Page 101 of The Dragon Warlord
“Did I say for you to go back to your room?” I shake my head. “Then get back into my bed.”
The force in his words is fucking delicious. My heart races and a zesty buzz fans over my body. Relief washes through me at the same time. He wants me to stay. “Yes, sir.”
I can’t bring myself to use his name just now, but I promise myself I’ll try as my bare feet make quick steps back to the bed. I hop in, but I can’t get warm. My blood is chilled from that little adventure. Tristan won’t like me freezing my arse off. He’ll be annoyed if I don’t do something about it, but he’s riled and if I get out of bed, I’ll hear about that too.
It’s lose-lose, so I choose the thing that will make him feel better. I’ll have to borrow something from his closet, which means I’ll have to walk past the doors to do it. I can sneak past an army of screechings if I want to, but there’s little chance Tristan won’t sense me approaching. I take careful steps anyway.
“What you doing, Riv?” he growls.
I step toward the door. “C-Can’t get w-warm, Warlord. N-Needed a fur.”
He watches me quake with cold for a few moments. “Fuck it,” he murmurs. “C’mere.”
I step quickly and take his proffered hand. He yanks me into his large Elven lap, and I’m forced to half-leap if I don’t want to trip. He’s so much larger than me. Almost eight feet tall. I’m just six feet; small for a dragon. I love that he’s massive.
And Gods, he’s warm. A dragon fire pit. I settle into the heat. Things don’t feel right when we’re apart. When we’re not touching. With my skin against his, I don’t have a bother in the world. Leaning my head into his neck, I close my eyes. I’ll sleep better. I’ll sleep so fucking good tonight.
Tristan is frozen. I know why. I want to ask him if he’s afraid that even a sharp breeze will send his cock into my arse. It’s the type of humor I’m prone to but teasing a riled-up dragon is plain stupid. Instead, I relax and let the heat pouring off him scare away the chill. A hand climbs up my shirt and presses against my back. His touch, being with him like this … I’m so fucking content.
My heart reaches out to fondle his without anything I can do to stop it. I know he worries about me and how I feel and how he “treats” me, but his heart beats for me so strongly I can’t miss it. He loves me so much that it’s unbearable for him.
Love is painful. I wish there was something I could do about the ache for him.
But love is alsothisand I’m happy to bathe in it.
“I’m warm now, Warlord.” Dammit. That could have been a Tristan. “Shall I go back to bed?”
“No.” His fingers move down to play with the band of my shorts. My cock is alert, wondering if he’ll go further. I’d give anything for him to slide those fingers into my wet crease. “River, if we go further that’s it. I won’t be able to stay away from you. Once that line is crossed, it’s crossed.”
I’m all fucking for the crossing of lines. “I want to be anything and everything for you.”
He huffs and his hand is unceremoniously tugged from my waistband.
“No,” I say without thinking. But his hand there was just that good, making me forget my place.
“No?” he says as though it’s a foreign word. I suppose it is coming from my lips and meant for him.
“Sorry, Warlord.” I turn my head to hide in his neck.
“Please don’t say you’re sorry for voicing what you want. I was surprised that’s all.”
How do I make him understand that what he wants is what I want? Well, maybe except if what he wants is being away from me. But even then, if my presence makes him uncomfortable, I’d rather force distance than have him suffer.
“I do want to stay here with you—just like this—but I don’t want to inflict myself upon you either.”
He sighs. “Believe me, you’re no affliction. And that was good. The ‘no’. I can begin to trust that maybe you’ll say no to other things you don’t want.”
“I will, Warlord. I can’t imagine there is anything I’d say no to though.”
“One step forward, two steps back. C’mon. Time for bed.”
No.I don’t want him to think we’re two steps back. Not when I think we’ve come so far forward in just one day. For ten years we’ve suffered and while I’m willing to suffer however many more years for him—forever if need be—I can’t bear his suffering.
I have to make a move and I have to do it now, no matter how terrifying.
Moving as quickly as I do on the field, I sling my leg forward and around until I’m straddling his thick thighs. His blood-warmed body pulses beneath me. He hasn’t thrown me off yet—which would be easy enough for him to do—so I push myself to keep going.
“Permission to kiss you, sir?” Mercy, Drakon. I may be inexperienced, but I know that’s not how you ask someone to kiss them—like you’re still on the battlefield.What an idiot, Riv.
