Chapter Fourteen
Forge needed to stop kissing her. He shouldn’t be holding her. Shouldn’t have his hands anywhere near her gorgeous arse either. And caressing her petal-soft skin? Oh, so not a good idea. He ought to be shot. Drawn and quartered. Hung from the nearest rafter. Or something. Maybe then his brain would kick over and order him to do the right thing. Wanting her wasn’t the issue. Taking her—making Hope his—didn’t qualify as the main problem, but . . . good Christ. He shouldn’t be doing it like this, with her reeling, punch drunk from the healing energy his dragon half continued to feed her.
An honorable male would back off.
Think.
Assess.
Sit her down and talk it out.
Which made it official. He should pull away, explain the way things worked while he made his position clear and let her decide. Only two options existed for females in his world—accept his dragon half, become his mate, or run like hell. Clear cut. Concise. No room for misinterpretation. And yet, as her tongue tangled with his and lust unfurled, Forge wanted to ignore the rules. Screw the handbook and the arsehole who’d written it. He wanted to be selfish and remain where he was—on top of Hope, hips cradled between her thighs, chest pressed to her breasts, mouth fused to hers.
With a groan, he shifted to one side.
He needed access. More of her body available to him.
Taking his time, he stroked her, each touch light, giving her time to come to her senses and push him away. His fingertips ghosted over her stomach, then paused, hovering above her skin. Wait a moment. Draw it out. Let the anticipation of his next caress build as he lifted his lips from hers. Questions must be asked and answered. He needed to make sure she wanted him as much as he did her before—
“Please,” she whispered, desperation in her voice.
“I know what you want.” Goddamn. Did he ever. Energy-fuse gave him a direct line to her thoughts. Erotic images floated through her mind, invading his and . . . God have mercy. Talk about X-rated. Her imagination outdid his, pushing into porn star territory. She wanted to be naked in his arms, spread open, on display, her body available for whatever he wanted, just as long as he mastered her in the end.
Eyes closed, Hope arched, begging for his touch. “Please.”
“Donnae worry, luv.” Dipping his head, he licked her bottom lip. “I’ll give you what you need.”
Eager to keep his promise, he slid his hand beneath her shirt. Soft skin brushed his palm. Cotton rose, baring her midriff, bunching against his forearm. Wanting to look, but needing her mouth more, he kissed her again. And again. Over and over. Light caresses. Deeper possessive forays. A game of taunt and tease, gifting her with his taste, treating himself to hers, arousing her as he tried to get his fill. It would never happen. He knew it without proof. One kiss, and she’d ruined him for other females. Corrupted him with her sweetness. Destroyed him with her willingness to please him.
With an impatient whimper, she twisted beneath him.
Turning his hand, Forge stroked over her hip, the dip of her waist, slipping over her rib cage, worshiping her curves before releasing her mouth. He grabbed the hem of her T-shirt, and with a hard tug, pulled it over her head. Her hair caught on the fabric, then broke free, tumbling over her shoulders. His breath caught. Holy shite. He should’ve realized. No bra, which left her bare, on display in the low light. Exposed to his gaze. Ready for his hands. In need of his mouth to warm her in the cool air.
He traced the underside of her breast.
Color bloomed in her cheeks. Her lips parted on a moan as she rose to meet his next stroke. So pretty. Incredibly sensitive. A gorgeous, round handful, the perfect fit for his palm. Watching her face, he played, cupping her firmly, letting her feel him before brushing his thumb over her peak. Her eyelashes fluttered. A shiver shook her. Pleasure rumbled through him. Hot. Needy. Beautiful in his arms. Hope was a dream come true, his siren song, the one he’d been waiting for all his life. The female he needed above all others.
The thought registered.
His sense of fair play squawked, splitting his attention. Shite. Again with his ethics. Bloody scruples. Terrible fucking time to be interrupted by principles.
