Page 80 of Escape from the Green

My head tilted slightly, begging for more of the sensation.

My heart was fluttering around in my chest, seemingly free of the binds that would normally tie it.

"I'm already sweet on you," I admitted in a whisper.

"Yeah?" he asked, voice tentative, afraid, maybe, to be hopeful.

My head nodded. "I know it was only days for you, but it was months for me. And there wasn't a single night that I didn't dream about you, wake up in the morning disappointed that it wasn't real."

Whatever control he normally had on himself evaporated in an instant, his hand sliding from my cheek to cup my jaw, the other hand raising to do the same on the other side, his strange eyes searching mine, the red somehow brighter than ever before.

And then his lips sealed over mine.

Soft, sweet, tentative at first.

Until my body melted into his.

Until my lips parted on a whimper.

My body slammed back into a tree, knocking my air out of me for a moment as his lips grew harder, hungrier.

Drake's hands left my face, sliding down my arms, my ribs, my hips, then slipping backward, gliding down, sinking in.

His fingers bruised into the flesh of my ass as he pulled, gently urged me up to my tiptoes, then off my feet completely, leaving me dangling for a short moment before he yanked me up, coaxing my legs to fold around his back, opening me up to him, letting his hardness press against the aching need at my core.

His teeth snagged my lower lip, pulling to the point of pain as he pressed me harder against the tree, as his hands used my ass to drag my body up, then grind it back down against him, making a shudder course through me at the perfect friction.

The moan escaped me, loud, unmuffled, echoing out into the silence around us.

A low, rumbling growl escaped Drake even as his lips ripped from mine, lowering, seeking the sensitive skin down the side of my neck, kissing, licking, sucking, nipping over the flesh as the need became a wildfire in my system, burning, blistering, blinding me to anything else as my legs gave me leverage, allowing me to lift up, then grind back down, his cock pressing right where I needed it most, sparking a flame through my body, a hint of something to come, something overwhelming, an explosion of sorts.

His lips had just sealed over mine again, his tongue dancing with mine until my body lifted and ground down again, needing more, when I heard it.

A cough.

A clearing of a throat.

An announcement of our not-alone-ness.

I jerked back so fast that I forgot where I was, head slamming back into the tree, sending stars across my eyes for a second even as Drake's upper body pulled away as well, half-turning toward the sound of the intrusion.

"Rooms. Rooms are good for that sort of thing," a male voice I decided immediately I didn't recognize - because it was low, deep, growling, and utterly rememberable - said. "Unless, of course, you want to put on a show," the voice went on as my vision finally cleared, allowing me to sneak a look at the man from under my lashes - too embarrassed for full eye-contact. "In which case, carry on," he invited, crossing his arms, leaning back against a tree, and shooting us a wicked look.

He was good looking.

I had learned that my ideas of gorgeous dragon-men had been girlish and silly - somehow expecting them all to be beautifully crafted specimens of perfection. Like Drake.

Sure, most of the Draca were all fit, broader than most fae, stronger, corded with muscles - even many of the women, their arms looking like they could endlessly chop wood without so much as getting a muscle spasm. But that didn't mean they were all attractive.

Like any society, there were a few specimens of near-perfection. Again, Drake. Or, at least, I thought so. Then there were also a few truly unfortunate looking people. Then there was a whole lot of in-between people. Not unattractive, but not beautiful.

But this man fell into the privileged few category.

He was stunning to take in with his wide, strong build, his firm jaw, his severe brow ridge, his masculine, but not overstated nose, his full, but not feminine mouth, his dark, inky hair kept long - like, it seemed, most did - but pulled back. I couldn't make out his eyes from a distance, something that had somehow managed to send off a twinge of disappointment even through my embarrassment. I had come to have a sort of fascination with their eyes, the way each seemed to have brown with unique starbursts within. Except for Kieran who had blue with silver, a combination that was almost unsettlingly lovely to see.

So I wanted to see his eyes, even as I really wanted him to stop looking at me, at us in that amused, but penetrative way he was currently doing.

"Tsar," Drake grumbled. "Keep moving," he demanded, voice a mix of needy still, amused, and resigned.