“I love lilacs. Come on in, Adrian,” Layla smiled, feeling her body lighten to be around him. He could wear a burlap potato sack and carry a lump of coal and she’d still feel the same way. They were like magnets, drawn together. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t as he stepped in through the door. A whirl of scent and a heated wind eased around her as he entered her apartment. And for the first time, Layla realized that passionate swirl of heat she felt wasn’t just Adrian’s Dragon-magic, but hers and his moving together in dark-bright currents.
Creating something new between the two of them like stars over a midnight desert.
He stepped close as he entered and Layla stared up at him; transfixed by his impossible beauty. Gazing down, he lifted a hand to her jaw and neck. Cupping her face sweetly, she saw him undone in that moment. Something beautiful shone from Adrian’s eyes as he watched her. Something that cut through all the bullshit between them; something Layla could have died to have in her life. Lowering his lips, he didn’t kiss her but moved to the side – breathing his lips over her neck in a way that left Layla’s knees weak. Moving his lips gently over the angle of her jaw, he made her body pound as he whispered at her ear, “You look beautiful, Layla Price.”
“You do too, Adrian Rhakvir.”
It was a stupid thing to say, but Layla couldn’t think with his energy pouring through hers in heat and bliss. With a dark chuckle, he murmured, “Thank you,” then nuzzled her neck.
His dark-bright aqua eyes seared into Layla as he pulled away. Piercing her, devouring her; he was all she needed – and yet. Layla’s fingers slipped out to touch her Moroccan hamsa-cuff, and the spell between her and Adrian lifted slightly, enough that she could step back with a shaky exhalation.
Adrian moved to the breakfast table, watching her as he took sunflowers from the table’s cobalt vase and slid his lilacs in. They were perfect. Layla’s favorite flower, they began perfuming the room with their scent. Mixed with Adrian’s cinnamon and jasmine musk plus Layla’s own orange-bourbon heat, it was a heady combination and Layla swayed for a moment. But she was able to move toward the table, leaning over with elegance and inhaling the lilac’s fragrance – showing Adrian she could do it like a fucking lady and not just jump into his arms.
“Ready to go to dinner?” He asked in that smooth voice of his, like expensive rum or brandy swirled in a crystal highball glass. Layla couldn’t decide if she wanted all of it in her bed at night, or if just a taste would be better, making her wait deliciously for the rest. Lifting the black mink stole he’d bought her from a nearby chair, she slung it on.
“I’m ready.”
“Bring your purse.” Adrian nodded at a black beaded clutch on the table. Layla had already put in her phone, wallet, and some lipstick just in case they were going somewhere.
“Where are we going?” She asked as she claimed it, her curiosity rising.
“We’re going into Paris.” Adrian grinned; rakish and utterly delightful.
“Paris, Paris?” Layla cocked her head, grinning also.
“Paris, Paris.” He ginned back, his eyes settling into that devilish, poetic look he’d had in the art gallery. “I thought I’d show you off in the human world tonight. You’re stunning, Layla Price. And everyone should see it, human and Twilight alike.”
It was her turn to blush. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she said the only thing that came. “Paris it is.”
Adrian extended his arm like an old-world gentleman and Layla moved forward like she was in her dream; feeling his cinnamon-spice heat swirl around her. By the time she set her fingers around his arm and he cupped them to the white silk of his tux, she was shivering. His hand was so warm; his eyes shining with delight to have her upon his arm. It was like it had been in the art gallery when they’d first met and Layla caught her breath. For as her body flooded with heat, Adrian’s eyes suddenly shifted into every color at once – like his irises had turned to faceted opals or diamonds, midnight-bright and dark and burning with gold.
“Your eyes!” Layla breathed.
“They change color when I’m entranced by something,” Adrian murmured in his coffee-and-cream voice. “And I am entranced by you, Layla Price. I have been since the day we met.”
In that moment, Adrian Rhakvir leaned down and kissed her. His lips were like his voice; creamy and deep, smooth and luscious and giving. So giving. His spice-wind energy swirled down Layla’s throat as they kissed, and like her dreams of the desert, she was somehow in his arms now rather than on his arm. Not John LeVeque’s lips, these were Adrian’s – and as sensually decadent to kiss as they looked.
Layla molded to him as they kissed, feeling a deep passion simmer between them as he slowly stroked his hands up her bare spine. She was all-over shivers by the time he licked his tongue deep into her mouth and pulled away, the last of his breath diving down her throat and sundering everything within her into roaring heat and breathless ecstasy.
Pulling back, Adrian set his forehead to hers with a deep sigh. “That was nice,” he breathed at her lips, sending another wave of pleasure rolling through Layla as he stroked a hand up her spine again, still cradling her close.
“Sure.” Layla’s mind wasn’t working right; neither was her body. She was cradled against Adrian’s strong form like a willow-branch; held up by his smooth, warm hands.
“Sure?” He chuckled, pulling back with a lift of one dark eyebrow and a handsome grin.
“When I’m kissing you and not John LeVeque, it’s nice.” Layla’s sass came out; she couldn’t stop it. But rather than be offended, Adrian laughed, a sudden bright guffaw that was both John LeVeque and Adrian Rhakvir at the same time. Layla grinned at that sound; it was a laugh that was all of Adrian’s truths and none of his falsehoods.
And she loved it.
“Are you ready to go?” Adrian chuckled. Reaching up, he slid his thumb over her lower lip, pressing it down slightly. Layla’s breath caught and more sass came to her mouth, to stop her from sundering entirely to his pleasures and utterly scrap dinner.
“You mean we’re not just going to stay here and fuck?”
He laughed again, but this time his laughter was dark and masculine. “No. But if you want to… it could be arranged.”
“I’d rather see what you’ve arranged for dinner.”
“I’d rather take a tour of your bedroom,” he growled, hot now.
