Page 59 of I Dream of Dragons
“How is that happening?” I whisper. “Why did I hear you in my head when you called down the drak?”
“I heard you, too. It’s…” He grimaces. “Rae?—”
“Please…” I lift my hands to cradle his face, his hard jaw an unforgiving line against my palms, the stubble scraping my skin. I brush my fingertips over those designs on his cheeks, over his thick brows, the butterfly-beating of his lashes.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, “pleasure me, lie with me. Make me yours.”
“You’ve been mine from the moment I met you,” he growls, and then he’s kissing me, his mouth as hard as the rest of him, not punishing but intent, eager, unleashed. He lifts one hand to slide long, callused fingers over my shoulder, up my neck until he cradles my head, controlling the kiss.
And I fall into him the same way I fell into the deepest ocean—with a wish, and a grudge, and a burning desire, strong enough to challenge death.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RAE
We’re kissing like we’re drowning all over again, breathing in each other’s air, hands moving over each other’s body as if trying to map a new way home.
Clothes, too many clothes, stiff with blood and salt, still wet in places and sticking to our skin. We’re reluctant to break the kiss to undress properly.
I can feel his reluctance.
I bet he can feel mine.
Just as he can feel my arousal, and I can feel his, both in my mind and in the hard length trapped between our bodies, in the urgency of his kiss and the way he’s gripping me, in the growl deep in his throat when I bury my fingers in his soft hair and tug.
Even bowed over me like this, he’s so much taller than me, I have to rise on tiptoe to thread my fingers in those dark locks. His arms slide around me, around my lower back, and as that seemingly endless kiss finally ceases, breaking like a seal on a secret kept locked for so long, he lifts me up against him, swings me up in his arms, and spins me around.
Dazzling, I think, my eyes half-closing. It’s as if I’m spun across the night sky with all the stars and clouds and nightbirds,with all the wings and feathers and gold. Fairytales and songs. Magic and storm.
“Rae…” He carries me to the bed, but then he staggers, and I remember his hurt leg, reality smacking into me like a blow.
“Put me down,” I whisper, and after a beat, he unhooks his arm from underneath my knees and places my feet on the floor.
He’s smiling as we stand facing each other, as his hands slide around my waist. Smiling and dimpling, and his eyes… those dark eyes are so full of light right now, they cast shadows on everything in this room, including me. They are like suns, silver and gray and blue, the black receding for a moment.
Such a neat trick. An illusion.
But the joy in them turns back to hunger and desire, and the darkness returns. It’s a dark so deep and soft, it’s velvet and satin, and itsmolderslike embers.
It’s hard to remember that nothing has been resolved between us, that before the kiss, he was about to walk out and I was going to climb into the bathtub and ruminate over this mess between us.
This is desire, I remind myself.Sexual, physical. Lust, and nothing more.
Like scratching an itch or stretching a muscle.
That’s how I should see it, but then his hands slip up my body, over my ribs, over my breasts, and he lets out a low groan as if I’m hurting him, as if he’s in pain, and it’s so sexy.
I’m the one in pain from wanting him so badly. The throb between my legs is like a wound, throbbing angrily, needing relief.
His hands slide up my neck, slip into my wet hair, and he’s kissing me again, his mouth desperate.
Is it gentler this time? No. It’s deeper, his tongue battling with mine, his fingers digging against my scalp, his breathing chopped and labored.
I step back, and he follows, until we fall onto the bed. My breath leaves me, and he swallows it, settling over me, our mouths still fused together. One of his hands pushes up the wet skirt of my dress, caressing my leg.
He shoves a muscular thigh between my legs and I cry out against his lips as he presses against the softest part of me, the part that’s aching for him.
“Rae,” he breathes, ripping my wet neckline down, and lowers his head to my breasts.
