Free Darkfire Kiss by Deborah Cooke

jacket and slid them over the hardness of his muscles. She met his gaze and smiled as she caressed him. “No dragons here.”
    “Maybe just one,” he said softly.
    “Maybe I have to see more to be sure,” Melissa replied.
    His eyes glittered; then he smiled. There was a hint of dragon in that look, but then it was gone. She didn’t care—she wanted him anyway. He must have seen as much in her eyes, because he kissed her again. This kiss was rougher, more demanding, more exciting.
    More vital. How could there be half measures with a dragon? Melissa closed her eyes and arched her back, catching her breath when the warmth of his hand closed over her breast.
    He slid his thumb over one nipple, urging it to a peak, then bent to take the nipple in his mouth, nudging the edge of her lace bra aside. Melissa gasped in pleasure, feeling the constraint of the lace and the persistence of his seductive tongue. She locked her fingers into his hair and heard herself moan.
    She didn’t even know his name.
    She didn’t care.
    She’d never been impulsive about sex, had never had a one-night stand, but she knew that if she turned him away now, she’d regret the choice for the rest of her life. This was her celebration of survival, and she would take it, without reservation. She would let loose, for the first time ever, and doubted she’d regret it.
    Her lover seemed to understand as much. He pushed her shirt away, then flicked the front clasp of her bra. She saw his smile before his hands closed over her breasts. His thumb teased the first nipple while he kissed the other. Melissa closed her eyes and savored his touch.
    She squirmed against him, and he inhaled sharply. Before Melissa could blink, he lifted her into his arms and headed for the living room. He laid her on the leather couch with reverence, stepping back to look at her as he peeled off his jacket.
    She watched him, unashamed of her attraction. His dark gaze locked with hers as he shed his jacket and put it on the opposite chair. He crossed his arms before himself and pulled his long-sleeved amber T-shirt over his head, revealing a tight white undershirt.
    And one heck of a six-pack. Melissa propped herself up on one elbow to watch. The light from the streetlamps filtered through the blinds on her living room window, painting his form in alternating stripes of light and shadow. Had she ever seen such a powerful male specimen? His shoulders were so wide, every muscle pumped, and his skin an evenly tanned gold all over.
    The white T-shirt was removed with similar methodical haste; then he bent to unfasten his boots. His attention was fixed upon her all the while, and again she had the sense that he would stop with a single gesture from her.
    Melissa’s mouth was dry, but she had no intention of making that gesture. This was a night for second chances, for making up for lost time, and for fresh starts. She knew she wasn’t going to regret whatever happened in this room in the next hour.
    He set his boots, socks tucked inside, neatly at the foot of that chair and faced her again, his hands on the waistband of his jeans.
    Melissa smiled encouragement.
    His slow, responding smile made her heart thump against her ribs. He unzipped the fly of his jeans and eased them over his hips, utterly confident in his own body. The sight of him made Melissa’s heart gallop in anticipation. He paused, and she took advantage of that instant to rise to her feet.
    Aware of his hungry gaze upon her, she shed her clothes, many of which were already unfastened. She didn’t have his grace and patience, and certainly wasn’t as neat. Melissa peeled the garments off and cast them aside, unafraid if he knew just how much she wanted him.
    And how soon.
    She hesitated when she was wearing only her panties.
    His eyes were bright in the darkness, his gaze locked on her. That this man could find her appealing was all the aphrodisiac Melissa needed. She knew she wasn’t unattractive—she also knew