Page 45 of Dragon’s Rebel

She guided his lips to hers. “Dammit, Thorne,” she whispered against them. “I care about you. And you need to come the hell back, because the world needs you.” I need you.

She kissed him.

This was nothing like a little squinched-up peck on the side of a dragon’s head. His lips were hot and wild, soft and yielding, all too human.

He groaned softly, a growl she could feel in his chest, and he pulled her to him, devouring her lips like a drowning man devours water.

His hand dug into the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her even closer, pulling the kiss deeper. Her breasts were flat against the hard hot planes of his chest, and her awareness flickered so at one moment they were skin to skin, and the next moment with the barrier of her clothes between them.

She realized dimly that she was half in the real world, half in the spirit world, sharing Thorne’s vision and yet anchoring him to earth, to reality, to life.

She tried to pour her life essence into him with the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, sliding one hand down his chest.

She could feel his shaft hard against her thigh, and she reached down to stroke it. His back arched and he let out another moan.

As she had in his visions, she could feel what he felt—the clench of his belly and the burning in his groin, the heat of his desire overwhelming everything else.

He wanted her so badly. He needed her—needed her to fill the deep well of loneliness he’d felt from the moment he realized he was different, he didn’t belong, that he was a shame and an embarrassment, when all he wanted was to serve the Draken and the world as a Guardian.

And then that had happened for him, but only in a way that brought more heartache and pain.

She almost didn’t want to bring him back, knowing more heartache and pain might lie ahead.

But she knew beyond a doubt that she couldn’t let him go.