“Clever.” Colin looked at her with something close to awe in his eyes. “Maybe there is hope of finding the grimoire even without the help of the tanglewood artifact.”
Leena yawned and curled on her side. “Don’t get too excited. Without translating the scroll, even if we can find the grave, we still won’t have the code necessary to line up the cogs properly so that the key will work.”
Eyelids heavy, she was relieved when Colin extinguished the lamp. “Hmm. This is one problem we’re not going to solve tonight. Sleep well, Leena. There’ll be time for us to figure it all out tomorrow.”
To her surprise, she did.
Chapter Nine
As a dragon, Colin didn’t need as much sleep as other species. Dragons were known to go days without a full night’s rest with no ill effects. Perhaps that was why he woke first to dim light sifting through the canvas walls of the tent. With his first breath, Leena’s sweet, wild scent filled his lungs. His inner dragon stretched and sniffed toward the bundle beside him.
She’d grown cold in her sleep and edged into the curve of his body, her head tucked under his chin and her back skimming down his front. His heart quickened at the exquisite torture. He longed to kiss her temple, glide his hand over the length of her spine, press the rock-hard erection that had formed the moment he smelled her into her backside.
He closed his eyes. No. He wouldn’t give in to the temptation. It already ached to be taking her back to the temple, to know he’d likely never see her again afterward. Every kiss, every touch, would make it harder for him to part with her. His dragon already pined for her. Why make things harder than they needed to be?
She sighed in her sleep and rolled over, her hand and cheek replacing her back against his chest. She nestled in.
“Leena,” he whispered. Maybe he should push her away. She’d made it clear to him what she wanted and didn’t want. Maybe he should just get up and leave the tent, take care of his need for her outside, with his own hand.
He started to move, and her lids fluttered open. That purple gaze locked on to him, the color seizing him violently, freezing him into place. Her fingers traced an arc above his left nipple, and he clenched his fists to keep from touching her.
“Leena,” he said again.
She swallowed, lifting her cheek off his chest. “I can hear your heart.”
“You’re making it pound.”
Her hand hovered over his skin.
Colin’s dragon coiled tighter inside him, and at that moment, the crafty beast came up with a truly diabolical plan, and Colin’s lips began to move before he could censor himself.
“Would you like to experiment more, with my permission?” His voice sounded throaty and rough, as raw as he felt. “A kiss alone is hardly an education. If your goal was to sample the delights of the flesh before returning to the temple, you should expand your course of study.”
Her long, tapered fingers traced the edge of his scar where it ended along the base of his neck, her lips parting on a shaky breath. “You’re sure it wouldn’t make things difficult for you? I thought you said before—”
“That was before.” He forced his expression into something casual, almost impassive. “Before I understood what you wanted.”
Her tongue stroked along her bottom lip. “Then may I… touch you?”
His lids heavy, the corner of his mouth twitched as he gave her a slow and certain yes. Her fingers traced light and soft across his collarbone, over the scarred mound of his shoulder, and down to his nipple. She pinched and rolled it between her fingers.
“Would you like to know what that feels like?”
A spark flared in her purple eyes.
He reached up to her neck, into her robes. Her lips parted as he traced her collarbone, then cupped her breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Mmmm,” she moaned, arching into his hand.
He caressed her breast again before pulling his hand away.
“Would you like me to show you something else?” he whispered.
He almost cheered when she met his gaze with wide eyes and nodded. Slowly, tentatively, he rolled her onto her back and stroked a hand down her front, not stopping until he reached the slit in her robes at her knee. He worked his hand under the material until his fingers met warm flesh. His erection twitched with need. Slowly, he swept his hand up her inner thigh, watching her gasp at his touch, arching, head back. He stroked again until the very tips of his fingers met the warm crease at the apex of her thighs. A growl rumbled in his chest at the wet heat he found there.
“Scribes don’t wear anything under their robes?”
Pink tinged her cheeks. “Why would we?”
