Page 91 of The Artist and the Dragon

Their breaths mingled as he stared at her with reverent intensity. With one hand, he smoothed her hair back from her face, his palm lingering against her cheek. “Just when I was beginning to think you could not be any more beautiful.” His brow pinched. “Are you okay, truly? Did I hurt you at all?”

A breathy laugh slipped from her lips. “I am very well. Thoroughly and deliciously ravished.”

His expression morphed into one of mischief. “Thoroughly?” A chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Oh, my love, we’ve only just begun.”

Chapter 38

Malik

WhenMalikwokethenext day, he was sure he’d never rested so well despite sleeping little. Bronwyn’s lavender scent filled his nose, and he inhaled greedily. A smile stretched across his lips at memories of the night before. He reached for her, ready to pull her into his arms and worship her once more.

But the space next to him was empty, though the sheets still held a little warmth. Frowning, he cracked open his eyes.

As he blinked, clearing the sleep from his eyes, he caught sight of her across the room. The bit of apprehension trying to disturb his peace vanished completely.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t hoped she’d wake in his bedroom one day—that he hadn’t dreamed of a possible future where they could be together. In fact, that hope was the force that drove him forward, his guiding light. To that end, he’d considered what she might like and what might make her comfortable. The first thing that had come to mind was an easel and paints, complete with brushes and canvas to work on. It had been tucked away in the corner, but she must have discovered it and set it up, because she sat before it now on a little wooden stool. Her long brown hair draped down her back, warm and rich against the pale fabric of her shift. The apparent tangles in her brown locks made his chest swell with pleasure. He was responsible for those, he was sure, not that she’d thank him for that.

Worth it. So worth it.

From his position on the bed, Malik couldn’t see what she painted, but it didn’t matter. The woman he loved was in his bedroom, doing the thing she loved and seemingly at peace. There was nothing more precious in the world than that.

Malik lay there for long minutes, taking in the sight—the sun streaming through a crack in the curtains and highlighting her hair, the slope of her neck, and the way she’d occasionally tilt her head one way or the other as she pondered her work. He’d have been content to stay there even longer if not for the painful throbbing of his cock. Goddess above, he was a glutton for her. There was no other explanation for why his body still craved her so ferociously after the night they’d shared. Sliding inside her had been like finding home, a feeling he’d almost forgotten.

Quietly as possible, he slid from the sheets and pulled on a pair of loose pants he’d errantly thrown over a chair near the bed sometime before. He padded barefoot across the floor and came up behind Bronwyn while she painted.

Either she was lost in her work or chose to ignore him, but he’d wager it was the former. The painting she worked on appeared to be two horses galloping through a field. What a lovely sight.

“Good morning, Princess.”

Bronwyn gasped and stilled, brush held aloft. Her head whipped to the side, and only once she took him in did the tension slip from her shoulders. “Malik,” she breathed.

“Jumpy this morning.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“You startled me, that’s all. I didn’t even know you were up.” With her free hand, she grabbed for a blanket that must have slipped from her shoulders at some point and ineffectually tugged at it until it barely covered her lap. Pity. Her thin shift did little to disguise her form. He’d have to content himself with the sight of her dusky nipples where they prodded the linen.

“I wasn’tthatquiet.” Though he’d certainly tried to be.

She sighed. “I’m just…”

His stomach suddenly dropped. His throat grew tight. “Do you regret what we—”

“No!” She whirled on him so fast that her brush slid right across his abdomen, leaving a green streak in its wake. Her eyes grew wide as saucers. “Oh! Damn it. I’m sorry, I—” She set the brush aside and started looking around in haste, likely trying to find a rag.

Malik simply chuckled. “You can paint me any time.”

At that, she stilled with a sigh and looked at him over one shoulder. “I’m glad you’re in a good mood.”

“You’re not?” His brow pinched, truly perplexed. There was no way he’d left her unsatisfied. In fact, he was quite proud of how many times she’d cried his name.

“It’s nothing about last night,” she said hurriedly. “Last night was…” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and gave him a look that nearly had him groaning with need. “Perfect,” she finished.

His gaze locked on those pouty pink lips freshly reddened from her teeth. He couldn’t help imagining how they’d look wrapped around his cock. The thought alone nearly dropped him to his knees.

In the silence, Bronwyn shifted in her seat before tearing her attention away. “I really should find a cloth,” she mumbled.

“Don’t.”

She stilled and snapped her gaze to him once more.

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