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“Not now,” he said, leaning closer, steadily crowding her until she had no choice but to sit back against the headboard. He took up all of the space, surrounding her on all sides.
“I want to be bare for you now,” he rumbled in that vibrating purr.
“I want to feel your skin upon my skin. Your lips upon my lips. The way we were in the dream. When I made you wet and slippery at your core. When I made you melt and splinter apart for me.”
Well, then.
Brigid wasn’t going to argue with that.
She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer, until his thighs bracketed her hips, and his manhood jutted against her belly.
His arms braced upon the wooden board on either side of her head, and he slowly leaned down to her, brushing his closed mouth across her forehead, then over her brows and eyelids. Over each cheek and the places where her dimples hid. Across her chin and down her throat.
He inhaled deeply as he went, simply grazing her with his soft, full lips. Scenting her. Learning her.
Her breath hitched with dreamy anticipation; her pulse raced at his closeness.
This wild thing that held so much power in his lithe, leanly muscular body. So ferocious, yet so tender. Dangerous, even lethal. But never to her.
She used this opportunity to gorge herself upon his intoxicating scent. A sunbaked, salty, stormy musk that perfectly captured the essence of both the dragon and the man.
Wide-eyed innocence and innate carnality. Unfathomable strength and hidden vulnerability.
He was everything she’d dreamed and infinitely more. Fantasy could never compare to the reality of Sai.
Right here. In her arms.
“Touch me, Brigid,” he commanded, his voice frayed by an urgency she’d never heard before.
“I…I need you.”
His mouth came back to hers and pressed upon them intently, though he kept them closed. A frustrated growl emanated from his chest, making him part his lips to release a shuddering sigh.
In this, Brigid knew exactly how to assuage his need.
Experienced lover, she was not. But shehadpracticed kissing a ripe peach, an apple, an aubergine, a tomato, and all kinds of fruits and vegetables over the years.
And she’d glimpsed a passionate embrace now and again between besotted couples back home. Not the pecks that Uncle Charles and Aunt Camille gave one another.
Therealkind of kisses. Hot, open-mouthed ones that set couples to panting and grasping and bodies to heaving against one another in a dance older than time.
She used her accumulated knowledge now as she opened her mouth against his and licked along the seam of his lips with her bold, seeking tongue.
He immediately opened wider, letting her inside. They both groaned at the instant conflagration of heat and lust. Of liquid need and molten desire.
He mimicked the thrust and retreat of her tongue with his, rubbing that sleek, hot muscle along hers, licking into her mouth, undulating smoothly inside.
Oh God! She felt like drowning.
Tidal waves of passion crashed upon her, pulling her relentlessly into their undertow. The world seemed to spin around her as she kissed him, and he kissed her.
She didn’t know if she remembered to breathe. Probably not. For, her chest heaved with belabored gasps. But she didn’t want to come up for air.
Hewas her air.
Her water and food. All she ever needed to live.
To feel incandescentlyalive.
