Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

instant she said no, he’d back off and give her space.
    All right. So it would kill him if she did.
    No wasn’t a word he liked to hear. At least not very often. And especially not now when he finally had Angela in his arms and wanted to be deep inside her. Wanted it so badly his heart pounded and his balls ached. But that didn’t mean he would cross the line. He wasn’t like the rogue who’d hurt her. Rikar needed her to know that he could touch her without the heat of expectation. That he would wait until she was ready.
    That the lesson came with added benefits—namely tangling his tongue with hers, tasting her deep while her hands drifted through his hair? Oh, man, he loved her heat, the softness of her mouth, her taste, and God, the sounds she made. Each sigh, every soft moan, cranked him tighter until the bastard behind his button fly begged for release.
    Time to stop.
    With a groan, Rikar nipped her bottom lip, then retreated. She murmured in protest. Unable to stop himself, he returned, kissed her gently, but in the end pulled away again. He wanted to continue. Could go on kissing her forever, but that would defeat the purpose. And the lesson. He was only a male, after all. With faults and weaknesses. And a libido that was now in overdrive. Much more of her taste and…fuck him, he’d be trying to undress her.
    So instead of unzipping her hoodie like he was dying to do, he distracted himself by asking, “You okay, love?”
    “Um-hmm.” Her eyelashes flickered again. On a soft exhale, she rubbed her eyes, and Rikar felt her mind sharpen. “I was scared at first, but then…I wasn’t.”
    He bit down on a grin. Okay, maybe “sharpen” wasn’t quite the right word. She was still fuzzy around the edges, coming back a little at a time. “Good.”
    “You didn’t hurt me.”
    She sounded surprised. Rikar didn’t blame her. Would’ve been just as surprised had he been brutalized by—
    Christ. No way.
    His enemy didn’t belong anywhere near her. Or this bed. Not in thought. Nor in deed. Lothair would get what was coming to him—his fucking head ripped off. Here and now was for Angela. For him. For them and the new start he wanted to make.
    Leaning in, he nestled his cheek against hers. “The last thing I want to do, angel, is hurt you.”
    “I know,” she whispered, breaking down the doors to his heart one thump at a time.
    Her trust floored him. Her courage, too. And as he came unhinged, Rikar hugged her close, his throat so tight he could hardly breathe, never mind talk. He managed to anyway and rasped, “You are the most extraordinary female I’ve ever met.”
    “Met a lot of us, have you?” She rubbed her cheek against his, the movement playful. “What’s the tally?”
    Rikar blinked. Was she actually asking him how many females he’d been with? Man, he hoped not, ’cause…hell. He’d lost count years ago.
    Propping himself on his elbow, he pulled back, needing to see her face. A teasing glint in her eyes, she grinned at him. But he saw it for what it was…a deflection. She wanted to change the subject. To move out of uncomfortable territory—his feelings for her—and onto safer ground. He held her gaze, trying to decide whether to let her sidestep him. In the end, he gave in and retreated. Pushing her too far, too fast wouldn’t do him any favors. He’d take what he could get. And with her still snuggled against him, the getting was pretty damn good.
    He raised a brow and teased her back. “Should I be asking you the same question?”
    Angela snorted. “I’m not the one with the number crisis.”
    Number crisis . Freaking female. She knew exactly where to hit him. Right below the belt.
    Faking an offended look, he sputtered, making a show of it for her. She laughed, and his heart lightened at the sound. He wanted to hear more of it, and so often her smile became the status quo when he was around. He shook his head, acting his ass off, praying she laughed again. She didn’t disappoint. Hiding her grin behind her hand, her eyes sparkled as she gazed up at him. He gave her a stern look. More laughter. Shit, he deserved one of those shiny Oscars.
    “All right, angel,” he murmured, tapping the end of her nose. “You’ve had your fun, so…you gonna tell me now?”
    “What’s that?”
    “Why you came down here? With fucking cookies, no less and—”
    “Shortbread…there’s a difference, you know.”
    “—what you found out from the asshole down the hall,” he