Page 51 of Blood Singer

I traced my fingers along her shoulders, felt her shiver. "You're trembling," I said, my voice rough.

"So are you," she whispered.

She was right. My hands shook as I slid the chemise straps down her arms, as I watched the fabric catch briefly on the curves of her before falling away.

She was perfect. Full breasts with dusky pink nipples already hard and waiting. The soft curve of her waist flaring into hips shaped for my hands. Soft thighs I already knew I'd think about for centuries. And between them, glistening evidence of how much she wanted this.

"Kavan," she said, something small and vulnerable in her voice. "You're staring."

"I can't seem to stop," I said. "You're exquisite."

Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck and across her chest. "Your turn," she said, her voice going husky.

I pulled my shirt over my head and watched her eyes move across my chest and then lower, taking inventory of the scars accumulated over several lifetimes. There were a lot of them. I'd never thought much about that before.

"Battle?" she asked, her fingers reaching out to trace a long scar along my ribs before she seemed to realize she was doing it.

"A few," I said. "Training, mostly. Drakhoni heal fast, but not always clean." She nodded, her touch lingering, and I understood that she was a person who learned things through her hands. Had probably spent years reading the world through small physical details.

Her gaze traveled lower as I unfastened my pants and stepped out of them, and her breath caught audibly.

"Oh my God," she breathed.

"If you've changed your mind—" I started.

"You're huge," she blurted, her eyes snapping to mine. "I mean, everywhere. Not just—I mean, that too, but—" Her face went deep red and she gestured vaguely at all of me. Despite the desperate want coursing through me, I laughed. A real one, from somewhere in my chest that hadn't been used in this particular way in a very long time.

"I know what you meant," I said, closing the distance between us.

"I'm just going to stop talking now," she muttered, but she was grinning, and when I pulled her against me, skin against skin for the first time, we both made a sound like an exhale that'd been held too long.

She was so warm. Soft everywhere I was hard. Her breasts pressed against my chest, her belly soft against my abdomen, and lower, the heat of her core against my thigh made it briefly impossible to think in complete sentences. Her scent filled my lungs completely, and the sound of her rapid breathing, the particular rhythm of her heart. I filed all of it away with the focused attention of a creature whose senses didn't miss much.

I kissed her again, deeper, my tongue exploring her mouth while my hands learned the geography of her back. I traced the curve of her spine, feeling her arch into me, then cupped her ass and pulled her harder against me. She made small sounds of pleasure that I'd be thinking about for the next several centuries. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as if she needed the anchor.

"Bed," I managed. "Now."

I guided her backward until her legs hit the mattress, then laid her down on the furs. She looked up at me with dark, wanting eyes, her honey-blonde hair spread across the pelts, her skin flushed. My dragon surged at the sight, ancient and possessive and absolutely certain, but I forced myself to slow down. She deserved this done properly.

I started at her neck, kissing and tasting the sensitive skin there, feeling her pulse race under my lips. She smelled incredible. Warm and alive. I worked down to her collarbone, then lower to her breasts. When I took one nipple into my mouth, she gasped, her back arching off the bed. I sucked and licked and teased, taking my time, until she was writhing beneath me and her hands were fisted in my hair.

"Kavan," she breathed. "Please."

"Please what?" I asked, moving to her other breast.

"More," she gasped. "I need more."

I kissed my way down her stomach, feeling the muscles flutter under my lips. Her scent grew stronger the lower I went. Wildflowers and sunshine and desire so concentrated it made my head swim. By the time I reached the apex of her thighs, she was trembling, her legs falling open in invitation.

She was gorgeous here too. Pink and glistening and so ready that her wetness had already reached her inner thighs. I looked up at her. The heaving chest, the flush across her whole body, the way she was biting her lower lip.

"Please stop teasing me," she said, genuine desperation threading through the words.

"As you wish," I said, and put my mouth on her.

She cried out, her back arching hard, her thighs trying to close around my head. I held her hips down with one hand and used the other to open her fully, and then I took my time. She was sweet and tangy and intoxicating, and the sounds she made were the most erotic thing I'd ever encountered. Gasps and moans and small helpless whimpers.

I learned her the way I'd learned to read terrain before a battle. Methodically, attentively, noting every response. I found what made her hips jerk and what made her say my name and what made her grab the furs above her head with both hands. When I found her clit and circled it with my tongue, she practically screamed. I settled in, alternating pressure and rhythm, and I felt the tension coiling in her body, climbing toward something inevitable.