In the end, she settled for staring at her fingernails. At least they distracted her for a second as she wondered absently how long it had been since she’d been to the salon. Too long, judging from the jagged edges of her nails and the peeling polish.
“You can look at me, you know. I didn’t say that to embarrass you.”
Her eyes shot to his before she could think better of it. “Yes, you did.”
“So you
can
give as good as you get. I wondered.” He inclined his head. “You’re right. I
was
hoping to embarrass you.”
She waited, but he didn’t say anything more. “And?” She finally asked.
“And what?”
“Aren’t you going to apologize?”
“Why should I when I’m not sorry?”
Her cheeks flamed yet again, but this time it was more indignation than discomfiture that made her blush. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe he was antisocial after all.
She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut—until he moved a little closer and ran a finger down her cheek. “I like the way you look when you blush.”
Of course, his words only made it worse. “Yeah, right. Nothing like looking like a tomato to really impress a guy.”
“Do you want to impress me?” he asked.
“It was just an expression,” she stuttered.
“Was it?” His voice had dropped, deepened, and his eyes seemed to glow as the shadows lengthened around them.
“Yes!” Cecily glanced around. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon. She needed to leave, to head back to the compound, but she was finding it difficult to move when he looked at her so intently. In all her life, she’d never had a man look at her quite like that before.
Oh, a number of her father’s
factionnaires
and business allies had studied her intently for years, but their looks were usually loaded with avarice. They saw her as a means to an end, a way to gain power in the clan—especially now that her father and Jacob were out of the picture. They wanted her, but only because of what she could bring them.
The look in Logan’s eyes, the way he angled his body toward her, the way his heat wrapped around her, told her more clearly than any words could that he wanted something else entirely from her. Maybe it was stupid to believe that—he was rogue, after all—but she found that she didn’t care.
So what if she was being stupid up here on the top of this mountain?
So what if she wanted to believe that this one dragon wanted her, Cecily, not just the Crown Princess of the Wyvernmoon clan?
So what if for once she wanted to act like a woman and not a puppet in her father’s quest to keep his
Conseil
in line?
No one would know if she didn’t tell them. And for this moment, right now, she wanted to say to hell with her innate caution. To hell with her innocence. To hell with everything but the heat coursing through her body under his steady perusal.
“Logan.” She took a step toward him, told herself to reach out to him, but she wasn’t that brave. Not yet. She wouldn’t run away if he wanted to kiss her, but she couldn’t bring herself to initiate it.
She didn’t know how.
“Cecily.” This time when he smiled, it didn’t hold a trace of mockery. Instead, it was warm and enticing and just a little bit feral. For the first time since she’d met him, she could see the beast that lurked deep inside him—intelligent, cunning, determined.
The knowledge made her chest tighten, made the act of drawing air into her lungs almost impossible. Deep inside, her own dragon stirred. Stretched. Even preened a little under the regard.
He must have seen the beast, because his eyes darkened and his breathing grew shallower. Harsher. Then he lifted a finger to her mouth, toyed with her lower lip.
She gasped and he took instant advantage, stroking his finger from her lip to the inside of her mouth. He traced the sharp edge of her teeth with his fingertip before brushing against the very tip of her tongue.
Instinctively, she bit down, nipping at the warm, resilient flesh.
He groaned and she started to apologize, more than a little shocked that she’d bitten him. But the look on his face told her he’d liked it, that she had nothing to apologize for. So she did it again, then laved her tongue against the small wound to soothe away the sting.
“Cecily.” This time when he said her name, his voice was low and gravelly and so tempting that she found herself leaning toward him without conscious thought.
She didn’t have far to go. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until her breasts skimmed against his bare stomach. He was hot, burning up, the fire that raged within him stoked to the highest degree.
Her nipples hardened at the feel of him—at the all-encompassing warmth of him—and she arched her back without conscious thought. She wanted to feel more of him against her, ached for it in a way she hadn’t known was possible before she met him.
That movement—and the permission implicit in it—must have been what Logan was waiting for. For the second she pressed herself against him, he slid his hand up her cheek to tangle in her hair.
He tugged gently—not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to let her know he considered himself in charge—and tilted her head up, up, up, so that their gazes met and locked. Then he moved his other hand to the small of her back, guiding her even closer, until their bodies were plastered together.
He lowered his head so slowly that she nearly screamed with the agony of waiting. Her body jerked against his as every nerve ending she had cried out for more. More contact. More pleasure. More everything.
And then he was there, so close that she could feel his warm, peppermint-scented breath against her cheek. She closed her eyes. Parted her lips. Waited for him to kiss her. And waited. And waited.
But he didn’t do it, didn’t move that last crucial inch, and her eyes flew open. “What’s wrong?” she breathed, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders. “Why won’t you kiss me?”
“I’m going to kiss you,” he answered, and her heart jerked painfully.
She closed her eyes again, tilted her face even more. And still he didn’t do it.
“What are you waiting for?” she demanded, her eyes opening for a second time.
“For you to want this as much as I do,” he growled.
“I do!” she all but wailed, her nails digging into his heavily muscled back. “I need—”
She never finished. His mouth slammed down on hers and she nearly screamed at the heat of it. The sexiness of it. The downright deliciousness of it.
He tasted like he smelled—of rich, tangy peppermint candy and an untamed Irish sea in the middle of a powerful storm.
He tasted of sex and satin sheets and long, sultry nights.
He was delicious and she wanted more, so much more than the meeting of their mouths could give her.
