Holy Smokes
Page 7
Drake’s eyes narrowed as he eyed the bandage on my forehead. “You look like hell.”
“Oh, man. This is so not going to end well,” Jim said, putting a paw over its eyes.
“Out!” I ordered, pointing to the door. In the hallway beyond, Pál and István, Drake’s two red-headed bodyguards, were visible talking to Uncle Damian. “Yes, that’s an order. Go afflict yourself on someone else.”
“What happened?” Drake asked, touching the bandage.
I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, breathing deeply to absorb that wonderful spicy Drake scent that simultaneously made me feel safe, and want to rip off all his clothing and have my way with him. “Oddly enough, I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“You answer first. I have not been injured. What happened to you?”
“Demon attack. Nora was there and banished them. I hit my head on a garbage can, that’s all. Oh, the wedding is rescheduled for tomorrow at three. Your turn—where were you?”
Drake pushed me back off him, his hands quickly running over my body, obviously in an attempt to check for in juries.
“That would be a whole lot more fun if we were both naked, but since we aren’t, and since you haven’t answered my question, you can stop now,” I told him, slapping at his hands as he felt my rib cage.
His frown was a thing of beauty to behold—beautiful in its fierceness, that is. No one could frown quite like Drake. I think it was a combination of that square jaw, the long, thin nose, the black hair sweeping back…or maybe it was his eyes, those fascinating green eyes that were never quite human, the slightly elongated pupils giving his eyes an exotic, foreign appearance that always fascinated me.
“Have you seen a doctor?” he asked, his hands ignoring mine to settle on my belly.
“No, there was no need to. It’s just a small cut on my head.”
“The baby could be hurt. I will call a doctor.” He leaned over to grab the phone.
I snatched it up before he could get it. “The baby is not hurt. If there is a baby, and we’re not sure there is, so please stop with the overprotective stuff.”
“The pregnancy tests came back positive,” he answered, trying to pry my fingers off the phone.
“Two did. The other two said I wasn’t pregnant.” I curled my fingers tighter around the phone. Drake had always been a protective sort of guy, but he’d gone into overdrive with the possibility of a baby.
“It’s been three months. We know. You’re pregnant,” he answered, his frown growing darker as he realized he couldn’t get the phone from me without hurting my hand.
“It’s been two and a half months, and the doctor said the demon lord stuff was messing up the test results. We’re just going to have to wait and see what the ultrasound shows.”
“You will have that now rather than wait until your appointment next week,” Drake ordered in his bossy voice.
I smiled. Dear god, how I loved him, annoying ways and all. “All right.”
“I know you had the appointment arranged for after our trip to Paris…all right?” His brow cleared. I giggled at his look of surprise.
“Yeah, I was a bit stressed when I made that appointment. I think it’s going to be better for us both if we know for certain sooner rather than later. I’ll try to get them to move it up to this week, OK?”
“Now,” he said, trying to tug the phone from my hand.
“After the wedding,” I answered, my grip and intentions resolute.
He pursed his lips. I licked them.
“Immediately afterwards.”
I thought for a few seconds. The reception was scheduled to follow the wedding, but since the hotel ballroom was booked for earlier today and not tomorrow, our chances of having that were nil. I sighed. “It’s not a horribly romantic way to end a wedding, but I’ll try to get the appointment for tomorrow afternoon.”
“I think it’s romantic,” Drake answered, desire making his eyes go molten as he pulled me up against his body. “We have made a child together. I greatly enjoyed the creative process.”
“Well, put that way, I suppose it is…go on, say it. You haven’t yet today, and you know the rule—I have to hear it once a day until you can say it without making a big drama over it.”
Drake sighed an exaggerated, much-put-upon sigh, although I noticed his hands were busy groping my butt. He growled low in his throat, a sound that never failed to make my toes curl with delight. “What if I were to breathe fire on you instead, kincsem?”
“How about you do both?”
His lips touched mine, teasing, tasting, sending me into a near frenzy of desire as I opened myself up to his dragon fire. His kiss was as fiery hot as the dragon fire that surrounded us, burning around our bodies in a spiral of flame that would have set off the smoke detectors if Drake hadn’t had this room specially fireproofed.
Drake’s tongue got all bossy with mine, as it was wont to do, something I tolerated with extreme pleasure. As kisses went, it was at the top of the scale, his body moving seductively against mine to the point where I was considering how long it would take to engage in wild, sweaty bunny sex on the floor of the study. But there was something missing from the kiss, something that I’d taken for granted until it was gone, something that I hadn’t realized I would miss so much when it was denied to me.
I couldn’t share his dragon fire. He could heat me up from the outside with it, as he was now, but it was the sharing of his fire that had bound us so intimately, the fire doing more than just giving me energy—it had woven itself into my being, an element that was part Drake, part me, one that was unique to us. Without it, I felt…unfinished.
I kissed him with all the passion I had. He tasted as he always did—hot and spicy, like he’d been drinking dragon’s blood, a potent spiced wine that was favored by the dragons, and which could be fatal to mortals. Reluctantly, I pulled away from him, my heart aching for all that we’d lost. “Why did you have enough time to have a drink, but not to marry me?”
“István had a flask with him,” Drake murmured against my neck, his lips branding a hot trail of fire over to the spot behind my ear that made my legs go weak. “The police gave it back to him when they released us, and we had a pull on it in the car on the way home.”
