Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(83)

Zane removed her from his shoulders, set her down in front of him, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest.

“I just meant…” she muttered, feeling awkward.

“I know what you meant, dragyra.” He tightened his hold around her, pressing his chest against her back and nuzzling her ear with affection. “It’s okay to be enraptured, angel.” He nipped the back of her earlobe with his teeth, then kissed the delicate flesh behind it. “And it’s okay to like what is happening…between us.”

She shivered, still staring at the water.

He placed both hands on her shoulders and massaged them as they both continued to watch the supernatural show, and then he slid his fingers into her hair, at the nape of her neck, and lifted it away from her shoulders. He bent his head and kissed her, right at the top of her spine—right below the edge of her hairline—and her knees grew unstable and weak.

She drew in a sharp breath of air and wriggled nervously.

He pulled back, splayed his fingers, and then placed them on her chest, just above her breasts, before sliding his hand upward to her throat, where he grasped it softly, then kneaded the taut, tense muscles.

She shuddered. “Zane, I can’t.” The words were a soft, plaintive whisper.

“Can’t what, dragyra?” he rasped, kissing her again in the exact same spot before trailing his lips down to her ear…down her neck…and along the curve of her shoulder. His hand slid lower, to her stomach, and rested on her lower belly.

She felt dizzy, light-headed, and faint. “I can’t…I can’t…feel this,” she breathed heavily.

“I see,” Zane whispered. He placed the fingertips of both hands on her shoulders, raked his fingernails along her skin—so gently that he gave her goose bumps—and then he slid both shoulder straps, the strings of her summer dress, slowly, down her arms.

“Zane!” she protested, even as her neck arched and her head lulled backward. Holy hell, her chest was rising and falling from labored breathing—and anticipation.

She needed to stop this before it went too far.

And now.

Zane planted a sensual, seductive kiss right where her neck met her shoulder, and Jordan knew she was done for. Her teeth chattered from the trepidation, but her body came alive.

Apparently sensing both desires warring within her, Zane, being the predator he was, went in for the kill. He slid both hands along the curve of her bare shoulders, down her arms, and onto her waist—and then he slid them up to her breasts, felt the weight beneath them, and cupped them in the palms of his hands. He let out a deep, erotic, almost feral groan, and Jordan’s shudder became a tremor.

Then just like that he scooped her up into his arms, laid her down in the sand, and blanketed her body with his.

She gulped, staring up at him like a startled child.

He studied her expression like a majestic hawk. “Do you fear me, dragyra?”

She bit her bottom lip, even as she arched beneath him. “A little…yes.” She could barely speak.

He nodded. “I want you, Jordan, and you want me, too.” He let his gaze sweep over her, appreciating her feminine curves from head to toe, ever so slowly, before meeting her eyes again. His sapphire-golden orbs were practically glowing with intensity: deepening, darkening, brimming with sensuality. His dragon purred, and Jordan shifted nervously beneath him.

And then he kissed her.

Softly at first: a slow, tender meeting of their lips.

But then, more firmly, exploring the contours of her mouth: first, her upper lip—he tasted it, savored it…relished it. Then, her lower lip—he bit it softly and swirled his tongue along the delicate silhouette. And finally, the corners of her mouth—he explored each side in turn, lingering…discovering.

Enjoying.

And then the kiss became ardent, seeking—enticing—as he skillfully teased her senseless with his tongue.

Good lord, the man was like molten lava, encasing her body in heat. He was passion, fire, and animal hunger, all wrapped up in one. Whether it was fear, or release—or arousal, restrained—Jordan would never know. She only knew that two unwitting tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Zane was so completely in tune to her responses. “It’s okay, angel,” he whispered, kissing the first tear away. “I’ve got you, baby, and I won’t let you fall—trust me, trust this, trust your body.” He tasted the second tear on his tongue, and then he did something so unexpected, it captured—and awakened—her heart. He pulled back, braced his powerful body on his elbows, and simply stared into her eyes: He studied every feature on her face, every soft angle and curve, every detail, indentation, and plane. And he sighed with appreciation. “By all the gods, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I want to love you, Jordan: I want to please you, consume you, taste your soul.” He lowered his mouth to her neck, and she felt the subtle scrape of fangs along the length of her jugular. And heaven help her, because the single flame that burned between them, the one he had always described, ignited in an instant, and her body flooded with need.

She wanted Zane to bite her.

And he did.

His fangs sank deep, and the momentary shock—the temporary sensation of pain—was quickly chased away with a swirl of his tongue. He made a seal above the puncture and began to draw her heat—and probably her blood—and she felt her skin grow cooler…