Page 16 of Drawn by Dragonblood (Blood Born #1)
Dakota
M y eyelids popped open, and I blinked at the gorgeous sunrise through the window. Usually, I lingered in bed, enjoying the sleepy warmth of waking to a new morning, but as though caffeine already swam in my system, I found myself wide awake, ready and itching to move.
Jon snored lightly from behind me, and I rolled to take in my sexy husband. He was a vision of tanned limbs tangled in rumpled sheets, mussed hair, and parted full lips that had been kissing me senseless for years. The gentle rise and fall of his chest cradled a heart I all but worshiped.
I smiled while climbing out of bed and pulled on his T-shirt from the day before that had been soaked with his sweat, his natural scent—and Elijah’s.
The man’s essence covered everything like a magical creature from the books I read. I wondered if Jon could smell Elijah on me even though our host hadn’t touched me beyond a graze of fingers. Was Elijah’s scent the cause of Jon’s sudden insatiable lust?
Is it mine?
A shiver slid down my spine as memories of the last shifter book I’d read created too many fantasies in my mind. Being claimed. Bitten. Owned and bred. Warmth rose in my core, a hot, achy need that required a dick to sate. Even better would be two?—
I blinked the image away, released a slow exhale, and tiptoed from the room.
Coffee for Jon , I told myself to keep my thoughts contained to the sanctity of our marriage. Wake him in bed with a sleepy kiss only he deserved. Maybe enjoy one last ride on his cock before heading back down the mountain toward our car and home.
Something inside me hated the idea of leaving. Almost a…hiss of sorts spitting in anger like a pissed off cat with its hackles raised.
But I was no witch with a familiar.
The welcoming illumination rose in the hallway, but as the great room opened below me, the need for artificial light disappeared.
A spectacular view of the White Mountains, the lower ones with fog kissing their bases, filled the wall of windows.
Pink and gold etched across the sky, promising a new day.
A new beginning.
Smiling, I hurried down the stairs into the kitchen, needing to finish my task so I could capture every view from Elijah’s mountaintop home with my camera before Jon and I left.
Coffee grounds already sat ready in the French press, along with the makings for my green tea beside it.
My smile widened as warmth spread through my chest.
I turned on the stovetop, ears straining for a hint of our host’s whereabouts.
The only sound stirring the stillness besides the simmering teapot was the ticking of a clock.
Once the water neared boiling, I poured it over the coffee grounds and into my waiting mug.
There was still no hint of Elijah’s whereabouts or noise from Jon upstairs.
Needing that first couple of sips before pouring Jon’s coffee and heading back up to him, I cradled the mug in my hands, breathing in the steam. Piping hot with a swirl of honey, the tea was perfection.
I made my way to the sliding doors leading onto the veranda, drawn by the beauty beyond.
Thinking I would take a few minutes to enjoy the brisk morning all to myself, I grabbed a fleece throw off the couch and followed where my body led, sliding the unlocked door open and stepping out onto the veranda.
My breath fogged in front of me, but I slid the door shut and shuffled across the cold stone of the patio to the wrought-iron fenced edge. A sheer drop fell away before me, and a stairway of natural stone led down to the right, opposite of how we’d approached the day before.
Another smaller stone outcropping lay to the east at the bottom of the stairs.
Elijah stood in the rising sun’s rays, his upper body bare and glistening with sweat. He moved through some sort of yoga-type fighting stances—tai something or another most likely—with beautiful grace, the muscles of his body flexing and stretching with the preciseness of a machine.
I clutched the throw around me, forgetting all about the steaming tea in my other hand as every cell in my body honed in on him. My desire to freeze the image in my camera’s lens to drool over later grew as strong as the one insisting I draw closer to him.
The sunlight glinting off his damp skin brought to mind the dragon from my dream, the scales I had writhed upon, and the story Elijah had told us about Blood Born walking the earth. Arousal, thick and wet, rose between my legs, and I should have turned away, taking my focus and thoughts off Elijah.
My feet remained rooted to the cold stone, growing numb as I continued to stare at his liquid movements and the powerful muscles of his thighs. The bulk of his shoulders rippled as well as the muscles lining his stomach. The bulge hugged by tight shorts came fully into view as he turned sideways.
Shifting weight on his bent left leg, arms stretched out, he lifted his gaze.
Pale eyes met mine, stalling out my ability to breathe.
Elijah held the stance, unmoving as we stared at each other in the morning light, the sexual tension spanning the distance between us and intensifying that need to draw closer to one another.
I could taste his sweat on my tongue, could smell the brimstone and cinnamon scent of him in the air. My body leaked arousal down my thighs.
For Elijah, not my husband.
Heart squeezing as though in a vise, I spun and hurried back inside. I felt like a cheating whore, drooling and dripping over another man when the love of my life?—
Jon stood at the top of the stairs, shirtless, bleary-eyed, and scratching his balls through his shorts. His face lit as his gaze landed on me, his slow, easy smile with flashing dimples lovely and so much more than I deserved. “Looks cold out there.”
“Mmm,” I hummed an affirmative and, tipping my head down to hide my hot cheeks, hurried into the kitchen. “Coffee?” I asked, my voice shaky.
“Fuck yes.”
I poured the rich brew into a mug, my hand trembling.
Jon wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Hey, baby.” I couldn’t turn, couldn’t let him read my face. God knew what he would think of the desire crashing around inside of me and without doubt showing in my eyes in the thin press of my lips.
My husband nuzzled beneath my ear, his hard length resting against my lower back. “Missed you this morning.”
I snorted. “Your dick did, you mean.”
“Not just this.” He nipped my lobe while grinding against me. “The bed was cold. Empty.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, my guilt intensifying even though I’d left him with good intentions.
“Don’t be. Enjoy the fact I’m addicted to everything about you. It’s a good thing I can’t get enough of my wife, isn’t it?”
“Mmm,” I agreed, my eyelids fluttering shut as he licked over my neck.
“Why are you so goddamned delicious?” He groaned the question.
I laughed lightly as he nibbled on my flesh, my insides jittery, an absolute mess.
“Want to take a bite out of you. Mark you with my teeth so the world knows who you belong to.”
The possessiveness in his tone made my pussy pulse but also rekindled that worry in my head.
Was he quietly staking his claim, reminding me I was his alone?
I should have turned in his arms and assured him of my love, but the memory of how Elijah’s presence had seemed to call to me from the sunbathed cliff made my soul restless.
“Gotta pee,” I said, slipping out of Jon’s hold as he reached for the coffee I’d prepared for him.
And wipe the evidence of my lust for another man from between my thighs.
I hurried up the stairs, Jon’s trailing gaze lifting the hairs on my neck.
But I couldn’t help craving Elijah. His assured touch.
His dick.
The sound of my husband’s hurried footsteps behind me heightened my pulse and my need to be filled. This time, I would focus on him alone and ignore the fantasy itching my thoughts about a mythical creature and threesomes I’d never even considered until meeting Elijah.