Chloe Cole(15)

Her head hummed as he took a step forward and then another, until he’d crowded her back against the wall. Then, he took one wrist in each hand and lifted them over her head, pinning her in place, straightening to take her mouth again in a wild crush of teeth and tongues, as brutal and unforgiving as the stone wall at her back.

And she loved it.

The honesty. The hunger. Her wolf fairly howled with the rightness of it. He slid one hand lower to cup her ass as he closed his teeth down on her bottom lip hard enough to make her gasp before laving the spot with his tongue.

Mindlessly now, she bit back, so hard she tasted blood, sweet, hot and rich on her tongue. She drew back, stunned into a stupor at her own aggression.

“Drake, I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s fine.” His face was so tense, his jaw could’ve cut glass, and his eyes were hot and fevered. And then suddenly, she was alone. Standing with her back pressed against the wall, breath sawing in and out of her lungs, heart pounding hard enough to hear it in the next room.

She shook her head to clear it as Drake crossed the room to stand by his side of the bed again. She blinked at him owlishly, trying to put together what had happened.

“You got your kiss, little wolf. Has your curiosity been satisfied?” he asked softly as he stroked his thumb over his bottom lip to wipe away the droplet of blood beading there.

Satisfied? Not even close. In fact, she’d never felt so dissatisfied in her life. Her whole body pulsed with unrequited need. As for Drake, she could still see the outline of his cock jutting out from between his hips but his voice was calm and measured, and his face was devoid of expression at all.

Was he truly so unaffected? Or had she turned him off with her uninhibited reactions?

“Drake, I-”

“Look, we’ve been drinking, and we both need to get some rest. It’s been a long few days.”

She was still standing there watching him as he donned the t-shirt he’d discarded during their embrace and then climbed into the bed.

“Goodnight, little wolf,” he murmured.

And then? He rolled to his side and promptly started to snore.



* * *



The next few days were an exercise in avoidance.

While Drake worked in his study conducting dragon-y business, she spent her mornings exploring the keep and her afternoons in the library trying to keep her mind occupied with anything besides Drake’s kiss. The history of shifters--and dragons in particular--was so interesting, that at points, she actually managed to let herself get lost in the past, swept away by the tales in the ancient leather tomes that filled the room.

Then dinnertime would roll around and she had no choice but to come back to reality and face Drake, along with the fact that she’d tried to molest him.

Again.

But if dinners went by slow, the nights moved at a crawl. Once they got under the sheets, even pathetic attempts at conversation seemed to cease, and the only sound breaking the thick silence between them was the second-hand on the grandfather clock as it tick, tick, ticked.

It was agonizing. Waiting. Remembering the way his hands felt on her skin. Wondering if he was going to touch her. Wishing he would, without her having to be the one to break and reveal how very much she wanted him.

Again.

“How was your afternoon?” Drake asked, as he joined her at the dinner table, derailing her chaotic thoughts.

She swallowed hard and met his gaze. As usual, something shifted inside her and went to mush as she stared at him.

Lord, he was handsome. All dark hair and piercing eyes. So often she found herself staring at him, unable to look away. And it seemed the same for him. She’d caught him watching her a dozen times, his heated gaze following the movement of her lips as she spoke, or trailing over the line of her breasts as she bent to retrieve something.

He wanted her, still.

So what was the deal, and why had he been treating her like a visiting nun since they’d kissed? They’d been sleeping in the same bed and had woken up more than once entwined with one another. And every single time, he’d disengaged, polite as could be, all but patting her on the head before leaving the bed altogether and going to take his morning shower.

Maybe it was time to risk some middle-of-the-night recon and see if she could find his car keys so she could get out of there before she did something truly stupid, like start begging him.

She forked up a piece of the pot roast she’d made and popped it into her mouth, chewing the meat that had looked delicious before her wayward thoughts but now seemed tasteless.

“It was a good reading day, actually. I’m right in the middle of the Holy Wars. Dragon King Gerhardt is debating whether or not to just eradicate the human race and be done with it.” She took a long pull from her wine glass and forced a chuckle. “He’s a bloodthirsty one.”