Nor did the fact that the father of said father-son team had been one of Kellan’s work—
The invisible tug on Ari’s gut, in his groin, intensified to an almost physical pull, tearing a groan from him. An itch bloomed into prickling life between his shoulder blades, up the back of his neck, and across his scalp. Every hair on his body stood on end.
Holding the handgrips of his Harley tighter, Ari sucked in a deep breath.
Watching. Someone watching him.
Right now.
Colin? Or someone else? Something else?
His cock throbbed, straining against the leather of his pants.
His heart beating faster, Ari narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth. He didn’t like this. He was all for sexual pleasure and getting his rocks off with a willing partner, but getting hard when he didn’t know why? It was beginning to freak him out. And piss him—
A car horn blasted behind him.
Jumping at the jarring noise, Ari swung a look over his shoulder at the vehicle behind him.
An elderly woman in a shiny white Tesla waved her hand at him in a hurry-up gesture before stabbing her finger toward the traffic lights.
Ari turned back to the light.
Green. Huh. When had that happened?
The horn sounded again, double-tap style.
He twisted on his seat and grinned at the old woman. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, tipping an invisible hat to her. “Keep your panties on.”
She hit her horn again and flipped him the bird.
“I respect your feistiness, love.” He dropped her a wink and turned back toward the traffic lights, skimming his gaze over the apartment building beside him as he did so.
A woman watched him from one of the building’s windows.
Sexual hunger unlike any Ari had ever experienced before gushed through him at the sight of her. An inferno of pleasure devoured him. His body seemed to ignite with need and urgency and want.
Curves. Curves and dips and hips and breasts and thighs…
Lust raced through him anew, carnal and potent and demanding. His hands burned, branded by the mere thought of cupping and squeezing the unknown woman’s breasts and hips and arse. His cock pulsed. His mind whirled.
His dragon—the base, ancient creature—roared inside his mind, lunging for release. Craving the woman. Craving…
Curves. And hips. And…and…
He stared up at her, incapable of moving. Frozen by her existence even as his body burned with sexual want.
Their eyes clashed over the distance.
His heightened vision locked on hers, and his heart beat faster.
Green. Her eyes were green. Hazel green and framed by thick auburn lashes. Green and full of a hunger as powerful as his. Hunger and confusion and—
She jerked away from the window, gone from his sight.
His dragon roared, furious at being denied. Ari’s body reacted the same, the hungry lust burning through him growing hotter, more demanding. A rain of icy pinpricks washed over him, followed by a tsunami of heat.
Behind him, the elderly woman leaned on her horn again, longer this time.
“Fuck,” Ari muttered, flinging his Harley forward full-throttle through the intersection.
The pull on his gut, his groin, his very existence, deepened. Turned painful. His croi seemed to swell, charged with timeless magic and Fate.
Grinding his teeth, Ari scanned the busy street for a place to pull over.
He understood now, the powerful, impossible-to-deny draw to Harper Street and its reaction on his body. He knew what it meant.
Fire Mate. He’d found the woman destined by ancient magic to be his partner for the rest of his life.
There were many things a dragon shifter could control, and many things a dragon shifter could manipulate, but the power of the mating fire was not one of them.
Dragons could lose their sanity trying. Ari had more than once cleaned up the mess left by those foolish enough to believe they could deny the force of the fated mating.
When a dragon shifter finally encountered their fated mate, when the mating fire began—a twelve-hour period of intense sexual frenzy—well, trying to refuse it, ignore it, ended in pain. Sometimes insanity.
Sometimes death.
Ignoring the mating fire long enough caused a dragon shifter to transform into their dragon form regardless of where they were. If that happened, in the throes of the fire’s heat…
A shudder of cold dread rocked Ari. It threaded through the lust searing his lungs, his veins.
Mating fire. The early stages of the mating fire consumed him, claimed him.
Fuck.
