Mal alighted on the outer balcony and released her with an order. “Inside.”

Cheryl staggered. Her tennis shoes skidded on the ice and she plopped on the frozen stone. Chill seeped through her thin jeans. Blizzard-puffs of snow scratched her ears and cheeks.

The whole trip from Portland to Mount Hood, which took hours by car, ended in a little under five minutes. She hadn’t been able to focus on hugging him as much as she wanted because the flying part was distracting. And this was probably her only chance.

She rubbed her palms on her jeans. At least she’d gotten to hug him.

And she couldn’t stop shaking. Partly it was the snow-capped, glacier-harsh winds smashing hard, powdery snow on her hoodie; partly it was from flying across a metropolis like she’d been launched from a cannon; and partly it was because she was here, at Mal’s house, with Mal.

When she was in danger, he came for her.

Her heart thudded.

Mal stood in front of glass sliding doors. A blue light scanned his eye. Lights flickered on throughout the house and the balcony doors slid open. A gust of comforting heat covered her, then was ripped away by the harsh winds.

Mal turned, saw her on the ground, and frowned. He lifted her to her feet one-handed. “In.”

More touches. Yum.

She forced her worn tennis shoes across the frozen marble and into the fortress. Heat enveloped her and chased away the chill. The balcony doors closed behind them.

She drank it all in. This was probably her first and last time in his house. She had to savor every moment.

The inside of the fortress was set up like a giant lodge. Fires blazed in three fireplaces. To her left, a large stone room seemed strangely bare. In the middle, a hallway terminated. To her right, a living room branched into a palatial office.

Mal stormed to the office. A mahogany desk presided over one wall. That was so like him. He stationed himself behind it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, finally getting enough warmth back to stop her teeth from chattering. “What’s the emergency?”

“You.” His green eyes glowered at her.

Was she in trouble? What had she done?

Wait. Had her disrespectful, cutesy logo offended one of the other dragons and now her life was in danger?

Mal removed a yellow folder from inside his suit jacket and threw it on the desk.

Was that… the marriage application? No way.

He opened the folder and stabbed the marriage application. “You didn’t sign.”

It was what she thought it was. Little tingles shimmered through her. Pixie dust.

Laugh or yell? Her hands trembled. He had stolen her out of class and frightened her.

Well, stolen might be the wrong word. She had wanted to escape by any means possible, and he had answered her prayers, but there would be consequences for her grades, and…

He was looking at her in accusation.

She found her voice. “You can’t be serious.” Oh good, she sounded normal.

The green intensified. “Why?”

“You kidnapped me out of my final portfolio review. That affects my grade, Mal. My professor’s going to be pissed.”

“I’ll explain it to him.” Mal picked up his big, black corded phone.

She tapped the hang-up button. “It’s too late now. And you scared me. I thought it was a real emergency.”

“It is a real emergency.”

“How is this an emergency?”

“You must sign and become my wife.”

Her chest throbbed.

No. Way. This wasn’t possible. He didn’t really want her. She was hallucinating. There was some mistake.

She shook her head.

His anger flared. “What stops you?”

A gorgeous, gruff, billionaire CEO wanted her. Cheryl. Soon-to-be-unemployed, assuming she passed this class and graduated, graphic design intern Cheryl. There was just no way.

“Do I have a rival?” he demanded.

She snorted. “No.”

“Then.”

He dropped the phone on the desk and threw back his shoulders, exposing his arrogant chest in its tasteful gray button-down.

“I run the company that will be number one outside Draconis! It is worth billions of our coins and even more in yours. I am a fit male capable of many fights. I have a full wingspan for mating flights and I will give you as many dragonlets as you wish. Am I not a suitable male to be your husband?”

The phone made the cannot-connect ringing noise. If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try your call again.

That was it. There, that was definitely it.

She picked up the phone and put it back in its cradle.

He pushed the pen at her. “Sign and become my wife.”

She shook her head.

“No?” He growled and the defensive, almost hurt tone she detected inside his office returned. “Why not?”

He was a fit, hot, billionaire. She couldn’t be his only choice or his last choice, which were the only two choices that made any sense.

Her voice lodged in her throat. Her questions crystallized into a whisper. “Why me?”

“You are Cheryl.”

That meant nothing.

He stared at her as if he had answered the question and now it was time for her to sign.

He was her boss. His heart was in the right place, even if he lead with his hard head.

Mal would never intentionally hurt anyone. Even his greatest rival he wanted to beat in the boardroom, not in the street. And she didn’t want to hurt Mal either. She just wanted to understand.

“Why do you want to marry me?”

“Because I must marry, and I will marry you.”

“You must have a million other options.”

He shook his head. “No. My option is you.”

Her heart thumped. The delicious heat turned up. Don’t get too excited. He didn’t mean it the way it sounded. He hadn’t been in love with her from the first week, hadn’t felt the hot-cold kiss of destiny the moment he defended her to the other manager.

“Why?”

He still didn’t get it.

“What is it about me that makes you think I’d be a good wife?”

“Why are you my choice?” He blinked and frowned. “Don’t you know your own qualities, hobbies, and interests?”

Well, it sounded like fishing for compliments when she asked like this. Mal wasn’t the flowery type and didn’t praise people just to charm them. And she could not comprehend this. She was an ordinary college graduate about to become a starving, unemployable artist who produced greeting cards nobody wanted.

“It doesn’t seem real,” she said. “You’re interested in me? It sounds like a dream.”

“A good dream or a nightmare?”

“The good one,” she assured him. “But surreal. Say whatever you want, but I can’t believe you have feelings for me without proof.”

“I can do proof.” He crossed the desk, drew her into his arms, and kissed her.

Thoroughly.

His iron-hard grip held her melting body upright as his lips pressed to her mouth.

Oh. God.

This was a dream.

The pressure of his lips was firmer than she’d fantasized. His mouth was hotter. His breath tickled her cheek. Rough, masculine stubble scraped her chin.

It wasn’t a dream. She’d never imagined stubble.

Mal was kissing her.

His scent teased her with promises of naked skin and sensual arousal. Her feminine center throbbed between her thighs, hungering for the male who sweetly dominated her.

He swept his tongue across her seam and nibbled her lips. “Cheryl. Open for me.”

She obeyed.

He growled and swept his tongue into her wet mouth. Thrusting into her deeply, every stroke discovered, enthralled, claimed. He teased her teeth. Sensations overwhelmed her.

He consumed her until the world faded to black. Everything was him. Gorgeous, powerful, domineering Mal.

Her knees went weak.

Mal lifted his head. His eyes crackled with green fire. Ownership stamped across his implacable features. “You are mine.”

She licked her deliciously bruised lips. His flavor remained, indelibly imprinted on her. “That was my first kiss.”

“Mine also.”

She sucked in a breath. Really? Had she misjudged him? Despite his physique, attractiveness, and dominant masculine strength, had women avoided him? Or had he buried himself so completely in his work that he was also still a virgin?

“Did you never have a girlfriend, or, uh… anyone? Or any romantic relationship? In your life?”

He shook his head decisively. “Only you. Now.”

“Mal…” Then, reality slivered into her tenderness. “Um, me neither. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I do.” Confidence blazed in his powerful form. “Jasper showed me educational videos. I understand human sexuality very well.”

Educational videos?

In her moment of distraction, he growled and turned her to the marriage application. “Sign.”

She did so.

God, she was nuts. This was nuts! A rich, handsome dragon asked her to marry him, kissed her senseless, and then, while she was still weak in the knees, she signed and marked the application date.

He pulled the pen out of her hands and drew her against him.

His gaze intensified with mesmerizing heat. “We consummate our marriage. Now.”