She cries out. Her orgasm is a lightning strike that triggers my own. I collapse on top of her, resting my forehead on her back and bearing my weight on my elbows as we both catch our breath. After several minutes, she nudges me and I help her up.
“I’m covered in you again,” she says, fluttering kisses along my jaw.
“As it should be.” I fucking love it.
“I’m going to take another shower.” She swipes her pants off the floor and moves toward the hallway. “And then I want those pancakes. I’m starving!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
FIONA
By the time I’m cleaned up and finally eating Connor’s pancakes, I’m absolutely ravenous. And sore. Every second of making love to Connor is worth it, but my lady bits have taken a beating. I shift in my seat a few times before putting another bite of pancake in my mouth.
“Is sex always going to be like this?” I squirm again. “Don’t get me wrong. I love it. But every time with you has been fucking intense. I’m pretty sure we left bruises.”
Connor’s cheeks lift with his crooked smile. “I keep telling myself I’m going to take my time with you, but whenever I touch you, it’s like…” He just shakes his head.
“A forest fire,” I say. “All the kindling goes up at once and the heat is too overwhelming, impossible to control.”
“Fire signs. I warned you.” He laughs. “Next time. Next time we’ll take it slow.”
I bite my lip. “For the sake of my human flesh. Please.”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “If you do have bruises, they won’t last long. Dragon energy has healing powers. The longer you stay with me, the stronger you’ll become. Human mates are rarely, if ever, sick, and when they do catch something it’s usually because their dragon mate has been away.”
I stop eating, the implications hitting me directly in the solar plexus. “Are you saying my fibromyalgia?—?”
“No,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have given you false hope. Dragon energy heals, but fibro isn’t like an injury. It comes from within. My presence will help you recover faster and be more resilient to your triggers, but it won’t cure you.”
“Oh.” I can’t help the disappointment in my voice, but then he’s a dragon, not a magic wand.
He reaches over and brushes a knuckle along my jaw. “Hey, there’s not much data on this specific scenario. Maybe it will be better. Less frequent.”
I frown slightly. “Better is good.”
We’re interrupted when then the front door opens and Bones bounds toward us. Zaire calls from the foyer, “Is everyone dressed? If I spend another minute outside with Bones, I’m going to need a tent.”
“Yes!” we both call in unison.
Zaire glances between me and Connor as he loads his plate from the tower of remaining pancakes. “Please just wait until I’m done eating.”
It’s all I can do to stiflemy laughter.
The dragons arrive at nine,starting with a tall, dark, and stylish man whom Connor introduces as Seb. I learn that Seb owns a record label with offices in New York and LA. Unlike Connor, who has a sort of rugged and wild quality about him, everything about Seb is highly groomed. Not a single dark hair betrays its marching orders, and the midnight-blue velvet jacket he wears falls smooth over a long, lean physique. There’s something lethal about him for sure. The dragon occasionally manifests when his conversation with Connor becomes heated, but he’s less stocky than my mate, more ballet dancer than bouncer, and from the moment he shakes my hand with a smile so smooth it gleams, I realize that physical grace extends to his personality.
Remus is something else altogether. The tattoo artist slips into the room like a shadow and gives me a quiet smile when we’re introduced. His brown eyes twinkle with a kindness that belies the devil tattoo laughing at me from his biceps. And when he joins the others in the living room, he doesn’t sit but lingers near the fire, easily overlooked next to Seb’s flashy and illustrious presence.
Ellison arrives last, and I immediately feel the tension his presence causes Connor across our bond. It’s easy to see why. His suit and tie are freshly pressed although it’s late in the day, as if a wrinkle wouldn’t dare to crease the man’s clothes. He’s uptight and formal. When he briefly shakes my hand, he seems hurried and a bit cool. Oddly, I don’t get the sense that it’s anything personal. My intuition tells me he’s just an asshole toeveryone, a villain in Versace, a demon to anyone who dares oppose him.
When he enters the room, the entire mood changes, from a happy reunion to a formal meeting. Seb starts to fidget. That muscle in Connor’s jaw is jumping like someone plugged it in. And Remus, although I wouldn’t have thought it possible, blends even more into the shadows beside the fire.
I cross my arms and pop out a hip. I’ve dealt with men like this before. Ellison Weber will not succeed in intimidating me. I station myself in the archway between the foyer and the living room, outside the circle of dragons, and wait for them to start.
“Maybe we should go somewhere more private,” Ellison says, tipping his head in my direction. “After all, this is an official meeting of the four.”
“Anything you tell me, she’ll know anyway,” Connor says. “She’s my mate. She stays.”
Glances are exchanged but no one challenges him. I stay put.
