Dragonfury 01 - Fury of Fire

touch her. And here she was, naked in bed with Bastian wanting her. She was so tempted, and he was…a freaking sex god or something. No way he could look and smell like he did if he didn’t have some powerful mojo working for him.
    Myst swallowed when his gaze dropped to her lips. He paused, his own mouth parting, his breath coming faster, his eyes drifting lower. He skimmed over her: first her breasts, then her belly, and finally, the curls between her thighs. Heat bloomed, pooling at her core as he licked his bottom lip as though he was imagining what she tasted like there.
    Desire sent her sideways into the path of anticipation as his gaze returned to hers. She shivered, seeing the wildness in him—all the pleasure he promised without words. And as he reached out and curled his hand around her wrist, she leaned toward him instead of away. Allowed him to tug her off balance, onto her hands and knees above him.
    Still propped on one elbow, his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers, he taunted without touching. “Say yes.”
    Need made her lose her mind. It was the only explanation. The only reason she closed the distance between them. There were so many questions left unanswered. So many things she needed to know about him. About Dragonkind. But common sense had flown, and as her lips brushed his, Myst whispered the one word she never should have, “Yes.”

     
    As Myst leaned in, Bastian’s heart went jackrabbit, pounding the inside of his chest. Her trust floored him. The gentle brush of her mouth ruined him. And lust? Hell, that bastard lit his fire then poured gasoline on the flames.
    The result? Passion’s equivalent of a Molotov cocktail.
    Boom. Lights out. Good-fucking-night.
    Which wasn’t his MO at all. He was always in control with every female he spread beneath him. But not with Myst. She was different. Special in a way he found hard to describe, but felt just the same.
    Her hands on his skin. Her soft mouth against his. Her scent in every breath he took. Jesus. He couldn’t get enough.
    Inhaling hard, he dragged her into his lungs, struggling to keep it together. To let her touch him. To give her all the time she wanted to explore.
    But…oh, man.
    Each caress cranked him higher until nothing existed but him, her, and the wicked pleasure she gave him. Which was backward on every level that counted. He should be the one touching her, taking the lead—blowing her mind, making her beg—not the other way around.
    Except, he shouldn’t be making love to her at all.
    Not without telling her the truth of his kind. But he couldn’t stop kissing her. Couldn’t slow down long enough to tell her he had something important to say. His drive to please her had taken over, pushing him past the point of no return. Which was so unfair—to her, not him. She deserved the truth before he laid her down and loved her hard. Should know how much she meant to him.
    There were so many things he’d left unsaid. She had a right to know about the energy exchange. About how Dragonkind males sustained themselves. About what he took each time he touched her, but…
    Goddamn it. She tasted too good. Felt too right poised above him. And the current of energy flowing between them? The Meridian turned incendiary, burning a trail through his veins. And as Myst lit him up she linked in, completing the connection until energy flowed in a continuous loop, from her to him then back.
    Addicted to the power she wielded, Bastian moaned and, elbows planted on the bed, tipped his face up, seeking more of her. With a hum, she kissed him softly and, in that moment, he copped out. Knew he wasn’t going to tell her the truth about himself. Not now, when he had her naked in his arms.
    Fuck. Could he be any more of an asshole?
    Probably. But the fear of losing her made him that way. Rejection was a high-flying bitch without brakes. Once it was airborne, pain followed closely behind. No way would he risk it without making love to her first. Later. They would talk later…after he had the taste of her on his tongue and her scent on his skin.
    One afternoon with her would never be enough. He knew it, but didn’t care. A few hours were better than none at all. So, selfish or not, he would take her. Store the memories away to reach for another time just in case she never let him touch her again.
    Shifting his weight onto one elbow, he snaked his other arm around her. He drew her closer, smoothed his hand down her spine, then moved up again,