lips compressed primly. “You’re horrible. You know that, don’t you?”
“Horribly good, and horribly hard, and horribly impatient. Now, are we, or aren’t we?” he asked, sauntering toward her, relaxed, easy, his arms loose at his sides. But it was a deceptive ease, and they both knew it as the temperature in the luxurious bedroom seemed to soar and the air sparked with heat and need, the tension between them thick and hot and electric.
Closing the gap between them, Drakon could feel Morgan tense, her hands squeezing in convulsive fists, even as her eyes widened and her lips parted with each quick shallow breath.
“You’re trembling,” he said, “but there’s no need for that. I won’t eat you. Not unless you want me to.”
“Drakon.” Her voice sounded strangled and her cheeks were crimson, making her blue eyes darken and shimmer like the sapphire sea beyond the window.
“I hope you’ll want me to. I love how you taste, and how soft you are in my mouth … so sweet. But is that too risky for you? Pushing the limits too much?”
“You love to torment me.”
“Yes, I do,” he agreed, circling her slowly, enjoying just looking at her, and watching the color come and go in her exquisite porcelain complexion, and listening to her soft desperate gasps of air. “But this is nothing, Morgan. I haven’t even gotten started.” He stopped in front of her, gazed down at her, thinking she looked very young and very uncertain and very shy, much like his virgin bride. “Now tell me, what should I do to you first?”
Morgan’s heart was pounding so fast she couldn’t catch her breath, and she opened her mouth, lips parting, to gulp in shallow gasps of air. She felt as if she were balancing on the edge of a volcano while little voices inside her head demanded she throw herself in.
She needed to leave, to escape the villa, to summon the helicopter and fly far, far away. Remaining here with Drakon was stupid and destructive. She might as well fling herself into that volcano … the outcome would be the same.
And yet, wasn’t she already there, in the fiery pit? Because molten lava seemed to be seeping through her veins, melting her bones and muscles into mindless puddles of want and need.
She actually felt sick with need right now. But could she do this … go through with this … knowing it would be just sex, not love? Knowing Drakon wanted her body but not her heart?
“Are you crying?” he asked, his voice dropping, deepening with concern, as his hands wrapped around her arms, holding her up.
She shook her head, unable to look him in the eye.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She swallowed hard, tried to speak, but no sound would come out. Not when her throat ached and her heart was still thundering in her chest.
He reached up to smooth a dark tendril of hair back from her face. “Have I frightened you?” His deep voice was suddenly gentle, almost painfully tender.
Hot tears scalded the back of her eyes. She bit hard into her lower lip so that it wouldn’t quiver.
“I would never hurt you, Morgan,” he murmured, drawing her against him, holding her in his arms, holding her securely against his chest.
She closed her eyes as the heat of his body seeped into her hands, warming her. He felt good. Too good. It was so confusing. This was confusing.
She didn’t push him away, and yet she couldn’t relax, waiting for the moment he’d let her go. But she didn’t want him to let her go. She wanted him closer. Wanted to press her face to his chest and breathe him in. She could smell a hint of his spicy fragrance and loved that fragrance—his own scent, formulated just for him—and what it did to his skin. He smelled like heaven. Delicious and warm and good and intoxicating. He smelled like everything she wanted. He smelled like home. He was home. He was everything to her, but wasn’t that the problem? With him, she lost herself. With him, she lost her mind.
With a strangled cry, Morgan slid a hand up across his chest, to push him back, and just like before, once she touched him, she couldn’t take her hand away. She stroked across the hard plane of muscle of his chest, learning again the shape of his body and how the dense smooth pectoral muscle curved and sloped beneath her palm. God, he was beautiful. And without his shirt, his skin would feel so good against hers. She loved the way his bare chest felt against her bare breasts, loved the friction and the heat and the delicious, addictive energy—
“Can’t do this,” she choked, shaking her head. “We can’t, we can’t.”
“Ssshh,” he murmured, cupping her face, his thumbs stroking lightly over her cheekbones, sweeping from the curve of the bone to her earlobes. “Nothing bad will happen—”
“Everything bad will happen,” she protested, shivering with pleasure from the caress. She loved the way he touched her. He made her feel beautiful, inside and out, and she struggled to remember what bad things would happen if he touched her….
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, hands slipping from her face to tangle in her hair.
“And mad, Drakon, certifiably insane—”
“That’s okay.”
“Drakon, I’m serious!”
“I am, too.” His head dipped lower and his lips brushed hers, lightly, slowly, and she shuddered, pressed closer, a stinging sensation behind her eyes. One kiss … could it be so bad? One kiss … surely she could be forgiven that?
His lips found hers again and the kiss was surprisingly gentle, the pressure of his mouth just enough to tease her, send shivers of desire racing up and down her spine. This was all so impossible. They couldn’t do this, couldn’t give in to this, it’s all they had and while the chemistry was intense, chemistry wasn’t enough. Sex wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed a relationship, love, intimacy, commitment, but right now, she also needed this.
She’d missed him so much. Missed his skin and his scent, his warmth and his strength, and her defenses caved as his hands framed her face, and he held her face to his, deepening the kiss, drinking her in.
She could feel him and smell him and taste him now and she was lost. Nothing felt better than this. Nothing felt better than him. He wasn’t just her husband, he was home and happiness—
No. No, no, no. Couldn’t think that way, couldn’t lose sight of reality. He wasn’t home or happiness. And he’d finally agreed to let her go. After five years of wanting out, and she did want out, she was free.
And yet when his tongue stroked the seam of her lips, she arched and gasped, opening her mouth to him. Drakon deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking the inside of her lip, making every little nerve dance. One of his hands slid from the back of her head, down over her shoulders to her waist before settling in the small of her spine, urging her closer, shaping her against his powerful body.
She shuddered with pleasure as his tongue filled her mouth and the fingers of his hand splayed wider on her back, making her lower belly throb, ache, just like her thighs ached.
Every thrust of his tongue shot another bright arc of sensation through her, sensation that surged to the
