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“Yes,” he replied shortly, tugging open his shirt collar.
“I took a cleansing swim in the river out back, as well as consumed a few carp and trout while I was there. I prefer fresh fish when I can get it, rather than the cooked food you humans eat.”
“Oh,” she said, still inanely.
“That’s good.”
It wasn’t her fault for being distracted. That her normal intelligence had plummeted several rungs. The godly creature had stripped out of his coat, vest and boots. He had his shirt unbuttoned and was currently reaching back to pull it off his head.
She never took items of her own clothing off in that motion. It seemed like a fundamentally masculine move.
Emphasized by the naked torso that was revealed. Every muscle delineated in stark precision. Like a man carved out of warm moonstone. Translucent pale skin over hard, steely flesh and bones.
Brigid hastily brushed her fingers against her mouth and chin, in case she drooled.
But when she thought he’d taken off enough, he surprised her (delightfully) by continuing to shuck his pants. First, he opened the trouser flap with dexterous fingers, then peeled them down, along with his underpants, in one single, careless shove.
And then—he was standing before her in all his glorious nakedness. His skin burnished in a pale gold glow by the flickering fire and lamplight.
He wasn’t the least bit shy about it either, as evidenced by his next words.
“You enjoy looking at me,” he observed with a small tilt of his head, those glittering diamond eyes trained on her face.
Her uncomfortably warm face.
“Well,” she said, licking her lips and staring blatantly and unblinkingly at his masculine endowments.
“You are a rather magnificent sight to behold.”
She cleared her throat when her voice croaked toward the end.
He lifted his arms akimbo and looked down at himself.
“I am human now, like any other man. Nothing special. You should see my dragon form. Not just in dreams but in real life.”
“Oh, I’m certain the sight is unparalleled to any experience I shall ever have,” Brigid agreed readily.
Then added, “I do believe, however, that most men don’t look as you do. You are veryspecialindeed.”
He tilted his head in curiosity, waiting for her to expound.
She cleared her throat again and pushed her glasses more firmly up the bridge of her nose. The lenses had started to fog a bit.
Must be all that unseemly panting she couldn’t help doing at the moment.
“The…ah…sword…there…”
She waved in the general direction of his groin.
“I am certain most men have more of a dagger or a dirk when their members are stiff. And I am almost certain that being so stiff isn’t the normal state for their members to be in the first place. But I’ve only ever seen you…well, stiff, so I have no first-hand comparison. Surely, this is an anomaly.”
He stalked—yes,stalked—toward the bed like a dangerous but playful predator. All slink and sleek moves. Fluid sinew and rolling muscles.
“I suppose it is,” he observed, standing beside the bed on his side.
“I have only ever been…stiff…with you.”
With one graceful, cat-like move, he crawled onto the bed and knelt before her, thighs spread. He grasped the base of his man stalk in a tight fist and squeezed when it bucked.
