by Tessa Adams
Before she could think twice about manners and the inappropriateness of touching anything that belonged to him, she grabbed it. Unzipped it and spread it out on the ground. Then pulled one side over her and prepared to wait for him to return, no matter how long it took.
Logan landed a couple of miles away from the clearing where he’d been sleeping, just in case he’d been followed from the Wyvernmoon compound. He didn’t think he had been—he’d done numerous scans while he was there and on the way back to ensure that he had gone undetected. But he’d learned many, many moons ago that it was better to be safe than sorry.
He shifted as soon as his feet hit the forest ground, then began the trek back to his campsite. He’d left his pack at the campsite without bothering to get dressed. It wasn’t like there was anyone out there to see him, and he was too tired, hungry and completely out of sorts to worry about clothes. His conversation with Shawn had put him in a lousy mood, one he figured was going to linger for quite a while. Damn it.
The worst part was, he knew Shawn was right. He was letting himself get too interested in the dealings here, letting himself think far too much about Cecily. If he wanted to do the job he’d come to do, then he needed to remain unemotional. Uncaring. Blank when it came to things like the clan children—or its princess.
He also needed to stop dwelling on the future. He’d set his course, had decided on his goals, and he wasn’t going to let anything shake those up. Not his weird attraction to Cecily Fournier, and not his desire to return to the Dragonstars someday.
He sighed at the thought, started to run a hand through his hair before—once again—remembering that he had cut it all off. Fuck. When was he going to adjust to this new role he had decided to play? When was he going to remember that the Logan Kelly, who had lived with the Dragonstars for the past hundred years, was going to cease to exist after he did what he’d come here to do? There was no way Dylan was going to let him back into the clan after he’d so blatantly defied orders, and there was no way he’d be able to look the other sentries in the eye, anyway.
Oh, Shawn understood where he was coming from, but, then, Shawn was different. He had a past even darker than Logan’s, and he understood that sometimes it wasn’t enough to just send a message to your enemy. Sometimes you had to crush them so completely that it never again occurred to them to come after you.
Lost in thought, he was only a few hundred yards from camp when he felt the intruder. Freezing where he was, he did a quick scan of the surrounding area, trying to figure out where the other dragon was lying in wait for him.
He didn’t feel anything threatening coming from the surrounding trees or any of the other areas he had scouted when he first decided to set up camp here. Didn’t feel any malice directed at him at all.
Which was strange, as he knew someone was up here with him. He could sense the other dragon on a psychic level, could feel him or her on a physical level. Worse, everything inside him shouted that the intruder was Wyvernmoon.
For the second time that night, he unsheathed the dagger he always kept strapped to his thigh; then he took a few more cautious steps toward the clearing where he’d been sleeping. The presence of the other dragon grew stronger, though he still wasn’t picking up on any desire to kill him.
Suspicious, annoyed, determined not to be caught unawares, he took a long, slow sniff of the air. As he did, every muscle in his body stiffened.
It was her. Cecily. She had come back to him. She’d promised him that she would, but after what had passed between them the night before, he wasn’t sure that she’d have the nerve to follow through on her promise. But here she was at his camp. He would recognize the sweet, caramel scent of her anywhere.
His dragon burst back to the surface at the thought, its scales rippling along his skin as it fought to get out. Fought to get to Cecily and her own beast. He was a little surprised at the thing’s reaction, if he was honest. Tired from the long flight, it had curled up inside him and started to snooze the second he shifted back to human form. But one sniff of Cecily, and it was suddenly wide awake and raring to go.
Much like me, he acknowledged ruefully, his dick so hard that he was going to have trouble walking if he didn’t get into that clearing soon. It was a good thing he’d sped up the second he realized it was her. He needed to see her, to touch her.
His beast roared its approval, and Logan nearly stumbled over his own feet in his haste to cover the last few yards between him and the clearing. Though it took only seconds, it seemed to take forever as his head filled with all the things he wanted to do with her. To her.
He wanted to run to her, to rush to her, to grab her and bend her over the closest rock and fuck her from behind like the animal he was.
He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and caress every part of her, to kiss and lick and nibble at her until she melted for him with a soft sigh of surrender.
He wanted to stretch out on the ground with her on top of him, to cup her full, beautiful breasts in his hands and toy with her nipples as she rode him hard.
He wanted her so badly that his hands were already shaking. It felt strange—he’d never been this aroused before with so little provocation. But, then, Cecily’s existence, her proximity, the passionate nature he had discovered in her the night before, were provocation in their own way.
He had enough brain power left, barely, to force himself to stop at the last tree before the clearing. This could be a trap, after all. She is the enemy, he reminded himself, no matter how much he wanted to fuck her. She could slide a knife right between his ribs and smile at him while she was doing it.
He didn’t think she would, but he’d been wrong before about his enemies and his women. He couldn’t afford to make that same mistake with Cecily. Not now, when he was finally so close to getting the in to the Wyvernmoons that he’d been scheming and waiting for.