Her hands crept up his neck to bury themselves in his cropped hair. It was cool and silky against her fingers and felt so good she couldn’t help grabbing on. Tugging a little, so that his lips were pressed even more firmly against her own. And then she surrendered completely, giving herself over to the lightning flashing between them.
It was nothing like what she thought kissing him would be like, nothing like anything she had ever experienced before. Though she hadn’t kissed that many men, she had dated a few. Had let them kiss her and hold her, even if she hadn’t given them her virginity, and never had it been anything like this.
This was wicked and wild and so wonderful that she never wanted it to end. His lips were hard against hers, firm but just a little out of control. And his tongue . . . It was everywhere. It swept over her bottom lip, nuzzled at the corner of her mouth before darting inside and stroking against her own tongue. Back and forth, over the roof of her mouth, down her cheek, along the inside of her upper lip before delving deep to explore her most hidden recesses.
She gasped, and he pulled back a little, a questioning look in his eyes. But she refused to let him go—not yet, not now when she had barely gotten a taste of him and the pleasure he could bring her. Instead, she pressed her advantage and sucked his lower lip between her teeth.
He groaned, and the hand at the small of her back slipped lower to cup and knead her ass. It was her turn to moan, and as she did, he lifted her with one strong hand until the bulge of his cock brushed against the thin fabric of her jeans, barely separating him from her sex.
She saw stars—there was no other word for the blinding flashes of light that pulsed behind her closed eyelids—and her hands slipped down to clutch at his neck, his shoulders, his back.
Being held by him was unlike anything she had ever felt before, and she never wanted it to stop. Wanted to stand right here in this little copse of trees, the only sounds their heavy breathing and the waterfall behind them, forever. Wanted to forget about the mess her clan was in and the duty she had to somehow steer them through it.
The sudden reminder of her clan was like cold water dumped over her head. She couldn’t forget them, couldn’t hide away like she always had. They needed her down there with them, not up here with the hottest dragon shifter she had ever seen, let alone kissed.
She pulled back reluctantly, and for a second she wasn’t sure Logan was going to let her go. His hands tightened, squeezing her more firmly against his very aroused body.
“Logan, stop.” She whispered it, and even though a part of her knew the last thing she wanted him to do was stop, she forced her hands to let go of him and push against his chest.
He relinquished his hold on her instantly, stepped back and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. She did the same, figuring it was safer, as the look on his face was so aroused, so intense, that she wanted nothing more than to latch on to him again and pick up where they’d just left of.
Only common sense kept her rooted to her spot. That and the knowledge that if she kissed him again, neither of them would stop until they were naked and rolling around on the ground. It was a strange thought. Highly arousing, but still strange, as she’d spent her entire existence thinking of her sexuality as some entity completely separate from herself.
She’d had to, if she’d had any hope of surviving. Like most other shifters, dragons were highly sexual creatures. But while her girlfriends had indulged themselves after they’d reached a certain age, steeping themselves in sex with young, sexy males of the clan, she’d been stuck in her father’s house, her virginity bartered like that of a highborn lady of old. Except
bartered
wasn’t exactly the right word, was it? Not when her father had refused to ever relinquish her to anyone, instead holding her up as a prize that he would give away to the man who most impressed him.
The result was that she had gone through her life without ever being touched. Alone and lonely and sometimes aching so badly that she could hardly stand it.
I can change that right now,
a little voice in the back of her head told her. Logan was ready and willing, and judging by the hard bulge in the front of his jeans, more than able. Her knees trembled at the thought, and for a second she fantasized about what it would be like to reach out and touch him there. To have the right to stroke his aroused cock with her hand, her body, her mouth.
Heat slammed through her, and Logan made a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. “No offense, Cecily, but if you want to call a halt to this, you need to stop looking at me like that.”
“How am I—” Her voice broke. “How am I looking at you?”
“Like you’re a kid on Christmas morning and I’m the last candy cane on the tree.”
She thought of his peppermint scent, of the warm, fresh peppermint taste of him, and felt everything inside her melt.
Does he taste like that everywhere?
she wondered.
Or are there other amazing tastes in store for me as I explore his body?
Her breath came out in a strangled gasp, and his laughter changed to a growl that shot straight through her. “I’m serious, Cecily. You need to stop, or I’m going to end up taking you where you stand.”
Though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she forced herself to back away slowly. Much as she wanted Logan, much as she wanted him to make love to her and melt the frozen core that had been within her for as long as she could imagine, she knew that she couldn’t let that happen.
Not when she was trying to get her clan back on the right path.
And not when she might very well have to marry one of her father’s
Conseil
members to do it.
“I need to go,” she whispered, but from the way his eyes turned almost black, she knew he’d heard her.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to convince her to stay, and a little part of her smarted at the omission. Not because she would have been able to stay with him, but because she wanted to—and wanted him to feel the same way.
“I guess I’ll see you around,” she said with a shrug, and started backing up the trail. She wanted to turn around and flee, but years of experience with Julian and Acel and Remy had taught her not to turn her back on a dragon with that pissed-off look on his face. Not that she thought Logan would really hurt her, but sometimes it paid to be careful . . .
He was beside her in a flash, so fast that she wasn’t sure she’d even seen him move. He didn’t block her path as Julian might have, didn’t try to bully her or use their obvious attraction to get her to stay. Instead, he just walked beside her back to the clearing where she’d first seen him.
“Will you come again?” he asked, and she wasn’t sure if the impatience in his tone was for her or for himself.
“If you want me to,” she answered.
He brushed a hand down her cheek. “I want you to.”
“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “How long are you going to be staying up here?”
“A couple of days. Maybe a week.”