Page 15 of Rook (Dragon Brides #11)

Van life definitely looked cooler on a spaceship.

Sasha was probably supposed to be more awed, but she recognized the broad strokes of living in your vehicle.

There was a small bed bolted to the wall on one side.

A cockpit sat in front of a viewport that probably looked out at the stars under normal circumstances, but right then was just staring at blank screens.

Normal circumstances.

Ha!

A tiny kitchenette stood against one wall—if you could even call it that.

A single burner, unrecognizable alien appliances with glowing buttons, and a basin that might have been a sink occupied the space.

Everything was sleek and utilitarian, all curves and burnished metal with no sharp corners to bang into during turbulence.

A narrow door was set into the far wall, probably a bathroom, though Sasha wondered if dragons needed bathrooms the same way humans did. Did they even poop?

She understood why he'd been camping outside. Even with the space to stretch out her arms, this craft was a bit … dire.

"It's not much," Rook said, "but I don't need much."

He stood in the center of the ship, his massive frame making everything around him seem smaller.

His eyes found hers across the space between them, hot and hungry, like he wanted to devour her whole.

The air grew heavy, charged with something that made her skin prickle.

Her lips felt suddenly dry, and she ran her tongue over them without thinking.

His gaze tracked the movement, his jaw tightening.

"I thought you were a lord. Don't lords …"

"Travel in luxury?" he guessed.

She shrugged.

"I am here to bring fugitives to justice. This isn't a pleasure cruise."

Pleasure.

She couldn't think about pleasure with him in the room. If she thought about … that word … and him she might combust. Or do something he didn't want. He said he didn't want.

A man didn't look at a woman like Rook was looking at her if he didn't want to be kissed.

"How is your hand?" he asked.

She looked down at her palm. "What?"

"You injured it. Before."

And then he sucked on her like she was a lollipop. "It's fine."

Rook took a step towards her. "Let me see."

The space between them vanished too quickly. The ship had felt small before, but now it was tiny, claustrophobic in the best possible way. She was trapped with nowhere to run, cornered by a predator who watched her with gleaming eyes. Her heart beat fast in her chest, but her feet stayed planted.

She didn't want to escape. The thought of running never even crossed her mind.

Rook swiveled the cockpit chair around so it was facing the rest of the room. "Sit. Let me look." Going by his tone of voice, there was no telling him no.

She didn't want to tell him that anyway.

Sasha sank into the chair, the material cool against her thighs through her worn jeans.

Rook dropped to one knee before her, a powerful being brought down to her level.

There was something almost religious about it, something reverent.

His proximity made her mouth dry. He was so close she could count his eyelashes, see the faint golden flecks in his irises that weren't quite human.

His fingers were gentle over her palm as he traced the lines.

He held her like she was made of glass, turning her hand this way and that in the soft light of the ship.

His touch moved up her wrist, the inside of her forearm, slowly exploring every inch of skin like he'd never felt anything so soft.

His thumb stroked along her pulse point, and she knew he could feel her heartbeat racing.

The burn on her finger was all but forgotten; she wasn't even sure he was looking at the right hand anymore.

This had nothing to do with first aid and everything to do with touch, with contact, with need.

Sasha was tempted to say something cutting. I wouldn't want to be a distraction. It would stop this right in its tracks. It would serve Rook right.

She didn't say a word.

Rook's thumb traced circles on her wrist, and his eyes finally lifted to meet hers.

The moment expanded, stretched, became everything.

She could feel it in her bones—something cosmic, inevitable, a path laid out for them before either of them were born.

His pupils dilated until the gold was nearly gone, and then he surged forward, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that demanded everything.

If Sasha had any sarcastic rejoinders, they went out the door with any other conscious thought. Rook was kissing her. She might die.

Heat bloomed low in her belly, an aching need that radiated outward until she felt it in her fingertips.

His lips were firm, insistent, a brand against her own.

Her nerve endings lit up like sparklers, fizzling and sparking at every point of contact.

Her back arched instinctively, seeking more of him, her body knowing what it wanted even as her brain short-circuited.

Rook tasted like smoke and spice, something alien and familiar all at once. His scent wrapped around her, woodsy and male with an undertone of heat like sun-warmed stone. She breathed him in, dizzy with it, drunk on the very essence of him.

Rook groaned against her mouth as she leaned into him.

The sound vibrated through her bones. Her softness met his hardness.

The fit was perfect, as if she'd been crafted to nestle against his chest. His hands found her waist, spanning it easily, his fingers nearly meeting at her back.

He was strong enough to break her in two, and yet his touch remained gentle, reverent, controlled.

She needed closer to him. If she didn't feel his skin against hers, she might combust. And Rook was a dragon. He knew fire.

There was a fire in her, alright.

Sasha pushed off the chair, never breaking the kiss, and straddled his thighs.

The new position brought her core flush against the hard ridge in his pants, and they both groaned at the contact.

They tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Sasha clawing at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

Rook finally lost patience, grabbing the fabric and yanking it over his head in one fluid motion.

Holy hell. His chest was a masterpiece. Sculpted muscle rippled under golden skin, perfect ridges and valleys that begged to be traced with fingers, with tongue.

A dusting of dark hair narrowed to a tantalizing trail that disappeared beneath his waistband.