He was in the mating fire and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
All he could do was find the woman and surrender to the magic and lust of their joining. Find her and make her his until neither of them had the strength to stand.
And hope to hell Colin didn’t find them while they were at it.
2
The hunk on the Harley had looked up at her.
Holy crap, the hunk on the Harley had glanced up at her and something had happened. Something…weird.
Jilly pressed her hands to her stomach, her heart wild, her breaths rapid.
What the hell was going on? The second his gaze had found her gawking at him through her living room window, she’d suddenly been hornier than she’d ever been in her life. Her whole body had seemed to be completely awash with pleasure. She’d felt flushed and tingly and breathless and…and moany and aroused all at once. And not just watching-good-porn aroused. No, nothing that sedate. She’d felt like she was in the middle of the most incredible sex of her life with a sexual maestro for a partner, about to burn up with concentrated lust.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Jilly darted her stare around the room. There needed to be an explanation. A girl didn’t just damn near orgasm because some sexy guy on a bike looked at her.
Perhaps Derek had slipped something into her tea while—
Derek didn’t go anywhere near your tea, Jilly. You didn’t go anywhere near your tea. You didn’t even finish making your tea.
A tingling rush licked over her girly parts, as if an invisible tongue stroked her flesh there.
Jilly gasped at the surreal sensation and unexpected pleasure.
Her nipples beaded. Her belly fluttered.
Pressing her thighs together, a frown pulling at her eyebrows, she ran her hand over her stomach. The need to touch herself flooded through her, potent and demanding.
She whimpered, fighting to keep her fingers away from her sex. She didn’t oppose self-gratification, but on her terms. This…thing happening to her now didn’t feel like her terms. Whatever this thing was, it felt…
Incredible. Amazing.
Freaky.
Perfect.
Swallowing at the unsettling thought, Jilly removed her hands from her body.
“Screw this,” she muttered, making her way toward her bedroom, her sex throbbing with a hunger beyond her comprehension.
Whatever was going on with her libido, she stood no chance of concentrating throughout the day until she dealt with it, and at this point in time, Mr. Rabbit was just the thing needed for dealing. She’d give her vibrator a workout and then open up her laptop to see if she could discover more on the dragon thing getting Derek all in a lather.
Although seriously, the only dragon she was interested in was tattooed on her Harley hunk’s arm.
By the time she made it to her bedroom, the flush of arousal heated her whole body and a sticky sheen of perspiration slicked her skin.
“Okay, shower instead,” she muttered, stripping off her shirt and jeans. The jet nozzle on her shower was almost as effective as Mr. Rabbit, and if she had a cool shower, that would deal with her sudden fever.
Her nipples strained against the lace of her bra with wicked torment, and the friction of her panties on her folds made every move a delicious torture.
“Maybe I have got some kind of virus?”
she wondered aloud, studying herself in the bathroom mirror. Her pupils were dilated. Her skin glistened with tiny beads of perspiration, a ridiculous fact given the air-con was switched on and her apartment was like an icebox. “A sudden horny-on-the-cusp-of-an-orgasm virus? Wonder if there’s a NyQuil for something like that?”
She finished getting undressed, biting her bottom lip at the hot pleasure licking through her with every scrape and rub of fabric on her skin.
“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled, dropping her bra to the floor. She toed it aside, all too aware of the trembles quaking her body.
Unnatural hunger ate at her. Scared her. Which was also ridiculous when it came down to it—who got scared about being unexpectedly turned on?
She returned her attention to the mirror, studying her reflection.
It had been a while since she’d truly thought of herself as a sexual being. That had something to do with her last boyfriend, she suspected, who’d dumped her without warning six months ago for a girl almost half her size.
Although dump might not be the most accurate word. Ghosting would be a better word, given one Thursday he just never arrived for their normal dinner and had never contacted her again.
