They barely made it to the cabin.
Aero had spent a week being patient. Waiting for her to heal. Giving her space. Being appropriate. He’d held her every night in the narrow bed at the Siren’s Rest, feeling her warmth against him, breathing in the living warmth of her skin, and forced himself to be content with that.
His dragon was done being appropriate.
The ceremony had been torture—standing before the entire town, declaring feelings he’d spent centuries denying, all while Cassia stood beside him in a dress that clung to curves he’d been forbidden to touch for seven endless days. By the time Sue dismissed them, his control was hanging by threads.
They’d left the Overlook at a dignified walk. Made it to the tree line. And then Aero had Cassia pressed against an oak, his mouth on her throat, his hands sliding beneath the silk of her dress.
“Cabin,” she gasped, her fingers tangled in his hair. “Unless you want to give the seagulls a show.”
He growled against her skin but forced himself to step back. Grabbed her hand. Practically dragged her the remaining distance to his cabin, dignity be damned.
The moment the door closed behind them, he had her pinned against it.
His mouth found hers—desperate, demanding, centuries of restraint crumbling into need. She matched him stroke for stroke, her nails raking down his back, her magic crackling against his skin in sparks of pure electricity.
“I’ve been waiting,” she gasped as he tore at the fastenings of her dress. “A whole week of you holding me and not?—”
“I know.” He found the zipper, yanked it down, watched the silk pool at her feet. Underneath, she wore scraps of lace that stole the breath right out of him. “I wanted you fully healed.”
“I’ve been healed for days.”
“I wanted to be sure.” He unhooked her bra with hands that weren’t entirely steady, cupping her breasts as the fabric fell away. “I want you to feel everything.”
She arched into his touch, her head falling back against the door. “Then stop talking and make me feel.”
He lifted her—she weighed nothing, less than nothing—and carried her to the bedroom. Laid her across his bed and stood back to look.
She was beautiful. Wild dark hair spread across his pillows, tangled from his hands. Her eyes dark with want. Body flushed and trembling, wearing nothing but scraps of lace that hid absolutely nothing.
Soon, he promised himself. Let me worship her first.
“Stop staring.” Cassia’s voice was breathless, her hips shifting restlessly on the sheets. “I’ve been waiting a week. I can’t wait anymore.”
“You’ll wait as long as I want you to wait.” He stripped off his shirt, his pants, everything that separated him from her. “I’ve been planning this for days, Cassia. You’re going to lie there and let me take my time.”
“Arrogant bastard.”
“You love it.”
He crawled over her, bracing himself above her body, and kissed her—slow and thorough and nothing like the desperate claiming against the door. This was intentional. Deliberate. The kiss of a man who had all the patience in the world and intended to use every second of it.
She moaned against his mouth, trying to pull him down, trying to rush him. He didn’t let her. Caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, holding her captive as his mouth trailed down her throat.
“Aero—”
“Shh.” He found her pulse point, sucked hard enough to leave a mark. “I told you. My time.”
He explored her body with systematic thoroughness—learning what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her curse his name in creative combinations. Her breasts, perfect and responsive, nipples hardening under his tongue. Her stomach muscles jumping as he traced patterns on her skin. The curve of her hip, the hollow of her throat, the sensitive spot behind her ear that made her writhe.
By the time he settled between her thighs, she was trembling, her breath coming in desperate pants.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, I need?—”
“Tell me what you need.”
“You. Inside me. Now.” Her hips lifted, seeking contact. “I’m dying, Aero. Please.”