She reached out, hesitant, then laid her palm flat against his sternum. His heart thundered beneath her touch.

A sudden flash of self-consciousness hit her. She was just … her. Human. Ordinary. But the hunger in Rook's eyes burned away any doubt. She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it off in one swift motion, tossing it aside.

Rook's groan was almost pained. "Beautiful," he breathed, the word barely audible.

His gaze was physical, a tangible caress that swept over her body and left goosebumps in its wake.

No one had ever looked at her like that before, like she was precious and necessary, like he might die if he couldn't touch her.

The sheer naked want in his eyes made her feel powerful and vulnerable all at once, seen in a way that stripped her bare even with half her clothes still on.

Rook surged up and flipped her over and suddenly, she was lying on her back on the chilly floor.

His mouth found hers again, hungry and demanding, before trailing down her neck in a series of biting kisses that made her gasp.

Each spot his lips touched burned, a sweet sting that made her arch closer.

His hands claimed her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples through the fabric of her bra.

She whimpered, and he growled in response, the sound so inhuman it sent a shiver of excitement up her spine.

He pushed the fabric aside and lowered his head, taking one peak into his mouth.

The wet heat of his tongue made her cry out, her hips lifting instinctively, seeking friction against him.

He paid the same attention to the other breast, sucking and licking until she was writhing beneath him, her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer.

Rook pulled back a bit and grinned at her, and something in his expression shifted.

The intensity was still there, but there was something else too—a playfulness, a lightness that made him suddenly seem less like an alien warrior and more like …

hers. Like he belonged to her, at least for now. The realization stole her breath.

His hands moved to the waistband of her jeans, popping the button and dragging the zipper down with agonizing slowness.

Sasha lifted her hips, helping him strip them away, too far gone for embarrassment.

She needed him with a desperation that bordered on pain, an emptiness that demanded to be filled.

The cool air of the ship kissed her newly bared skin, making her shiver—or maybe that was the weight of Rook's gaze as he drank in the sight of her in nothing but her underwear.

Every inch of her felt alive, hypersensitive.

The metal floor pressed cold against her back, a sharp contrast to the heat of Rook's body hovering over her.

His scent surrounded her, filled her lungs with each panting breath.

Her thoughts fractured, scattered, reduced to primal need—touch, take, closer, more.

Rook settled in between her thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them wider. His breath ghosted over her most sensitive spot, hot and promising through the thin fabric still covering her. Then his tongue pressed against her.

Sasha let out a loud moan, the sound bouncing off the metal walls of the ship. There was no holding back, no hiding what he did to her.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband and drew her underwear down and off, his eyes never leaving the newly revealed flesh.

Then his mouth was on her, his tongue parting her folds in one long, devastating lick.

Pleasure shot through her, sharp and bright, making her gasp.

He hummed against her, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that made her thighs tremble.

Sasha lost herself in the feel of him, in the wet heat of his mouth working her with single-minded determination.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her, guiding him where she needed him most. Her hips lifted into each stroke of his tongue, shameless in her pursuit of pleasure.

The pressure built at the base of her spine, a coiling tension that wound tighter with each pass of his talented mouth.

He didn't let up, didn't give her a moment to catch her breath.

His hands gripped her thighs, keeping her spread for his feast. When he closed his lips around her swollen bud and sucked, the tension snapped.

She came with a cry, her body bowing off the floor, pleasure crashing through her in waves that left her gasping for air.

She must have been sex-high because Sasha could have sworn that there were little flames in Rook's eyes and smoke coming off his skin. His chin was wet with the evidence of her arousal.

Rook climbed up Sasha's body, his movements slow and predatory.

He slipped a finger inside her, groaning at how wet she was, how easily she accepted him.

A second finger joined the first, stretching her, preparing her for him.

His thumb circled her sensitive nub, drawing out the aftershocks of her orgasm and building her toward another.

"I need you," he groaned it like a prayer.

"Yes."

Slowly and with great care, Rook entered her, stretching her in the most delicious way. It was primal, it was physical, it was perfect. The slide of him inside her made them both gasp. He fit as if he'd been made for her, filling every empty space, sating a hunger she hadn't known she had.

Sasha's hands roamed over his back, feeling the play of muscles under her palms as he began to move.

Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure racing through her veins.

The sound of their breathing, ragged and desperate, filled the small space.

The scent of them together, sweat and sex and something almost like smoke, made her dizzy.

The taste of him lingered on her lips, spice and heat.

Every sense was overwhelmed, consumed by him, by them, by this moment that felt both impossible and inevitable.

Her body responded to his as if they'd done this a thousand times before, finding a rhythm that built and built until she was clinging to him, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Rook's movements grew more urgent, more desperate, his control finally slipping.

His forehead pressed against hers, his eyes locked with hers, golden and burning with something that looked like worship.

She felt the tension building again, that sweet pressure at the base of her spine.

Rook's hand slipped between them, his thumb finding that perfect spot, and she shattered again, crying out his name.

Her body clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and he followed her over the edge with a roar that was more dragon than man, his hips stuttering against hers as he found his release.

It was perfect. So perfect Sasha was pretty sure she was dreaming. Then Rook said the words no girl wants to hear while her body was still rippling with pleasure.

"There's something I have to tell you."