“I’m not doing it right . . . show me.”
It was sweet torture, her fingers on him, the pressure so light and soft... he had to finish this. He wrapped his hand around hers, showing her the way of it... the firmness of the pressure.
Then he lifted his hand and prayed she’d continue. She did. She was nothing if not a quick study. She kissed his neck as she worked her hand up and down. He’d spill soon. He took her other hand and guided it to his ballocks, showed her what he liked.
“I’m nearly there,” he said jerkily, “don’t stop.”
She doubled her efforts and the muscles of his abdomen bunched and tensed until finally he found a shattering release. He flopped back on the bed, panting, riding the last waves of surging sensation. “Ana. That was incredible.”
She handed him a handkerchief after wiping her own hands.
“Good duke,” she said.
He smiled into the darkness. He liked it when she took control, he thought sleepily. Then jolted awake. What were these errant thoughts?
Dangerous. That’s what they were. “Go back to your bed now, Ana.”
“You said you wouldn’t sleep in my bed, but you didn’t tell me not to sleep in yours,” Ana said, trying to make light of his command for her to leave.
“It’s the same thing. I told you why I made that rule. It’s for your protection, so that if I have a night terror, I won’t accidentally harm you.”
“I think it’s foryourprotection. You’re too comfortable in yoursilence, in your solitude. You refuse to change or compromise even the slightest bit.”
She’d come to his room to tell him that she’d solved the mystery of the list of names, that she knew he was a good person at heart, but when he said things like that, when he pushed her away, it hurt.
“Good night, Ana.”
Back in her room she lay awake, reliving the evening in her mind.
There was a lingering afterprint from his touch, like a page accidentally printed twice, a ghost script underneath the real words. It didn’t matter what she said during the day, she was really living for the night, when he was all hers. His focus completely on her pleasure. On bringing her to ever steeper heights.
Then he became distant again. She touched him but he didn’t reciprocate. He was preoccupied. But tonight she’d commanded him. She’d made him groan and call out her name.
Perhaps this was the key to his heart. Remove the barriers between their bodies, and she might be able to reach his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Redeem yourself, Qavox! Fight this evil with me.”
“Princess,” he growled, “my mind hasn’t changed. I must leave you here. There is no redemption for a dragon.” He bowed his neck, and she slid down to the ground in front of the castle gates.
She placed a hand against the warm column of his foreleg. This beast had been her sole companion lo these many months, and in that time he had frightened her, disappointed her, maddened her with his implacability. Yet he believed in her in a way that nobody ever had, made her feel as if she could indeed take on a castle full of evil and be excited for whatever came next. Tears sprang into her eyes. “Goodbye, my Dragon.”
—The Dragon and the Blue Starby Analise Crewe
Tonight was the night.
Tonight they would consummate this marriage.
Dex stood at the tall windows looking out on the garden path. It wasn’t the early autumn foliage, or the late summer roses, resplendent golds and fuchsias and magentas harmoniously blending in the hazy late afternoon sun that caught his gaze. It was the womanwalking up the path, her slight form in a butter-yellow gown, bending gracefully from time to time to smell a random bloom, then straightening and staring off dreamily into the distance, no doubt composing a description of their scent to be written down immediately once inside.
He was supposed to be back in London by now. He’d finally located Harrison’s sister, Laurel, and the situation was worse than he’d feared. She’d been forced out of the family home after the war, where she’d been set up as Harrison’s housekeeper, and had subsequently disappeared into a succession of increasingly menial jobs, until finally his solicitor had found her selling meager posies in St. Giles, sleeping in a shanty with dozens of other down-on-their-luck sorts.
She was currently waiting for word from his solicitor at a respectable boarding house he’d secured for her, but she was half-blind from a fever and badly needed a companion to aid her in her daily tasks. He had a list of potential candidates and had meant to be in London to interview them all personally.
He had work to do, the work that had occupied him since he’d recovered from his injuries. Doing his part to ease the lives of others who had been devastated by the war. He shouldn’t be lingering here like a lovesick schoolboy, staring out the window at Ana, dreaming about what he would do to her tonight.
He’d promoted one of his staff to serve as temporary steward, a man he trusted. He should be on his way back to London. Fulfill his duty and resume the life he’d built for himself. Ana would stay here where everyone doted on her.