massive presence above her swooped and caught her, landing on the ground, shifting until there were arms that held her legs that took the force of the impact. She was beneath him. His belly slid against hers as he buried his head in her naked shoulder—and suddenly he was kissing her skin, forcing weight on her, his body pressin
g warmth and heat into hers.
“I want to touch you,” he whispered, his hand on her thigh.
“Oh, God.” She trembled and arched. “I’ll fall,” she whispered.
His palm slid upward, caressing her thighs, touching the core of her with a glittering fire. She moaned with the feel of it, the intimate heat moving toward a center of flame. They were both naked, his body pressed down on her, into her.
“No,” she whimpered. “I’ll fall.” But her hands molded the length of his back, the breadth of his shoulders—passed along the flame-touched curve of muscle and bone. “I want to fly,” she cried.
He didn’t answer. His kiss scored the arch of her throat. His hand sought the heart of her desire, a pressing, violent, sweet sensation.
“I’m falling,” she whispered into skin and dark fire. She twisted and clutched and moaned in desperation.
His body enveloped her, covered her in hot darkness and passion. She felt his touch on her lips and throat. She tried to see him and saw dragon eyes in the night, glittering with gold against the velvet darkness.
“I’m a man,” he whispered. “Yours.”
He covered her, drowned her in black fire and glittering darkness. And she found herself caught and held, moving and pulsing with pleasure.
Jo opened her eyes with a soft jerk. The ache of excitement still throbbed between her legs. She shifted underneath the covers and blinked past the dream to consciousness.
So close, Dragon was asleep, the night hushed, even the street sounds inaudible beyond the cocoon of her bedroom, the shadows lush with promise.
She stared at him, the dream so tantalizing and sparking pleasure off every cell of her body. He was now on his side instead of his back, one arm curled up under his head, and the other extended, as if he’d been reaching for her.
The broken illumination through the blinds played across his hand and bare forearm, bathing his wide chest, a swell of velvet bare skin and muscle, in golden light. His palm lay upturned and half open, the fingers curled in relaxation.
His heart beat in the soft skin of his wrist, and she could almost believe she heard it pulsing in rhythm with her own, life as tantalizing as his warmth and beauty.
The memories of being with him had haunted her for years, the feel of him stirring and fascinating…almost unbearable with him so close. She rolled to her side, then her stomach.
Slowly, so slowly, she slid her fingers across the mattress within a hairsbreadth of his. She hesitated. She had only to open her hand to touch him. In the dream he had touched her, slid his palm across her skin, made the ache into sweet fire…
God, she wanted him. Angling her knee so that her thighs were spread beneath the sheet, she slid her flattened palm along her belly until she touched the creamy, wet warmth of her arousal at the same time she opened her fingers and brushed his hand.
A low, breathy moan tumbled from her lips, and she bit her bottom lip. He didn’t stir. Glancing up, she watched his breathing, deep and oblivious. Boldly, she slipped her fingertips along the pads of his. His hand was so much larger than hers—hands that had done things she could only wonder at, hands that could hold weapons, mete out violence in the name of duty and honor, and hands that could so gently hold her heart and brand her with heat.
Unable to help herself, she smoothed her hand over his palm. There was an ache in her, a restlessness, on the edge of something she was afraid to name. She stroked her swollen flesh as her body ached. She could barely breathe. Her body was on fire, her nipples hard and aching, her sex throbbing with powerful beats of passion.
A flash of the dream came back, his weight on her, a hard, delicious pressure imprinting her with fire. Her fingers curved, pressing into his. She imagined smoothing her palm across his shoulder. Her heart beat faster. She could see the outline of his body beneath the sheet, the fluid shape of his torso and hip, powerful relaxed perfection, his leg drawn up, shielding his groin beneath too many layers.
She wanted to push back the covers and drag those sweatpants off him, get her mouth and her hands on every inch of him. As the dream lingered, memory of sensation carved desire into her bones. She stared at his hand, her fingers drifting, tracing the curve at the base of his thumb and moving up the open flex of his forefinger, feeling the smooth skin and roughened places. It felt so good to ease the strain in her, to touch him like this, a man who set all her senses to blazing and harried her dreams in dragon-shape.
Her dark desire—her Dragon
Her eyes rose to his face, taut with his dark gaze flickering with flame.
He pushed off the bed and backed up, and she couldn’t let him go. Her vision blurring with the enormity of her feelings, she slipped out of bed and whispered. “Dragon. I want to fall.”
He stopped and straightened, his body going still. Jo could feel the tension leaping between them. She didn’t have a plan, she hadn’t thought it out, but just when she thought his will was ironclad, he moved, straight toward her, his body dark and iced with silver. She collided with him, his agony merging with hers.