He scanned one more time and came up with nothing. Dropped all but the innermost layers of his mental shields and still came away empty-handed. She wasn’t really thinking about anything, was just lying there in his sleeping bag, in a dreamy, half-awake state that he longed to be a part of.
Finally, as certain as he could be that she wasn’t there for any reason beyond the obvious, he stepped into the clearing. Both man and dragon preened at the sight of her there, waiting for him on the closest thing to a bed that he currently had.
He walked over to her slowly, making no effort to disguise his approach. He didn’t want to startle her, after all. Not now, when he was so close to his goal. But Cecily didn’t move, even when he stood over her, and a little spurt of alarm worked its way through him. Had his scan been wrong? Was she hurt somehow?
“Cecily.” He called her name as he crouched over her, reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. The skin was warm, supple, and his beast—coiled to attack at the threat of her being hurt—relaxed at the feel of her.
Her eyes opened slowly, dreamily, and she looked so inviting lying there, her long blond hair spread around her like a halo, that it took all his willpower not to jump on her and take her like the starving man he suddenly was.
“Logan.” Her smile was soft and sweet, as was the hand she reached up to brush against his chest. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” he agreed, his voice hoarse. “And so are you.”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I can see that.”
She flushed a little, her skin turning that same milky pink it had the day before. It made him want to lap her up one slow lick at a time. His dragon roared its approval, and, unable to resist, he leaned down and nuzzled the silky skin beneath her ear as he pushed the unzipped sleeping bag out of the way.
Her breath caught and her hands came up to clutch at his head, to hold him in place. Logan grinned at the thought, more than happy to stay exactly where he was for, say, the next century or so. He nuzzled her again, then swirled his tongue behind her ear.
She gasped, arched, and her hands trembled in
his hair. His arousal shot through the stratosphere at the obvious signs of her arousal. She was incredibly responsive, even more so than she’d been the night before, when he’d used his mind to bring her to orgasm, and he was dying to get inside her. To see how she reacted when he was actually making love to her.
At the same time, though, he wanted to take things slowly, to explore every part of her that he could. To find every sweet spot on her body and make her as crazy for him as he was for her.
He pulled away reluctantly, gratified by her small whimper and the way her hands tried to hold on to him. “It’s okay, A stor. I’m not going anywhere.”
He shifted, lowered himself to the ground beside her, then stretched out on his side so that he was facing her, their bodies only inches apart. She smiled at him, a tremulous curving of her lips that worked its way inside him and melted his heart just a little, when he would have sworn such a thing was impossible.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come back,” he said, then immediately regretted the impulse. What was wrong with him? He was supposed to be exploiting her vulnerabilities, not showing her his own.
But she didn’t move to take instant advantage of his admission, didn’t do anything but reach out and stroke a hand over the roughness of his chin. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and suddenly he wished that he had. He didn’t want to scrape her sensitive skin with his stubble.
“I couldn’t stay away,” she answered, rubbing her knuckles against his unscarred cheek.
“I could shave,” he offered. “If it’s bothering you—”
“Are you kidding? I love the way it feels. I want to feel it against—” She broke off, her eyes shifting away shyly, and his temperature skyrocketed.
“Where?” he demanded, grabbing her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting her head until she was once again looking him in the eye. “Where do you want to feel it?”
She shook her head, her little white teeth biting down on her lower lip in embarrassment or nervousness or some other emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“Cecily,” he asked again, and this time even he could hear the dragon in the deep gravel of his voice. “Tell me.”
“I can’t.” Her voice broke. “Don’t make me say it.”
He swore at the vulnerability in her eyes, at the shyness that was so shocking in another shifter. He must have spent too much of his time in recent years around dominant, confident females. He’d forgotten what it was like to be with a woman who wasn’t clawing his back as she told him exactly what she wanted from him.
Before Cecily, he would have sworn that was exactly what he liked in a woman, but there was something about her reticence that turned him on harder and faster than any woman ever had before.
“I’m sorry, A stor.” He brushed a soothing kiss over her forehead. “I didn’t mean to push so hard.”
She shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who—”
He stopped her with a kiss. And though he wanted to devour her, to thrust his tongue into the honeyed recesses of her mouth and take everything she had, he kept it soft, sweet, and, he hoped, a little comforting. She deserved that much after the way he’d come at her the day before down by the lake—and, later, in her thoughts.
He’d been a selfish asshole with her, he realized, as he soothed her nerves away with tender kisses to her cheeks, her forehead, the corner of her mouth. He’d been so caught up in his own needs and desires that he’d forgotten what the instant attraction between them must be like for her.
She was young, less than an eighth of his age, so she had to be relatively inexperienced sexually—at least compared to him. Which meant that for her to give her body to him—a man she didn’t know very well and who wasn’t of her clan—was probably already stretching her comfort zone. He needed to take it easy with her.
