Kiss of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 1) - Paranormal Fairytale Romance by Alisa Woods Page B
Authors: Alisa Woods
Tags: Romance - Erotica
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her not in the slightest. She eased up to him, the flimsy silk of her dress barely covering the swell of her substantial breasts and clinging to every other curve. “Of course not. You’re a shifter. The hottest kind of man.” She slid a hand up over his chest to the back of his neck, pressing her body against his.
He gently took hold of her shoulders and stepped back. Obviously, he had not thought this through. With his singular focus on Arabella, he’d miscalculated the difficulty of pretending to have this hookup. She’d been urging him for days, and he only relented because he needed something to arouse some feelings in her—if only the base kind, jealousy—that he hadn’t yet managed to evoke in his bumbling attempts at seduction. At times, he wondered who was seducing whom. When Arabella was near, he could feel the heat of her body reacting to his, he could scent her desire, and what’s more, he could sense a tremendous need inside her, burning brighter with each passing day. But she stubbornly refused to take that extra step, the one that would end with them tumbling into bed, and with Arabella’s heart falling for him.
Not that he deserved a woman like her.
He was barely worthy to bed the blonde-haired beauty before him, and then, only because he would leave her with exactly what she wanted—a well-satisfied body. That was all she wanted, and it was all he had to offer any woman.
And now he was denying this poor woman even that, all in service of seducing another woman that he, by all rights, should leave alone. He should return Arabella to her noble pursuits and relatively safe life. This game he was playing with her was a dangerous one… and not just to her. He could feel himself slipping, his own need burning bright, and if not for the treaty, he would fly to a place of solitude and simply wait until he reverted to wyvern, like any decent dragon would, given his position.
But that wasn’t an option for him.
And each moment he spent in Arabella’s presence, he was seduced even more by her nature and her needs, the passion and the buried darkness. He ached to take her to his bed. That would be a necessity in the course of events, but it also ran the very real danger of cracking open wounds that were not yet healed, no matter what fiction he told his brother. There was a mere crusting of blood and torment which barely covered the surface of it. The wound itself was deep and irreparable. And one that shouldn’t be repaired. It was his penance, and he carried it because that was the only justice he could serve.
His low growl of frustration would have been audible in the high-end hotel room, with its shiny mirrors and steel surfaces, except for the groan coming off Sandra eclipsing his own.
Her long-fingered hands were balled up at her sides. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”
He couldn’t afford to send her off in a rage of unsatisfied sexual needs—that would no doubt get back to Arabella through messages on his WildLove app, if nothing else, and he would be forced to explain. And who knew what Sandra would say. She was too much of a wildcard in this tightrope act he was walking.
He debated simply going through with it, but that worked for neither him nor advancing the situation with Arabella. Although it appeared that it would definitely work for Sandra.
Oh, how Leonidas would be taunting him if he knew…
Of course. The solution was instantly clear. He held his hands out in conciliation to Sandra. “I understand that this must feel less than forthright. Please, have a seat, and let me be honest with you.” He gestured to the bed.
The frown that had burrowed into her forehead lifted with that invitation. He settled next to her and gazed into her green eyes. She was a beautiful woman. Leonidas would be merciless in his insults, but they would be directly solely at Lucian. With her, he would very much enjoy himself. As would she.
“I’m afraid there’s someone else,” Lucian
He gently took hold of her shoulders and stepped back. Obviously, he had not thought this through. With his singular focus on Arabella, he’d miscalculated the difficulty of pretending to have this hookup. She’d been urging him for days, and he only relented because he needed something to arouse some feelings in her—if only the base kind, jealousy—that he hadn’t yet managed to evoke in his bumbling attempts at seduction. At times, he wondered who was seducing whom. When Arabella was near, he could feel the heat of her body reacting to his, he could scent her desire, and what’s more, he could sense a tremendous need inside her, burning brighter with each passing day. But she stubbornly refused to take that extra step, the one that would end with them tumbling into bed, and with Arabella’s heart falling for him.
Not that he deserved a woman like her.
He was barely worthy to bed the blonde-haired beauty before him, and then, only because he would leave her with exactly what she wanted—a well-satisfied body. That was all she wanted, and it was all he had to offer any woman.
And now he was denying this poor woman even that, all in service of seducing another woman that he, by all rights, should leave alone. He should return Arabella to her noble pursuits and relatively safe life. This game he was playing with her was a dangerous one… and not just to her. He could feel himself slipping, his own need burning bright, and if not for the treaty, he would fly to a place of solitude and simply wait until he reverted to wyvern, like any decent dragon would, given his position.
But that wasn’t an option for him.
And each moment he spent in Arabella’s presence, he was seduced even more by her nature and her needs, the passion and the buried darkness. He ached to take her to his bed. That would be a necessity in the course of events, but it also ran the very real danger of cracking open wounds that were not yet healed, no matter what fiction he told his brother. There was a mere crusting of blood and torment which barely covered the surface of it. The wound itself was deep and irreparable. And one that shouldn’t be repaired. It was his penance, and he carried it because that was the only justice he could serve.
His low growl of frustration would have been audible in the high-end hotel room, with its shiny mirrors and steel surfaces, except for the groan coming off Sandra eclipsing his own.
Her long-fingered hands were balled up at her sides. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”
He couldn’t afford to send her off in a rage of unsatisfied sexual needs—that would no doubt get back to Arabella through messages on his WildLove app, if nothing else, and he would be forced to explain. And who knew what Sandra would say. She was too much of a wildcard in this tightrope act he was walking.
He debated simply going through with it, but that worked for neither him nor advancing the situation with Arabella. Although it appeared that it would definitely work for Sandra.
Oh, how Leonidas would be taunting him if he knew…
Of course. The solution was instantly clear. He held his hands out in conciliation to Sandra. “I understand that this must feel less than forthright. Please, have a seat, and let me be honest with you.” He gestured to the bed.
The frown that had burrowed into her forehead lifted with that invitation. He settled next to her and gazed into her green eyes. She was a beautiful woman. Leonidas would be merciless in his insults, but they would be directly solely at Lucian. With her, he would very much enjoy himself. As would she.
“I’m afraid there’s someone else,” Lucian
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