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I leaned forward and kissed him gently. I didn’t know how else to tell him that it was going to be okay, that he was doing a good job. Whatever haunted him wasn’t here. I wanted him to let go, but I wouldn’t presume that it was that simple.
Nothing ever was.
All I knew was that being with Wesley felt right, and that’s what I wanted right now—to be so close to him that we were one, and I couldn’t tell us apart anymore.
Wesley was hesitant, kissing me carefully as if this moment would break and I would evaporate. Or he would.
Slowly, his kisses became more urgent, more sure.
He cupped my cheeks, his hands so large his fingers reached into my hair, and his tongue slid into my mouth, tasting, probing. It was like a question, and I answered it, my tongue sliding over his.
I sighed into his mouth and melted against him. Heat washed over my body. I wanted Wesley in every way I could have him—not only physically, but emotionally, too. I didn’t try to convince myself that this wasn’t happening. I didn’t try to tell myself I wasn’t falling for him.
Fallen. Past tense, because it had already happened.
The last couple of weeks, I’d seen so much kindness and goodness in Wesley, despite the hard, cold front he kept throwing up around himself, and I couldn’t help but believe that he was the guy I was meant to be with.
Wesley stood, sliding off the barstool so that it scraped backward, and he pulled me against him. I slid off the barstool, too. I stood on my toes and kissed him, getting lost in the feel of his heat enveloping me like a cocoon.
We pressed our bodies together, trying to get closer to each other. We were both dressed, and I wanted to get out of our clothes so that there was nothing between us.
Wesley broke the kiss and took my hand. He pressed his lips against my knuckles, his eyes locking on mine. Heat filled his eyes, the primal hunger I’d come to love when he looked at me like that, but there was something vulnerable underneath it all.
He led me away from the bar, down the hallway and toward his bedroom. He shut the door, so that we were alone, but he didn’t march me to the bed and have his way with me. Instead, he kissed me again, and his kisses were as gentle as they were demanding. Wesley was all alpha, and despite his rare display of emotion, he was still taking charge.
A shiver ran down my spine. He grabbed me by the ass and pulled me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he pushed me up against the wall. I didn’t even feel the cold. All I knew was Wesley and the intense heat that spilled into the room. His power grew around us, and it became incredible, tugging at my core. I felt like it was inside of me, too. It tugged at my insides, asking for something I wasn’t sure how to answer.
Wesley ground his cock against my core. He was large and hard and ready for me, and my jeans were in the way.
As if he was thinking the same thing, he turned around and took me to the bed. He lowered me onto the mattress and undid my pants, carefully sliding them down my legs. His eyes roamed hungrily over every inch of skin as he undressed me, and I stared at him, my hunger for him growing with every second he looked at me like I was a feast laid out in front of him.
My skin burned, and I was on fire for him, the heat pooling between my legs so that I got wetter and wetter.
Wesley kissed me again, his body curled over mine, and I panted into his mouth. He growled in response. I had the feeling his animal was very close to the surface, but Wesley was always in control with me. His dragon was present, but it slid behind his eyes and under his skin rather than coming to life under my fingers. The dragon’s large, black body didn’t show itself, and the man who touched me was all Wesley.
I reached down between us and cupped his erection through the tracksuit pants he’d put on after he’d come home and gotten dressed. His cock was thick when I rubbed my hand up and down it, straining against his pants. I pulled the waistband away and reached into his pants, wrapping my fingers around his shaft. He sucked his breath in between his teeth and groaned so deeply it sounded like another growl.
His eyes glowed cerulean, and he lifted his hand and traced his fingertips down my cheek, my jawbone, before he slid his hand onto my neck. His hand was large enough that he could grip my throat, and he did. He had me in the palm of his hand, and he could crush me, but I trusted him with my life.
Wesley would never hurt me, and if I asked him to stop—not just this, but anything—I knew he wouldn’t hesitate. Wesley respected me, and he treated me like I was something rare, something special.
When he looked at me like that, touched me like that, I felt like Iwassomething special.
Wesley kissed me again, his kisses became more urgent, filled with fire. He pinned my body down on the mattress, my hand caught between our bodies, and ground himself against me so that I felt my own sex as well as his.
I pulled my hand free, and he placed a hand on my hip, holding me in place and driving me wild.
I wanted him to take me. I wanted to give everything to him, but I wanted to please him, too. I hadn’t had a chance to do that. Wesley was a man who took charge, but he hadn’t allowed me close enough to give anything in return. He’d held me at arm’s length before.
When I pushed against his chest, he broke the kiss and lifted himself off me. I nudged him back so that he lay on the mattress.
I clambered onto him and kissed him, my hair brushing his chest. I shifted down, sitting on his cock, although he still wore his pants. I worked his shirt up his body, exposing his torso, and leaned down. I planted kisses all over him, tasting him. His skin was hotter than it should have been, but I’d become used to that. The heat came with the magic, and this was normal for Wesley. He always seemed to be on the verge of a fever, but never sick. Were the dragon and its magic always that close to the surface?
Wesley lifted himself up and pulled his shirt over his head with a swift movement. He tossed it to the side, and I ran my hands over him, tracing his muscles. His body was blemish free, with no scars at all.
Circe had told me that shifters healed quickly and easily, and they didn’t have scars as reminders of their pain. Not unless the injuries were severe and there was a reason why they couldn’t heal right.
It seemed to me that Wesley’s scars were all on the inside.
