Another shudder worked through her, because she knew he would do everything in his power to see that Jason got exactly what he deserved.
And she planned to help him.
Grace wanted to bang her head against the wall.
She and Darius arrived home several hours ago, yet he still remained rigid with tension. He refused to speak. She hated this, hated the remorse radiating from him.
He sat on the couch, his head back, his eyes closed. Not knowing what else to do, she quietly approached. "I want to show you something."
His eyelids reluctantly opened. When he offered no reply and made no move to rise, she added, "Pretty please with a cherry on top."
Not a single word left his lips, but he stood. Grace wrapped her fingers around his and ushered him into the bathroom. She didn't explain her actions; she simply removed his clothing, then her own. He was in need of loving-and she was going to give it to him. All the loving he could stand.
After turning the knobs and allowing the water to heat, she stepped inside the tub and tugged Darius in behind her. Still he remained silent. Hot water cascaded down their naked bodies, and as she stood in front of him, she lathered his chest with soap.
"I've got a joke for you," she said, mentally converting jokes she knew into dragon jokes.
He frowned-his first reaction. It didn't matter that he'd only given her a frown. She'd take anything she could get.
"What did the dragon say when he saw a knight in shining armor?"
His brow wrinkled, and he sighed.
"Oh, no, not another canned meal."
Slowly, so slowly, his lips inched up in a smile.
I did that , she thought with a surge of pride. I made him smile . She basked in the warmth of it and all the while his smile continued to grow. So sweet, so endearing, it lit his entire face. His eyes darkened, becoming that golden-brown she loved. He traced his fingertip over her cheekbone.
"Tell me another one," he said.
She nearly sank to her knees in relief at the sound of his rich, husky voice. Grinning happily, she slipped behind him and traced her soapy hands over his back. "It's long," she warned.
"Even better," he said, tugging her in front. He nibbled on her ear, dragging the sensitive lobe through his teeth.
"There was a dragon who had a long-standing obsession with a queen's breasts," she said, growing breathless. "The dragon knew the penalty to touch her would mean death, yet he revealed his secret desire to the king's chief doctor. This man promised he could arrange for the dragon to satisfy his desire, but it would cost him one thousand gold coins." She spread her soapy hands over his nipples, then down his arms. "Though he didn't have the money, the dragon readily agreed to the scheme."
"Grace," Darius moaned, his erection straining against her stomach.
She hid her smile, loving that she had this much power over such a strong man. That she, Grace Carlyle, made him ache with longing. "The next day the physician made a batch of itching powder and poured some into the queen's bra… uh, you might call it a brassiere… while she bathed. After she dressed, she began itching and itching and itching. The physician was summoned to the Royal Chambers, and he informed the king and queen that only a special saliva, if applied for several hours, would cure this type of itch. And only a dragon possessed this special saliva." Out of breath, she paused.
"Continue," Darius said. His arms wound around her so tightly she could barely breathe. His skin blazed hot against hers, hotter than even the steamy water.
"Are you sure?"
"Continue." Taut lines bracketed his mouth.
"Well, the king summoned the dragon. Meanwhile, the physician slipped him the antidote for the itching powder, which the dragon put into his mouth, and for the next few hours, the dragon worked passionately on the queen's breasts.
"Anyway," she said, reaching around him and lathering the muscled mounds of his butt, "the queen's itching was eventually relieved, and the dragon left satisfied and touted as a hero."
"This does not sound like a joke," Darius said.
"I'm getting to the punch line. Hang on. When the physician demanded his payment, the now satisfied dragon refused. He knew that the physician could never report what really happened to the king. So the next day, the physician slipped a massive dose of the same itching powder into the king's loincloth. And the king immediately summoned the dragon."
Darius threw back his head and barked with laughter. The sound boomed raw and new, and she fell deeper in love with him at that moment. She'd never heard anything so precious because she knew how rare such amusement was for him. She hoped he found such joy every day they spent together.
When his laughter subsided, a sensual light glowed in his eyes. His features were so relaxed, so open. "I'm intrigued by this breast feasting," he whispered, rubbing his nose against hers.
"I am, too," she admitted. "I have an itch."
"Allow me to help you." He pressed his lips to hers in a lazy, delicious kiss. His fiery flavor, his heat, his masculinity, still managed to enthrall her. Need and desperation wrapped around every inch of her body, and she threaded her wet hands around his neck.
His palms caressed a slippery path down her spine and stopped at the small indention at the base. When those scorching fingers dipped lower, cupped and pulled her tightly against him, she sucked in an eager breath. She pressed her lower half into him, cradling his erection. Her nerve endings were alive with the memories of making love, and longed to repeat the experience.
"I'm going to have you again," he said.
"Yes, yes."
"Tell me you want me."
"I do. I want you."
"Tell me you need me."
"So much I'll die without you."
"Tell me you love me."
"I do. I love you."
She was living passion in his arms, Darius thought, and she was all his.
"Kiss me. And don't ever stop kissing me," she said.
He did more than kiss her. He gifted her with sweet nips and erotic licks, then proceeded to suck every drop of water from her body. He invaded her senses until all she could see, all she could feel, all she could taste was him. She shivered when the tip of his tongue swirled along the edge of her ear.
Suddenly he paused. A slow, suspended moment dragged by. "Help me forget the past," he whispered brokenly.
She nuzzled his neck and dipped her hand over his ridged abdomen. When she clasped his thick erection, he hissed in a breath. She didn't hold him long, just long enough to stroke him up and down. Then she released him, granting him one last fleeting, teasing caress before cupping the heavy sac of his testicles.
While her fingers gently tugged, she swirled her tongue around his nipples. They felt like little spikes in her mouth, and she lapped at the masculine taste of him mingled with the water.
"How am I doing so far?"
"I need more time to decide," he said roughly, raggedly. His fingers tangled in her hair, then massaged her neck… her breasts.
The sight of his strong, bronze hands on her soft, white flesh proved the most erotic thing she'd ever seen. Once more she curled her fingers around his length. He was so hot and big, so hard. Up and down, she tormented him. She wanted so badly to fill his days with happiness, to help him "forget" his pain, as he'd said. No, not forget, but heal. She would do whatever was necessary to give him the peace he craved.
"What's your naughtiest fantasy?" she murmured against his collarbone. She bit down, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to leave her mark. "Perhaps I can make it come true."
"You are my fantasy, Grace." His hands cupped her jaw, and he forced her to look up at him. "Only you."
If she hadn't already loved him, she would have fallen just then. "I have a fantasy," she whispered. She licked the seam of his lips. "Want to hear?"