She’d only found out about his new girlfriend when Derek showed her a picture of them both on Instagram, smiling at each other in a clichéd selfie. Her ex wearing the Thor T-shirt given to him by Jilly for his birthday only three weeks earlier. His new girlfriend was in gym wear that showed off her perky size-B boobs and six-pack tummy.
Since seeing that image, Jilly had turned her back on her own sensuality. It really was a farce, after all. The closest she came to allowing herself to indulge in sexual wants were her recent daily fantasies about the hunk on the Harley with his dragon tattoo and her subsequent time with Mr. Rabbit.
Maybe that’s why she was so freaking turned on now? Because he’d looked her way? Perhaps her mind was so pathetic that when their eyes had connected—even for only a microsecond—the very hint of a mutual awareness had awoken in her a neglected, deprived beast of sexual yearnings?
Jilly let out a ragged sigh and turned from the mirror.
This self-directed negativity was a real downer, a waste of her energy, and did nothing to dampen the burning lust threatening to overwhelm her.
Shower time. Massage-jet time.
Biting-her-lip-as-she-made-herself-come time.
“Oh boy,” she huffed, reaching into the shower to turn on the water.
Someone knocked on her apartment door as her fingers curled around the faucet.
She froze, and then twisted around, staring in the direction of her door over her shoulder.
If she answered it, it would mean dealing with the interruption waiting on the other side of the threshold and not dealing with the building arousal smoldering through her.
But what if they didn’t go away?
What if it was Derek? He’d never made a move on her, but she’d known him since their university days, and a tiny part of her wondered if he had a thing for her. What would happen if whatever this weird sexual affliction was flared up in her while she was talking to him and he got the wrong idea? What happened if she couldn’t stop herself and they suddenly found themselves making out and… Oh God, how embarrassing would that—
The knock came again, louder this time.
Jilly’s heart thumped hard in her throat. Her girly bits throbbed, contracting in anticipation.
Anticipation of what? What do you think is going to happen?
“Fuck it,” she growled, turning away from the shower and snatching a towel from the rack. “It might be my dream-guy Viking Harley hunk, here to make me come over and over.”
Liquid heat pooled in the junction of her thighs at the fantastical notion. Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.
Her nipples beaded again. Her breasts grew heavy.
She hurried through her apartment, wrapping her towel around her with snug pressure and tucking its end into the chasm of her cleavage.
If it was Derek, the guy might be in for the surprise of his life.
Poor bastard.
Reaching the door, Jilly checked the towel was wrapped around her securely, drew a deep breath, shut out as best she could the aching sexual hunger consuming her, and then opened the door.
“Fire Mate,” her Harley hunk murmured, staring at her from the other side of the threshold.
Holy fuck.
The exclamation whispered through her head, full of stunned shock and confusing excitement, a heartbeat before he destroyed the small space between them, buried his fingers in her hair and crushed her lips with his.
He swept his tongue into her mouth, savage and possessive and completely as if it had every right to be there.
For a wicked, intoxicating, insane moment, Jilly surrendered to the sheer rightness of the kiss, the absolute perfection of it. A tsunami of raw pleasure flooded through her, bringing with it an exquisite heat beyond her experience. Her head swam. Her body quaked with urgent need. Light and shadow swirled behind her eyelids, flames of red and blue that reached for an endless blackness. What sounded like a hundred mellifluous voices sang in her head, a chanting intonation that echoed the pounding of her heart.
And then the reality of the situation smashed into her, and she tore herself free of the stranger’s arms. She staggered backward out of his grip, her stare locked on his face, her breath all but shallow pants.
“What the fuck?” she burst out, dragging the back of her hand over her lips. “What do you think you’re doing? Who the fuck are you?”
The man followed her into her apartment, his strides purposeful, his nostrils flaring. Dark blue eyes burned with an unreadable light. “You’re not a dragon.”
The statement made Jilly blink. “I’m not a what?”
He closed the door behind him without breaking their stare.
She jumped at the solid thud, and then bit back a whimper as another wave of sexual hunger swept over her.
