“Thank you for telling me.” I stepped closer. “For being honest and not hiding who you are.”
“I could never hide from you, little mate. You see me too clearly.”
The space between us was minimal. Barely there. I could feel the heat of him and smell that pine and earth scent that made my head spin.
“Mal?”
“Yes?”
“Chapter thirty-two. In the dragon book.” My heart was racing. “Do you really think it’s realistic?”
His eyes flashed red. “Would you like me to prove it?”
I should have said no and stepped back. Reminded both of us that we were taking things slow. But I was done lying to myself.
“Maybe,” I whispered. “Eventually.”
“Eventually,” he repeated, his voice rough. “But not tonight.”
“Not tonight,” I agreed.
“Then perhaps we should retire to your bed. Platonically. For sleep only.” But the way he said it made it clear that ‘eventually’ was getting closer.
“Platonically,” I echoed. “Sure.”
His smile was wicked. “You are a terrible liar, Gwendolyn Woods.”
“And you’re a terrible influence.”
“The best influences usually are.”
He scooped me up before I could protest and carried me to the bedroom. Laid me down with that same gentleness and climbed in behind me, pulling me close.
But this time, I turned in his arms. Faced him instead of letting him spoon me.
We stared at each other in the darkness. His eyes were still faintly red, glowing just enough that I could see his hungry but patient expression. Always waiting for me to make the choice.
I moved slowly, gave him time to stop me, to pull back. He didn’t move, just watched me with those intense eyes as I closed the distance between us.
And then I kissed him. Just a brush of my lips against his. He went completely still, every muscle locked. For a heartbeat, I thought I’d made a mistake. Pushed too far, moved too fast.
Then his mouth opened under mine and hedevouredme.
There was nothing soft about it, nothing tentative. His hand came up to cup the back of my head, angling me where he wanted. His tongue swept into my mouth and I made a sound that should have been embarrassing but came out more desperate than anything else.
He tasted like the wine from dinner. Like mint from the toothpaste, like pure male and need and mine. I kissed him back with everything I had. Matched his intensity, his hunger. My hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, deeper,more.
Finally.
He groaned into my mouth. The sound vibrated through me. His other hand gripped my hip, pulling me flush against him until I could feel exactly how affected he was. Hard and hot and pressing against my stomach through the thin fabric of our clothes.
I rocked against him without thinking, seeking friction, relief from the ache building between my thighs.
His hand on my hip tightened to the point of pain. He tore his mouth away from mine, breathing hard.
“Stop,” he growled. “Little mate, you must stop or I will not be able to.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
