What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(75)

He let out a hard breath, his gaze locked onto her body. Her hands and arms blocked much of it, but still …

“Gods, woman, what have you been hiding?”

Dagmar looked around and down at herself. “Nothing, I don’t think. I mean, I told what I knew to Morfyd and Annwyl—”

Gwenvael shook his head. “Not that. This.” He walked toward her and she quickly stepped back. “We really must find you clothes that do you justice.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t move,” he snapped, and Dagmar immediately stopped moving away from him.

Gwenvael walked slowly around her, his gaze feasting on her.

“What, in the name of reason, are you doing?”

Behind her, Gwenvael slowly went to his knees. “Enjoying myself.”

When Dagmar felt something brush against her ass, her entire body jolted. “Did you just—” She cleared her throat. “Did you just kiss my … uh … backside?”

Gwenvael didn’t respond, but when she felt a warm tongue lazily wind its way up to her hip, she jumped away.

“What are you doing?” she asked again, quickly facing him.

“If you turn back around”—he purred—“you’ll eventually find out.”

“I can’t … We can’t … I know we’ve danced around it, but … uh …”

She took a step back when Gwenvael stood. “It’s all right.”

Dagmar realized she was panting, as if she were running down that main road toward Spikenhammer again.

“I didn’t mean to panic. I just … I’m not used to …”

“Sssh.” He walked toward her and she took another step back.

“Stop moving,” he ordered.

And she did.

Gwenvael put her robe over her shoulders, took one arm and put it through the sleeve and did the same with the other. He closed the robe tightly and belted it.

“Feel better?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Yes.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

She swallowed. “No.”

Gripping her hand, he walked her over to the bed and knelt on top of it, tugging at her until she joined him.

Kneeling across from each other, he said, “You know, Dagmar, not everything has to be so serious. Every moment involving a life or death issue that needs to be analyzed and sussed out.”

She winced. “I try not to be stuffy.”

“And you’re not, thankfully. But the games played that involve whole kingdoms don’t need to be played here. Here it’s just us—and we can do whatever we want.”

It dawned on Dagmar that he was right. She wasn’t at her father’s fortress, one of her brothers liable to walk in unannounced at any time. Nor did she have to worry about her sisters-in-law listening at the door or bribing the servants for information. She was thousands of miles from her kinsmen and in a place that knew nothing of her.

Dagmar felt a delicious, wicked thrill lash through her and carefully stated, “I don’t have your freedom, my lord. I have my … honor to think of. To protect.”

“Your honor?” Confused, Gwenvael stared at her for a long moment, and then his expression cleared and slowly, carefully, he began to play the game with her. “Ahh, yes. Your precious honor. There will be no protecting that tonight. Not with me.”

Gwenvael lowered his head, his mouth heading toward hers. Dagmar turned her face away, her hands firmly pressed against his chest, trying to push him back even while her hands begged to explore.

But he wouldn’t let her turn away, grabbing a handful of her hair and forcing her head back until she had to look at him, his mouth again lowering toward hers.

His tongue slid inside, taking full ownership as it stroked and teased her and Dagmar whimpered desperately, her fingers digging into his shirt-covered chest. There was no rush to this kiss, no desperate invasion. He simply took what he wanted in his own time—and she let him.

So lost in his kiss, she didn’t know he’d opened her robe again until he palmed her breast. Startled by the contact, Dagmar instinctively tried to pull back, but his grip on her hair kept her firmly in place. Unable to escape.

In this moment, on this bed, the dragon had complete control of her. And the violence of the shudder that went through her told its own tale. She needed this moment, this break from responsibilities. A longed-for break that had nothing to do with getting what she wanted or protecting those she cared for, and everything to do with her pleasure.

His lips nibbled their way down her chin to her neck and kept going. His warm mouth closed over her nipple and began to suck as a finger slid inside her.

Dagmar’s hips jerked, attempting to move away from the finger so easily sliding in and out of her. But the fingers still gripping her hair tugged hard, and he gave a low warning growl.

Without a word, he made it clear he wouldn’t let her go until he was done, and she rewarded him with fresh wetness between her legs that allowed him to add a second finger to the first.

She winced a bit, sucking air between her teeth, remembering that her few relations had been extremely short, years apart, and mostly unpleasant.

Her whimper this time had nothing to do with unpleasantness, however. She couldn’t explain the difference, but it was there. His gentleness, his control without ever being vicious. It had her melting into him, giving herself over as she’d never done before. His mouth moved to her other breast, sucking until the nipple was hard and begging.