Page 17 of Shifting the Flame
Abruptly, Asher broke away, his breathing ragged. "We should get to bed," he said, his voice low. "Tomorrow's full of festival preparations."
Danica stiffened, stung by what felt like rejection. She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. "Right. Of course."
"Danica." Asher reached for her hand, his touch sending sparks up her arm. "This isn't rejection."
"No?" She met his gaze, struggling to maintain her composure.
"If I did what I wanted right now," he growled, pulling her closer until she felt every hard inch of him pressing against her body, "we wouldn't leave my bedroom for days. And while nothing would make me happier than exploring every perfect inch of you, we have responsibilities."
His words sent heat pooling low in her belly. "Responsibilities," she echoed breathlessly.
"I want you—make no mistake about that," he continued, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "But when I take you to my bed, I want to savor you properly. Not rush because of this damn festival hanging over us. You deserve my complete attention."
Danica's irritation melted away, replaced by molten desire. "That's... surprisingly reasonable."
"I have my moments." Asher's mouth claimed hers once more, his kiss a promise of things to come.
When they finally separated, Danica's legs felt unsteady. "Goodnight, then," she managed.
Asher's eyes glowed with intensity. "Sweet dreams, Danica. I know mine will be."
SIX
ASHER
Asher woke with the sunrise, an instinct as old as his dragon heritage. His body hummed with leftover energy from last night's encounter. The memory of Danica's fingers tracing his scales, the look of wonder in her eyes, and the softness of her lips against his sent a wave of heat through his veins all over again.
He stretched his muscular frame across the king-sized bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. Restraint had never been more difficult than when he'd walked away from her last night. His dragon had roared in protest, demanding he claim what was clearly his mate. But Asher prided himself on his control, or at least until last night. It's what made him an effective Alpha. Although with Danica around, he found that maintaining control was growing increasingly difficult.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar scent wafted through his open bedroom door. Bacon. Eggs. And was that... pancakes?
Asher's nostrils flared, inhaling deeply. His keen senses picked up another scent beneath the food – Danica's unique perfume mixed with something inherentlyher. His inner dragon stirred with possessive pleasure at the realization she was in his kitchen, making herself at home in his territory.
He sprang from bed, not bothering with a shirt as he pulled on a pair of black athletic shorts. The hardwood felt cool beneath his bare feet as he padded silently through the hallway, following the enticing aromas.
The sight that greeted him in the kitchen doorway stopped him cold. Danica stood with her back to him, humming softly as she flipped pancakes with expert precision. She'd changed into a light blue sundress that hugged every delicious curve of her body. The morning light streamed through the windows, illuminating her long brown hair which fell in loose waves down her back.
Something primal and ancient shifted in Asher. This woman – this human who'd fearlessly touched his dragon form – was moving around his kitchen as if she belonged there. And damn if she didn't.
His eyes tracked her movements, mesmerized by the gentle sway of her hips as she moved between the stove and counter. The dress dipped low enough in front to reveal the tempting curve of her breasts when she leaned forward to adjust the heat.
Mine, his dragon growled within him.Ours.
Asher realized with startling clarity that he wanted to see this every morning – Danica in his space, filling it with warmth and life. The revelation should have terrified him, this sudden certainty after knowing her for barely a day. Instead, it settled something restless inside him.
She turned suddenly, a plate of pancakes in hand, and jumped when she spotted him.
"Jesus!" Her free hand flew to her chest. "How long have you been standing there like some creepy, incredibly fit statue?"
Asher's lips curled into a slow smile. "Long enough to appreciate the view."
A becoming flush spread across her cheeks, but she recovered quickly, gesturing to the feast laid out on his kitchen island.
"Well, unlike someone who shall remain nameless," she said with playful emphasis, "I can actually cook without setting fire to perfectly good food."
No one spoke to him with such casual disrespect – no one dared. Yet from her, it felt like sunshine breaking through clouds he hadn't realized were there.
"Is that so?" He crossed the kitchen in three long strides, closing the distance between them. His eyes locked onto hers, drinking in the flecks of gold in her brown irises.
