Page 33 of Dragon My Crazy

That seemed to satisfy her, because the corner of her lips lifted, and she closed her eyes. I leaned back in the chair and did the same.

Chapter 15

Elana

Thesheetsweretangledaround my legs as I woke from my dream. My pulse still thrummed between my thighs, the ghost of dream—Emmett’s hands lingering on my skin.

Damn it.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. The dream had been so vivid I’d thought it was real. I’d loved every moment,Emmett’s mouth on mine, his hands mapping my body. The way his voice had dropped to that rough, possessive growl when he—

I groaned, pressing my palms to my eyes.

It wasn’t fair. I’d spent years keeping men at arm’s length, especially the powerful ones, and now my subconscious was betraying me with a dragon!

I remembered the way he’d kissed me at the lake like he’d been starving. The way his hands had gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him. The way his breath had hitched when I’d—

Stop.

I’d started getting these dreams of Emmett two nights ago, which meant this was the third night in a row of absolutely filthy dreams of my dragon host. Which was not acceptable.

I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The dream had felt so real. And now I was wide awake and aching. And against my better judgment, a part of me wanted it to happen for real.

And that was a problem.

“Stop it,” I muttered to the ceiling.

I dragged myself out of bed. A cold shower helped. Barely. By the time I pulled on my robe and padded down the hall, I’d convinced myself that I’d finally beat the lust and I was over it.

The playroom was empty.

There was no rambunctious dragonlet or judgmental Luella in sight.

I turned to leave, only to bump right into Emmett. He stood in the hallway, Melly cradled against his chest, her tiny claws tangled in his shirt, her golden eyes bright with mischief.

But my eyes were on Emmett.

The way his sleeves were rolled up to show his forearms shouldn’t have been erotic. But there was something about the white fabric folded just past his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair that just did it for me. Muscles flexed as he shifted Melly in his arms.

The scent of his soap clung to him, mixing with the warm, musky scent of his skin, the perfect mix of smoke and cedar. His hair was still damp, the bronze strands curling at the nape of his neck, the ends brushing his collarbone. A single strand dangled across the sharp line of his jaw before catching in the stubble there. I imagined how it would feel against my lips, how the rough scrape of his beard would contrast with the heat of his mouth.

I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze away before I did something stupid like throw myself on him right here in front of the playroom. But the damage was done. My pulse was a drumbeat between my thighs, my body humming with desire. A rush of heat flooded my body, sudden and overwhelming.

I swallowed hard.

So much for being over it.

His eyes lit up when he saw me. Then he sniffed, loudly, and his smirk turned predatory.

Oh, hell.

I knew that look. He could scent me, and he knew exactly what I was thinking of.

Heat flooded my face, my body betraying me with a fresh wave of arousal. I focused on Melly instead.

“Morning, your highness.”

Melly stretched her arms toward me. Carry me.