Page 7 of To Spark a Dragon's Love
The sooner we got this over with, the sooner we could—
“Who did this to you?” The growl that came from his chest was downright feral and I froze, following his narrowed gaze.
I wrapped my hands around my mid-section, mortified that he’d point it out like that.
“Um, my daughter?” I stuttered. “Have you never seen a c-section scar before?” Granted, it was a botched job, but I hadn’t called out his damn scars.
“Your daughter?” he asked like this was new information. Anger colored his tone.
I took another step back, still holding myself.
It was surprising no one had told him. Ever since Harper was born, ‘Mom’ had been my personality descriptor.
“Maybe we should’ve gone to the living room first for this talk.” I looked at my discarded shirt, calculating how embarrassing it would be to scoop it back up.
“Hey! What are you doing?” I cried as I was lifted off my feet.
“Failing you,” Malachy gritted out as his masculine, leathery musk filled my senses. “Forgive me. I’ll try not to do it again.”
His hand spanned the width of my back as he unclasped my bra, freeing my breasts.
They bounced along with the rest of me as I was laid down on the bed.
Malachy made quick work of his pants then kneeled on the bed at my feet. “And the child’s father?” His voice was strained.
I wished I could bury my face in the pillow.
“Dead.” I closed my eyes, waiting for the moment to be ruined with words of half-assed sympathy and pity.
Malachy made a noncommittal grunt.
I peeked through one barely open eyelid as he hooked his thumb under the button of my jeans.
It was so fucking sexy.
So was the way he unbuttoned my pants and slowly slid them off my legs in one easy sweep, leaving me naked except for my nicest pair of silk panties.
Mama still had something nice to wear. Not that I’d been expecting things to move this quickly when I woke up this morning, but it never hurt to be prepared.
And I was proud of myself when Malachy’s nostrils flared. His eyes widened in appreciation as his gaze raked over me.
This was really happening.
Naked and exposed in practically a stranger’s bed as I waited with bated breath for him to touch me, to mark me and claimme and see if a magical tattoo appeared so we could stop the apocalypse somehow.
My knees knocked together.
Malachy gripped them, gently spreading my legs apart. The awe on his face was primal. Intoxicating. I couldn’t remember the last time—if ever—that someone looked at me with that raw and unrestrained hunger.
I arched my back a little, giving him a better view as my swirling thoughts quieted again.
“Beautiful,” he growled the word.
It went straight to my core.
I fisted the blankets, needing something to hang onto as his rough hands moved down my thighs and thumbs brushed over the material on my hips.
“Kiss me,” I begged, breathless.