“Oh, man. This is so not going to end well,” Jim said, putting a paw over its eyes.
“Out!” I ordered, pointing to the door. In the hallway beyond, Pál and István, Drake’s two red-headed bodyguards, were visible talking to Uncle Damian. “Yes, that’s an order. Go afflict yourself on someone else.”
“What happened?” Drake asked, touching the bandage.
I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, breathing deeply to absorb that wonderful spicy Drake scent that simultaneously made me feel safe, and want to rip off all his clothing and have my way with him. “Oddly enough, I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“You answer first. I have not been injured. What happened to you?”
“Demon attack. Nora was there and banished them. I hit my head on a garbage can, that’s all. Oh, the wedding is rescheduled for tomorrow at three. Your turn—where were you?”
Drake pushed me back off him, his hands quickly running over my body, obviously in an attempt to check for in juries.
“That would be a whole lot more fun if we were both naked, but since we aren’t, and since you haven’t answered my question, you can stop now,” I told him, slapping at his hands as he felt my rib cage.
His frown was a thing of beauty to behold—beautiful in its fierceness, that is. No one could frown quite like Drake. I think it was a combination of that square jaw, the long, thin nose, the black hair sweeping back…or maybe it was his eyes, those fascinating green eyes that were never quite human, the slightly elongated pupils giving his eyes an exotic, foreign appearance that always fascinated me.
“Have you seen a doctor?” he asked, his hands ignoring mine to settle on my belly.
“No, there was no need to. It’s just a small cut on my head.”
“The baby could be hurt. I will call a doctor.” He leaned over to grab the phone.
I snatched it up before he could get it. “The baby is not hurt. If there is a baby, and we’re not sure there is, so please stop with the overprotective stuff.”
“The pregnancy tests came back positive,” he answered, trying to pry my fingers off the phone.
“Two did. The other two said I wasn’t pregnant.” I curled my fingers tighter around the phone. Drake had always been a protective sort of guy, but he’d gone into overdrive with the possibility of a baby.
“It’s been three months. We know. You’re pregnant,” he answered, his frown growing darker as he realized he couldn’t get the phone from me without hurting my hand.
“It’s been two and a half months, and the doctor said the demon lord stuff was messing up the test results. We’re just going to have to wait and see what the ultrasound shows.”
“You will have that now rather than wait until your appointment next week,” Drake ordered in his bossy voice.
I smiled. Dear god, how I loved him, annoying ways and all. “All right.”
“I know you had the appointment arranged for after our trip to Paris…all right?” His brow cleared. I giggled at his look of surprise.
“Yeah, I was a bit stressed when I made that appointment. I think it’s going to be better for us both if we know for certain sooner rather than later. I’ll try to get them to move it up to this week, OK?”
“Now,” he said, trying to tug the phone from my hand.
“After the wedding,” I answered, my grip and intentions resolute.
He pursed his lips. I licked them.
“Immediately afterwards.”
I thought for a few seconds. The reception was scheduled to follow the wedding, but since the hotel ballroom was booked for earlier today and not tomorrow, our chances of having that were nil. I sighed. “It’s not a horribly romantic way to end a wedding, but I’ll try to get the appointment for tomorrow afternoon.”
“I think it’s romantic,” Drake answered, desire making his eyes go molten as he pulled me up against his body. “We have made a child together. I greatly enjoyed the creative process.”
“Well, put that way, I suppose it is…go on, say it. You haven’t yet today, and you know the rule—I have to hear it once a day until you can say it without making a big drama over it.”
Drake sighed an exaggerated, much-put-upon sigh, although I noticed his hands were busy groping my butt. He growled low in his throat, a sound that never failed to make my toes curl with delight. “What if I were to breathe fire on you instead, kincsem?”
“How about you do both?”
His lips touched mine, teasing, tasting, sending me into a near frenzy of desire as I opened myself up to his dragon fire. His kiss was as fiery hot as the dragon fire that surrounded us, burning around our bodies in a spiral of flame that would have set off the smoke detectors if Drake hadn’t had this room specially fireproofed.
Drake’s tongue got all bossy with mine, as it was wont to do, something I tolerated with extreme pleasure. As kisses went, it was at the top of the scale, his body moving seductively against mine to the point where I was considering how long it would take to engage in wild, sweaty bunny sex on the floor of the study. But there was something missing from the kiss, something that I’d taken for granted until it was gone, something that I hadn’t realized I would miss so much when it was denied to me.
I couldn’t share his dragon fire. He could heat me up from the outside with it, as he was now, but it was the sharing of his fire that had bound us so intimately, the fire doing more than just giving me energy—it had woven itself into my being, an element that was part Drake, part me, one that was unique to us. Without it, I felt…unfinished.
I kissed him with all the passion I had. He tasted as he always did—hot and spicy, like he’d been drinking dragon’s blood, a potent spiced wine that was favored by the dragons, and which could be fatal to mortals. Reluctantly, I pulled away from him, my heart aching for all that we’d lost. “Why did you have enough time to have a drink, but not to marry me?”
“István had a flask with him,” Drake murmured against my neck, his lips branding a hot trail of fire over to the spot behind my ear that made my legs go weak. “The police gave it back to him when they released us, and we had a pull on it in the car on the way home.”
