His lips met the feathery soft skin of her cheek. He lingered there, wanting so much more, but trying to content himself by drawing in her powdery, floral scent. Another kiss, this one a heartbeat from the temptation of her cherry mouth, reacquainted him with the downy texture of her skin.
Drex pulled away. Their gazes met. Christina opened her mouth, to say what he was not certain. At the moment, he ached too badly to hear a refusal.
He covered her lips with his, extinguishing the sound of her gasp with his mouth.
Warm surprise submerged him in joy. Instead of resistance in her embrace, he felt her welcome. Rather than opposition in her kiss, he felt yielding. He stroked her hair, held her tight, and kissed her with the oblivion of passion he yearned to share.
His tongue swirling to meet hers, and he tasted her with a groan. Their breaths mated as he held her close, fantasizing of the union of their flesh, their hearts.
And he kissed her once more.
Christina felt his nearness, his touch, through every nerve in her body. Her blood simmered with a longing she’d never thought to feel again. Breath rushed through her lungs in short gasps as she tried to sort the tangle of her thoughts.
Touching him now would not be wise. But he was her husband, a good man, not the Black Dragon.
The rays of the lamp light seemed not to extend beyond the two of them, creating the illusion that no world beyond existed. She paused, frozen by an ache, a sensation she could not put logic to. Pure desire.
Christina felt her teeth sink into her bottom lip as Drexell reached for her again. His hand touched her wrist, then slid down to take possession of her fingers.
A spark zinged through her body, igniting dormant senses.
“Your hands are cold,” he whispered.
-212-
The Lady and the Dragon
Christina met his stare in mute reply. She had believed from the time they’d spoken vows that her promise to love and cherish had been a lie, a fantasy she did not believe.
So why could she not erase the realization that she should have tried, at least a little, to care for him without judging him on the merits of another man?
She only now realized that she had failed him, failed them both, in their marriage. Her preoccupation with the Black Dragon and the pain he’d brought had kept her from realizing that, despite their physical similarities, they were profoundly different men.
Tears stung her eyes. She wiped them away, reminding herself she was tired and overwrought. The Black Dragon’s death had taken her by surprise, though not overmuch, if she were honest with herself. The way he’d lived his life ensured that he signed his own execution order long ago.
Maybe the bigger surprise was her husband. Patient, giving, compassionate, tender. He alone seemed to understand the loss she had endured, her fear to hope in the future. A warm tear slid down her cheek.
He rose and wrapped his arms about her. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
Christina buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, reveling in his familiar musky scent, part sandalwood, part pure man. Though she had fought him at every turn, Drexell had somehow become her anchor. He had not demanded intimacy when he could have, had not commanded her life as if God gave him the right.
Wrapping her arms about his neck, Christina held tighter. Drexell gave a reassuring squeeze in return and whispered soothing sounds in her ear as she spent her tears.
When the storm had passed, she raised her head and gave him an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t mourn him. He didn’t deserve you.”
He brushed the wetness from her cheek with his thumb. His dark gaze probed her face, leaving no curve or angle untouched.
“You’re staring,” she said, looking like a little girl lost.
“You are my wife.” He leaned closer, focused on her mouth.
-213-
Shelley Bradley
Heat rose in Christina’s cheeks as her heart picked up its pace. “You see me every day, my lord.”
“It’s Drexell,” he corrected, leaning closer until a mere whisper passed between their mouths. “And I’ve waited weeks to hold you this closely.”
She swallowed, clutching the kerchief in her hands tightly. “I’m sorry.”
Drexell’s body seemed to tense around her, envelop her as they sat thigh to thigh, chest to chest, nearly mouth to mouth.
“Shh,” he murmured, lifting his large hands to cup her face. “If I kiss you again, will you push me away?”
Her heart leapt into her throat and beat a triple-time rhythm that roared in her head. “No.”
Christina felt his groan melt her insides as he covered her lips with his own. His kiss fused their mouths and breaths, arms and wants. It was a brush of heaven.
She parted her lips to invite him in. He accepted the invitation and clutched her against him. He pulled her onto his lap, and she felt his hardness against her belly.
Drexell carried the light taste of ale on his tongue. Christina returned every nuance of the kiss. Her body tingled with anticipation as he pulled her further into his embrace, slanted his lips across hers again and took total possession of her mouth, her mind. The wet kerchief fell from her limp fingers.
He robbed her of breath before he finally lifted his head. She clutched his shoulders to prevent swaying in a dizzied frenzy of pleasure.
Drexell gulped in air. He stared at her, dark gaze greedy as it slid over her burning face and her shoulders. The scrutiny traveled down to her tingling breasts and their joined torsos, before he lifted his hot, carnal stare back to her eyes.
“If I wanted to make love to you now, would you lie passively in our bed?”
he asked, dark gaze probing all the way to her very soul.
“No,” she said into the dark shadows enveloping them.
His fingers tightened about her arms. “Say so. Tell me you want me, no one else.”
-214-
The Lady and the Dragon
Christina closed her eyes. A rush of certainty opened them again. “I want you to make love to me. No one else.”
“God, how I want to,” he groaned, then covered her mouth with his again.
Flashing lights danced beneath her eyelids as his lips enacted a sensual fantasy that created her short-breathed response. She wanted to draw him into her, sink every inch of his body within her own. Merge completely.
Drexell slid her wrapper from her shoulders, his fingers following the fabric down her arms in a feathery caress. Her skin came alive beneath his touch, as if infused with electricity. He followed the sensual torture with a trail of kisses down the column of her neck, butterfly-light.
As her wrapper fell to her feet at the floor, he guided her to the bed. She lifted herself up willingly, and Drexell followed her to the mattress.
She took nary a breath before he claimed her mouth with a swirling passion that made her head spin. He lay siege to her nightrail as his mouth drugged her mind. With a tug and a roll, the garment fell free and the night air caressed her skin, along with the scent of man and the heat of anticipation.
A moan escaped her throat as his hand enveloped her breast and his thumb brushed her nipple to rigid attention. He repeated the action with the other breast, producing the same sizzling result. Bending to her, he took one in his mouth, squeezed the other, and the bite of desire slashed through her body.
With a sweep of his fiery hand across her abdomen, she caught her breath.
His touch roamed across her hips, her thighs, then torturously skimming the damp ache between her thighs.
He lingered there, his touch light, raising her need…but never satisfying it.
“Open for me,” he whispered.
She complied shyly, watching him. Did he like what he saw? Did he want to touch her more?
Drexell more than answered those questions when he stared at her damp folds with hunger, then fitted his hands between her knees and pushed her thighs wider.
“What—”
-215-
Shelley Bradley