“Dragon,” he repeated, slowly walking toward her even as she stumbled away from him. “You’re not a dragon shifter. I can feel that, now I’m this close. But there’s no denying you are my Fire Mate, so that’s a bit confusing. Any chance you know what’s going on?”
Gaping up at him—wow, he was tall. And gorgeous. And scary. And sexy as sin—Jilly tripped over her heel, failed to regain her balance and promptly fell on her arse.
He scooped her up from the floor before her brain processed what the hell was going on.
His hard chest molded to her body.
Muscles. His muscles are so hard. So hard. Holy fuck, he is so hot! So hot and hard and strong and—
“You know what?” he said, his voice husky and deep, his gaze roaming her face as a playful smile curled his lips. “We’ll get to the bottom of this mystery later. It doesn’t matter at the moment. Right now, I need to kiss you more than I need to draw breath.”
“Oh God, yes…” she burst out, incapable of denying the raw, surreal hunger consuming her. “Kiss me. Kiss—”
He captured her lips with his. Once again, Jilly couldn’t fight the power of the kiss.
Fire razed her flesh, a million pinpricks of delicious heat. Her heart smashed against her breastbone. The chanting rose in her head again for that one second, as powerful as his kiss, as right and familiar as her own voice. Sang in her head…
In her head. Chanting in her head. What the hell?
Jilly shoved at his shoulders. Hard. Hard enough to dislodge herself from his arms.
She tumbled to the floor again, hitting it hip and elbow first. Pain sheared through her, but that didn’t stop her scrambling to her feet. She snatched at the edges of the towel before it could abandon her, glaring up at him. “What the hell is going on?”
He frowned.
Being this close to him for the first time, she could see the mesmerizing colors in his eyes. They were the most incredible sea blue, with chips of green flecking through them. She could dr
own in those eyes. If he hadn’t appeared at her door going on about dragons and kissing her senseless, that was.
Wait. Isn’t this your fantasy? Without the weird dragon bit, of course? And you’re complaining why, exactly?
Straightening her spine, she sucked in a slow breath. She needed to shut down the carnal desire to mount him and ride him like a…like a…
Dragon?
“Is this some kind of messed-up promo thing for that dragon show?” she asked, fixing him with another glare. “’Cause I gotta tell you, I don’t even know the title of the show, so if that’s what it is, it’s not working.” She shook her head, wriggling in her towel a little. “And it’s weird.”
Her Harley hunk studied her. That strange light burned in his eyes again. Another small smile played with his lips. How freaking unfair was it that an insane person could have such an infectious, sexy smile?
You have no idea what I’m talking about when I say dragon shifter, do you?”
An icy ripple tickled up Jilly’s spine, and her nipples hardened. She shook her head, her breaths shallow. “No.”
Dragon shifter. Why did the sound of those two words uttered together make her feel…odd?
Good odd. Pleasurable odd.
Aroused odd.
Damn it.
“Is the show about people who change into dragons?” she asked, inching back a step when he took one toward her. “Like that guy who could change into a wolf in that old TV show about vampires?”
His infectious smile stretched into a drop-dead gorgeous grin and he threw back his head and laughed, filling her apartment with the sound of unadulterated delight.
A base hunger she had no control over detonated in Jilly. A soft, whimpering moan fell from her lips. Her belly clenched. Her sex did the same.
His mesmerizing blue eyes returned to her, but this time she couldn’t mistake the emotion burning in their depths. Raw lust. Open desire.
“I don’t know how this is remotely possible,” he said, resuming his slow walk toward her, amusement curling his lips. “But I like it.”
Jilly swallowed. “Like what?” she croaked. When had she stopped walking backward? Surely she should be attacking him? Or screaming? And what the hell was the chanting she kept hearing in her head every time he kissed her? What was going on? What—
Dragon, Interrupted (Fire Mates Book 5) Page 2
