Her laugh follows me out into the night, warm as the glow spilling from her windows. “Let me help you take off that tail.”
I drop my voice, leaning in close enough to catch the vanilla-and-cinnamon clinging to her skin. “If you want me to strip, you only have to ask.”
Her eyes go wide, a strangled sound catching in her throat. She’s so easy to fluster. Adorable.
I open the shed door before she combusts, then find the ladder and make quick work of the drooping fairy lights tangled across her gutter. It’s nothing, five minutes tops, but the way she hovers in the doorway, chewing her lip, watching me as if I’ve just slayed a dragon for her warms my chest.
She shuffles back inside, and I follow. Her living room is a mess of books, cats, and chaos. And then I spot the shelf.
Row after row of worn paperbacks. Half of them with covers of bare-chested men sprouting scales and wings. The other half cartoon monsters holding a curvy girl, most of them dragons.
A laugh rumbles in my chest before I can stop it. “Dragons, huh?”
She groans, grabbing the nearest cushion and half hiding her face. “Don’t you dare.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I pluck a book from the shelf, flipping it open. “‘When his scales brushed her skin, she knew she’d been claimed.’” I smirk at her over the top of the pages. “So this is your type?”
“Stop.” She swats at me with the cushion, cheeks blazing.
I drop the book, step closer. The air thickens between us. “What if I told you I’m better than fiction?”
Her smile falters. “Drake…”
“And this dragon has a particular craving for pumpkin.”
She swallows hard, shaking her head. “We can’t. I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” I take another step, caging her against the bookcase.
“I can’t give you what you want.”
I arch a brow, playing it light because she looks ready to bolt. “Why? You secretly a nun?”
That earns me a startled laugh, and relief floods through me.
“I don’t do relationships,” she says, quieter this time, pain in her voice.
I dip my head, my eyebrows pulling inwards, wondering what that bastard in the photo did to her. “I’m not asking for forever.” My voice drops lower, my lips brush the shell of her ear. “Just a slice of pumpkin pie.”
Her breath hitches, green eyes darting to my mouth. “I’m too old for you.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I brush my lips against hers, no more than a whisper, then gaze into her eyes to check she wants this.
“I’m your daughter’s teacher.” Her wide eyes are swirling with a mix of fear and wanting.
“You’re her favourite teacher.” I dart my tongue out to wet my lips.
“Drake…” My name on her breath like a plea has my cock thickening.
“Ember.” I wait, searching her eyes for any sign that she wants this or doesn’t want this, but the green in her eyes sparkles as if giving me the green light, and I crash my lips to hers.
A moan vibrates against my lips, hers parting, allowing me to slip my tongue through the barrier. She tastes of chili, cider and sweets. My tongue swirls around hers, licking at every corner of her mouth. My cock, now rigid as a fire hose at full pressure, only I’m not here to put out any fires. With the heat blazing between us, I’m here to start them.
Her costume squeaks against me as she tries to wriggle free of it.
My dragon suit tangles around my ankles, and we both fall onto the sofa.
A laugh bursts from our lips. She rolls, groaning, “I’m stuck!” and I’m no help, doubled over, tugging at her orange tights like I’m peeling a stubborn orange.