She made a desperate sound, her voice breaking with need as he crushed her in a hard, fierce embrace, his hand roughly tangling in her loose hair as he jammed her head against him.
The memory of the dream jumbled up with the reality of the man, and Jo clung to him, certain she would collapse if he let her go. With the surging sense of two halves coming together into a whole, her soul finding that missing piece with a stunning clarity and rush of wanting, she let go of everything.
Her breathing out of control, she locked her arms around him, pulling herself flush against him, needing him, needing more.
Hoarsely whispering her name, Dragon backed her to the shadowed bed. Her hands slipped down his body, reveling in the velvet steel of his muscles, shoving at the waistband of his pants with desperation, cupping his hard heat in her hand.
He threw his head back with an agonized groan, his body rigid. She leaned forward and caught one of his rigid nipples between her lips. She laved it with her tongue and grazed the tip with the edge of her teeth. A groan rumbled up from his chest as she traversed her way lower, spreading kisses on his taut, flat belly. Finally, she came to his thick, straining erection, and even that part of him was as gorgeous and magnificent as he was.
She wrapped her fingers around the velvet-textured length of him and felt him pulse in her tight grip.
She had to taste him.
She took him in her wet mouth, his skin hot and salty against the stroke of her tongue. He shuddered and tangled his hands in her hair, and she sucked him, taking him deep as she could, the dream of him urging her on for more. She pleasured him with her mouth, teased him with her tongue and aroused him to a fever pitch of need that made his entire body shake with the restraint of trying to hold back. She stroked him up and down in rapid succession, using her tongue to pleasure him without restraint.
“Fuck!” he swore fiercely, his hips jerking with the movement of her mouth. “Jo, no. You’re going to make me come way too fast.”
He clasped her shoulders and tugged. She went because she wanted so much more with him.
His hand went to her tank top, and he pulled it over her head and jerked her shorts down her legs, then grabbed her around the waist and tossed her on the bed.
“Let me finish what you started,” he said. His chest rose and fell heavily, his expression fierce and hungry as he took her in. She was panting, and he was breathing just as hard. Hot, damp puffs of air caressed her belly as he lowered his head, and the stubble on his jaw chafed her skin. Without warning, without any shred of seduction, he clamped his mouth over her. She arched and cried out with a ragged moan. With one hand, he pulled at one of her nipples, until it was hard and aching. He took her into his warm, wet mouth, and sucked gently, over and over, drawing a gasp from her. Threading her fingers through his hair, she gripped his head. He laved her with his tongue, stroking, licking, and swirling around and over the sensitive bud, until she was panting and
arching restlessly against the heat of his mouth.
She gasped at the shock of sensation that shot through her, liquid heat pooling at her center as he slowly, fiercely took her.
He knew how to make her tremble and ache, how to bring her to the edge of release and then just tantalize her with the promise. She cried out, her back arching off the bed and her fingers clutching the covers in the hope of keeping her grounded, but she should have known better. He knew how to make her soar.
Ecstasy, pure and white-hot, gathered inside her until there was nothing left for her to do but let go and enjoy the rushing ride. Her body shuddered hard, then dissolved into exquisite spasms that seemed to go on forever.
She’d only felt this incredible, powerful orgasm once before, and it was Dragon who had been the one and only man to make her feel like this. The force and intensity of it all stole her breath, consuming her in a way she had hungered for in the six long years they’d been apart.
After a moment, his thumb caressed her as she lost herself again in another delicious orgasm, but he was up and turning her over, pulling her body closer to the edge of the bed. Her disheveled hair was in her face. She heard his soft, explicit curse from somewhere behind her and gasped in startled surprise when the heat of him was all around her, his skin searing hot as he covered her from behind, his erection nestling so insistently between her spread thighs.
“Touch me, Jo,” he rasped, and she slipped her hand between her body and the mattress, meeting and caressing the head of his erection, positioning his cock at the core of her. His groan vibrated along her back as he slid in an excruciating inch. She arched her bottom against his hips, seeking more just as he surged forward and filled her.
His slow, gyrating thrusts gradually gave way to deeper, heavier lunges that possessed and claimed her in a primal way. Reaching up, he entwined their fingers of the hand she’d curled into the pillow and slipped his other hand between her body and the mattress. He cupped her breast in his palm, squeezed and fondled her, lightly pinching her nipple between his fingers before skimming his hand lower, along her belly and down to her aching sex. His fingers joined with hers, adding to the hot, wet sensation, causing her to rock frantically against his pounding hips.