“Do you know what you do to me?” he said against my ear before he bent his head and kissed the sensitive spot just beneath it. My head tilted away, welcoming more of his mouth.
Fear shifted over me, one thigh pressing between mine as his mouth moved along my jaw, my throat, his hands roaming slowly over my body now with less restraint than before. Heat coiled low in my belly.
His hand slid down my thigh to grip himself, to tease his tip against my need. He seemed to take his time, savoring that, even as I made sounds that might even be considered whiney.
“Fear,” I murmured, full of protest.
He grinned, unapologetically smug now, but it was only a momentary reprieve. His need for me was written in the tension in his shoulders as he leaned over me and finally,finally, slid inside me.
My heels dug into the small of his back, my thighs locking around him; I thrust my hips up to take his cock more eagerly, more needily, than he would have given it to me.
As I rocked up into him, his cock filled me painfully. I could barely take all of him, but that didn’t stop me from rocking myself up even as he paused, taking him until he was all the way in, my thighs against his hips, my clit pressing his smooth skin. I gasped at the feeling of taking him all the way, but that didn’t stop me.
“Gods, Cara. You feel so good.” He began to move, easing out of me slowly and then back in fast, rolling his hips that way that hit my inner ache and turned me to nothing but molten, liquid need. “As if you were made for me.”
The feeling of him deep inside me had me clutching at his shoulders. My nails dug into his skin mercilessly, and he groaned as if he liked it.
My core squeezed around him, my orgasm washing me away even if I wanted to hold on. Fear made another rough sound low in his throat and stopped moving entirely, as if he was trying to regain control of himself. But it was too late. I was coming, squeezing around him, and he followed me over the edge. The two of us clung together, our bodies shaking with the power of the orgasm. His gaze was so bright, so golden, that I lost myself in it as I fell apart.
When I came back to earth, he was gathering me into his arms. My clit was still throbbing and sated and raw, and I felt it when he slid his thigh between mine from behind, parting my legs. He pulled me against his front so I was trapped with that wall of warm muscle behind me, his broad arm the perfect pillow.
His hand traced gently over my hair, tucking it back.
“You are very good at distracting me,” I admitted.
“I’m going to be smug about it later.”
“You’re smug about it now, and you should be.”
He laughed, and I felt his teeth against my shoulder before he shifted into kissing me tenderly.
“Sleep, Cara. We’ll save the kingdom tomorrow. For tonight, you’re safe.”
It was ridiculous. But he held me as if he would stay between me and all the darkness that pressed in against us, and I fell into a deep sleep, curled in his arms.
In the morning, I woke too early, but I was grateful. Fear was already gone, though he’d be far more cheerful than me on far less sleep. The shifters were annoying and superior in so very many ways.
I dressed and came out into the corridor, expecting to find him holding court, manipulating people and managing a war on many fronts.
The common room at the bottom of the stairs smelled of smoke and the salt of the sea coming through the cracked shutters.
Maura sat at the table by the window, a wrapped bundle balanced on her knees. When her gaze met mine, I stuttered to a stop.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning.” I looked around for the kettle, but she nodded toward the chair across from her. A cup and kettle were steaming on the table. “Fear left your tea.”
He excelled at pretending to be a good husband. I wondered how he would be if he were actually being a husband and not just play-acting. “Did Fear leave you here as my bodyguard?”
“No,” Maura said shortly. “You are well-guarded.”
She nodded toward the window. I leaned to look: Fear in conversation with other shifters on the cobblestones below, watchful, still attentive. Looking up at the rooflines, I could just make out a dragon watching, his silhouette dark against the gray morning sky.
“Why are you here? Obsidian’s taking bets on when you’ll be laid on your cloak.”
It felt like being slapped. “How much did you bet?”
Her gaze met mine. Her large eyes were striking, a deep shade of purple. “I bet on you.”