But it was hard to remember that and even harder to do it when her body arched against his and he could feel the heat rolling off her in waves that called to him and to the beast inside him. Her breasts pushed against his chest, and he could feel her hard little nipples digging into his muscles there. It was making him crazy with the need to be inside her.
Her needs aren’t the same as mine, he reminded himself viciously. At least not yet. He needed to pet her and tease her and take it slow if he had any hope of raising her desire to the fever pitch his was already at. Reining in his need—and the dragon that was prowling just beneath his skin, watching, waiting for its chance to get to her—Logan took a deep breath. Then reached for her, praying his control was as good as he thought it was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Trough she knew it was silly to be so nervous, Cecily trembled at the dark intensity in Logan’s gaze. He’d been nothing but gentle with her, nothing but tender and sweet and respectful, and still she was shaking so much she was afraid she’d come apart in his arms. Which was stupid, because she wanted this. Badly.
She was the one who had come to him, after all.
The one who had sought him out.
The one who had climbed into his sleeping bag wearing absolutely nothing.
So why, when he was giving her exactly what she knew she wanted, was she suddenly so close to losing her nerve?
He reached for her and she braced herself, expecting him to grope her like all the men who’d come before him. She hadn’t had many dates in her life, and most of those had been spectacularly unimpressive. So unimpressive that she hadn’t even let the men kiss her good night. But there had been a few she had liked enough to kiss and let them touch her. Every single one of them had gone straight for her breasts, squeezing and pinching until she’d felt bruised with their attentions.
Though Logan hadn’t tried to touch her breasts yesterday—at least not anywhere but in her fantasies—she still couldn’t help tensing. She wanted to skip this part, to go straight to the sex. Somehow she knew he would make that part of it good for her.
Determined to curb her impatience and her fear, Cecily braced herself for the foreplay she figured Logan would insist on. But when he touched her, it wasn’t with the firm grip she’d been dreading. Wasn’t even with his whole hand. Instead, it was one lone finger. His index finger.
He started in the center of her forehead, with a touch so light she could barely feel it. Then skimmed, slow and straight, over her nose to her lips. He paused there for a moment, ran the tip of his finger back and forth across her lower lip until she started to tremble with something other than nerves.
Unsure of herself but unable to stop, she darted her tongue out and licked his finger. He groaned then, his eyes darkening to a deep maroon that was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. His breathing quickened, and she was sure that he would start to rush, but he didn’t. Instead, he slicked his finger across her lips a few more times before trailing it across her cheek to her ear.
Tenderly, slowly, he traced the outer shell. She shivered at the unfamiliar feeling and the delicate sparks his touch sent shooting through her body. He grinned and spent at least a minute toying with her ear and the slender gold loop that dangled from her lobe.
From there, he looped and swirled his way down, pausing at the hollow of her neck to feel the crazy pounding of her heart. She reached for him, circled his waist with her arm and snuggled a little closer to the enticing heat of him.
He did move then, sliding his arm under her head so that his thick, hard bicep made a pillow for her. He curved his body so that he was touching her from her neck to her toes, then slid one heavy leg between hers so that her upper leg curled over his hip.
She gasped at the intimacy of the position, at the way his huge erection was nestled against her sex. They were both naked, and she knew if he wanted to, Logan could slip inside her with one quick thrust of his hips.
But he didn’t. Once he had her positioned where he wanted her, he didn’t move at all. Didn’t try to touch more of her. Didn’t do anything but look at her. Her whole body was shaking now, more from arousal than
fear, and she closed her eyes, hoping she could calm down a little if she wasn’t looking at him.
“Look at me.” His voice was hoarse, the words hard-bitten and raw.
Her lashes fluttered and then she was staring directly into those mystical eyes that seemed to see every part of her. “Don’t close your eyes again,” he said. “I need to see, need to know that I’m pleasing you. That I’m not frightening you.”
“You aren’t.” She grabbed his hand, tried to put it on her breast, her earlier misgivings forgotten in her need to make him happy. “I’m ready for you.”
Logan laughed, and she felt the vibrations all the way through her body. His cock jerked against her and she gasped, her body straining against his in an effort to get even closer. “A stor, I can feel you.” He flexed his hips a little so she knew what he was talking about. “You’re nowhere near ready.”
She blushed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m enjoying like hell getting you ready.”
And then that diabolical finger of his was back, drifting from her collarbone to the curve of her shoulder.
Down her arm to her elbow, her forearm, her wrist.
Over her hand to her hip, her outer thigh, the back of her knee.
He paused, took a minute to gently toy with the tendons there. Pleasure shot through her, powerful, intense, overwhelming, and she convulsed, her leg tightening on his hip.
“You like that, hmmm?” He repeated the movements, and she was so caught up in the amazing feelings winding their way through her that she couldn’t answer.
Her lack of response didn’t seem to bother him, though, at least not based on the way his cock twitched against her. She moaned at the sensation, felt herself grow damp at the obvious sign of his desire for her. And nearly sighed in relief.
Surely, he would notice her wetness now.
Surely, he would decide she was ready.