With a growl, Forge steeled himself, preparing to pull away. No matter how incredible Hope looked in his arms—or how much she made him feel—making love to her was wrong, the absolute worst way to start a relationship. Forge knew it. And even if he didn’t, his conscience refused to let him forget. The bloody thing kept screaming—stop, stop . . . STOP! The warning flashed like a neon sign inside his head. Not hard to guess why. Hiding the truth from her would only lead to problems later on. Honesty was a factor. His need to protect her from all comers—himself included—was another. She needed to know about Dragonkind before he claimed her. Which meant he should tell her everything, starting with—
His dragon half stirred, waking from pleasure-bound oblivion.
The beast snarled in warning.
Forge flinched and turned his focus inward. A steely-eyed glare met his and . . . ah, hell. Not good. Terrible, in point of fact, given his territorial side didn’t agree with the plan. The greedy bastard despised principles. Cared even less for honesty. Or that Hope wasn’t quite herself at the moment. The beast wanted what it wanted—to claim his female, bind her to him so hard and fast she’d stay even after she learned the truth.
Bad idea. His conscience told him so.
He must refocus . . . fast. Things needed to go a certain way. Hope deserved the truth. All his consideration. Every bit of his patience. She needed to be clearheaded when he took her the first time. Not fucked up, drunk on his essence, deep in the pleasure of her first energy feed. Great thought. Absolutely right. Being up-front, giving her a choice, was the decent way to go. Forge nodded. All right, good. Problem solved. Now all he needed to do was stop kissing her.
Easier said than done with his dragon half AWOL.
The bloody bastard was running for the fences, refusing to listen. Baring its teeth, the beast broke the chains, escaping lockdown, and ambushed him by opening the floodgates. Unquenchable need poured out. The torrent of lust rushed through him. His mind blanked. Good intentions vanished.
Both hands buried in his hair, Hope breathed his name.
Her plea rammed through his crumbling defenses. His control detonated. The explosion ripped through what remained of his honor. Forge cursed. Fucking hell. He needed help, some kind of rescue. He couldn’t resist her any longer. Not with his dragon half on the rampage and Hope half-naked beneath him.
Flat on her back underneath Forge, Hope lost all sense of herself. Self-control was a thing of the past. Her body had grown a mind of its own, wrapping her legs around his waist, fisting her hands in his hair, demanding he kiss her deeper, harder, and hmm yes, longer. A purr of satisfaction rumbled through her and . . . oh yeah. Absolutely. No question about it. He was desire personified. It was the only explanation for her reaction. His mouth acted like a drug, delivering a lethal dose of dear-God-more. She crumbled in seconds. In less than an instant. Time split as the intensity of his kiss turned her first taste of him into an addiction. And now she knew—finally understood the depths to which obsession could sink. How her patients became addicts in the face of driving impulse. How quickly someone succumbed to vice with the right impetus.
Forge qualified as the catalyst—the launchpad, the lash into wicked behavior.
At least for her.
He was a force unlike any she’d ever encountered . . . and she’d seen a lot. Had helped countless people beat the odds—unearth emotions long buried, deal with unresolved hurt, and overcome addiction—and now she wondered if she’d ever truly understood. If any of her advice was rooted in reality. Hope moaned as he drank deep. God, he tasted amazing. Was a high she couldn’t ignore and refused to temper. He gave so much, bombarding her with delight, whipping her frenzy so high that ecstasy beckoned, whispering her name.
Her body throbbed.
Her libido begged.
Her professional ethics didn’t make a sound.
That ship had sailed, and far too easily. Without a peep of protest.
The realization should’ve pissed her off. Hope wanted to scowl. She kissed Forge back instead, abandoning her scruples. The wrong thing to do. Somewhere in the part of her brain that still worked, she acknowledged the mistake. The sensible side of her screeched in outrage. Lust brushed the objection aside. She needed what Forge fed her. Wanted the pleasure, craved the connection along with the man. Her reaction to him didn’t make any sense. For once, Hope didn’t care. She let her analytical side sink to the bottom, burying it deep inside her. Just once. Please, just once. She’d be good later. Do the right thing, but . . . not now. Not yet. She needed to loosen the reins, let the rigid ethics she lived by slip from her fingers and—
“Da!” The unhappy cry came from the next room. “Da, da, da . . . da, da!”
