Noweverythingis possible, and I do not have to fight my need for her any longer.
“Ready?” I ask.
Her scent changes from aroused to nervous. She pulls away and glances around. “Where do you want me? Should we get somewhere more comfortable?”
Do we need to? I want her to feel good, though, and if she wants a more comfortable spot, we will find one. I glance around and see nothing but heaps of the square piles of metal. Cars. They look like a good height, at least. I pick Dakota up by her hips—enjoying her gasp of surprise—and she flings her arms around my neck. Carrying her, I find a car that seems to be a good height and set her on the front of it. “This good?”
“I can make this work,” she says, hooking her heel into my back and tugging me toward her with her foot. “Can we kiss some more?”
I chuckle, because kissing is my favorite thing to do. “Many, many kisses.”
And now I need to kiss her enough to turn her scent from nervous back to excitement again.
CHAPTER 61
MURR
The thoughtof my bite makes her nervous. It’s evident from the way her scent has changed from sweet arousal to an acrid tang. My teeth are much sharper than hers, and perhaps it is that which unnerves her. Should I tell her the bite is not to take a chunk of her flesh but to inject her with venom instead?
Perhaps it is just best to kiss her until she cannot get enough of me.
I do not mind this at all.
Kissing Dakota has become one of my favorite things. I look forward to sunset each day because it means that it will be dark soon, and darkness means kisses. If I can kiss her in broad daylight, even better. So I kiss her all over her lovely, strange face. I kiss the pale skin that has no scales, and the mouth that closes over blunt, square teeth. I kiss her small nose and the brow that has no horns, and the creases around her mouth that appear when she worries too much. She worries because she cares, and I love that about her. I want to kiss all her worries away. I kiss every bit of exposed skin, curling my claws in hersoft mane and holding her as I nip and tease the column of her neck.
And I want to kiss more.
In the last month—how humans measure the time it takes for the moon to become full and disappear again—I have lived at Dakota’s side. I have watched her bathe herself many times, swiping a wet, soapy cloth over her limbs with quick, brisk motions. In all this time, I have not seen all of her. She is careful to keep herself concealed from me, and I have often wondered what it would be like to touch her without all the layers she piles atop her body. I never ask, because I have always considered myself unworthy of her. Broken.
But I am not broken, and I am going to ask now.
“Touch here?” I ask, stroking a knuckle along her delicate collarbone. “Good?”
Dakota nods, her eyes soft as she watches me. Her hands drift over my arms and my upper chest, as if she wants to touch me but is worried as to how much I will allow.
I take her hand and gently press her palm on my chest, over my heart. “Dakota touch good. Touch Murr all body.” I pull her hand downward. “All good.”
She shivers, her gaze flicking to mine. Her hand goes to the loin wrap I wear and she pauses at the waist, holding it there. That is fine. Let her get used to the idea of touching me. She can take as long as she needs. I nuzzle at her throat, kissing and licking the skin there before I drag my knuckle down to the slope of one breast.
“Touch here?” I ask.
Her voice goes husky. “Yes.”
Now we are getting somewhere. I tug on the layer that covers her torso, wanting to expose her to my gaze. I pull it up and up, and she lifts her arms so I can pull it over her head…only to reveal another smaller layer underneath covering her breasts.
What is it with humans and their layers?!
The moment the shirt is pulled off, she clutches it to her chest. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this out in the open,” she says. “Anyone could see.”
I do not want her to be uncomfortable, but bodies are not things to be hidden or ashamed of. “Murr see. Dakota no want?”
“It’s not that,” she says, and peeks over my shoulder. “What if someone sneaks up on us? Rabbit? Or Aggie?”
“Murr smell,” I reassure her, tapping my nose. “No sneak.”
She points at the sky. “What if someone flies overhead?”
“See Murr back.” I touch each of my shoulders as if to demonstrate what any drakoni would see if they looked down. I lean in closer to her, drinking in her heady scent. I move closer, as if to kiss her again, and whisper. “See Murr kiss wife.”