“Shite.” Forge raised his head, releasing her mouth. She made a sound of protest. With a growl, he returned to nip her, then turned his head to glance at the digital clock sitting on the bedside table. “Three fifty-three p.m. Right on time.”
He sighed, the sound full of frustration.
Hope squirmed beneath him, so needy she throbbed in discomfort. Gosh darn it all. So unfair, but babies couldn’t wait. G. M. was the priority, and as Forge’s gaze returned to her, she knew she wouldn’t be getting what she needed from him—the body-banging orgasm she craved.
Amethyst eyes shimmering, Forge dipped his head. She lifted her chin, meeting him halfway. He licked over her bottom lip, delivering his taste, making her shiver and ask for more without words . . . like an addict would her dealer.
Forge treated her to another gentle kiss. “Sorry, jalâyla. Bad timing, but my son—”
“Da!”
Amusement sparked in his eyes. “Isnae the most patient of lads.”
“He’s hungry?”
“Aye.” His lips twitched. “He’s always hungry.”
“Growing boys usually are.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, pushing away from her.
Hope resisted a moment, then let him go. No sense broadcasting her neediness, but God, it was difficult to release him. She did it anyway, unwrapping her legs from around his waist, removing her hands from his hair, allowing him to push to his knees. Cold air washed over her skin, raising goose bumps as he skimmed her face, her breasts, and lower, over her belly. Her nipples tightened. His eyes heated an instant before he dipped his head and licked one pebbled peak. Heat sped through her veins. Bliss arched her back, offering him more, begging for the pleasure.
He growled against her skin. “Donnae move, lass.”
“But—”
“Stay exactly as you are.” He sucked her nipple hard, the pleasure-pain made her whimper before he released her to turn his attention to her other breast. His mouth surrounded her, the suckle and draw forcing a groan as he bit down, holding her between his teeth with gentle pressure. “We’ll finish what we started when I get back.”
“I don’t think—”
“Good. Donnae think when you’re beneath me—that’s my job.” Gaze dark with desire, he gave her a warning look before rolling to his feet. Heading for the door connecting his room with the nursery, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Five minutes. Get naked, lass. Be in my bed when I return.”
Get naked. Be in bed—NAKED and waiting for him.
The words shivered through her. A lovely set of syllables when combined and . . . oh man. Time to be honest—Forge hadn’t just used words, he injected each one with command. An order not to be disobeyed. His tone said it all, and Hope wanted to obey. Her body leapt up and down at the idea, going preschooler with its need to please. Or maybe it was the promise of pleasure he offered. The thought made Hope pause. Common sense came roaring back. She blinked. What the hell was wrong with her?
Something serious.
Something in need of adjustment.
Something she must kill . . . dead, immediately.
The realization prompted her get-up-and-go. Get naked, her ass. No way, no how. Without Forge touching her, her brain came back online. The therapist—the one with principles and sense enough to panic—raced to the rescue. Yeah. Absolutely. Going had just become priority number one. Hiding until she formed a plan was a close second. Hope snatched her T-shirt off the floor and popped to her feet. Dragging it over her head, she turned toward the door—the one leading into the hall. But more importantly, the one Forge hadn’t just disappeared through.
Time to escape.
Her libido wasn’t happy with the idea. Forge wouldn’t be either. But as she listened to him talk to his son in the other room—his tone so pleased and loving—her heart quaked, then cracked, the fissure reaching a place inside her she’d thought long dead. God, this man. What was it about him that called to her, compelled her, made her want to break all the rules? Hope didn’t know, but one thing for sure, the return of her faculties—along with a healthy dose of self-preservation—dictated the course.
She needed to run: hard, fast, and—she glanced toward the double doors on the other side of the room as she scurried toward the exit—very, very quietly. She didn’t want him to catch her. The last thing she’d survive was a confrontation. The second Forge touched her, she’d cave. Her body still hummed. Need and sexual frustration weren’t far away, so . . . you betcha. New plan. She needed to find a quiet spot to think. To regroup, put the train back on the tracks, and figure out a way to resist him before she ended up naked in her new client’s bed.