Amy’s lips tasted like pineapple gloss and nervous excitement. And she broke it off early before Pyro had even begun to get a fraction of the reassurance he suddenly craved.

Taking his hand in her gloved fingers, she squeezed. Her eyes glistened a little too bright. “Let’s go home.”

Familiar lines rolled off his tongue. “Yours or mine?”

“Yours!” She wiggled in her curve-hugging dress. “I live with a roommate, you know. It would kind of get in the way of the whole ‘wedding night’ tradition.”

He allowed her to lead him back to the rentals where she returned her dress and changed back into street clothes — well, her skirt and that delicious, sheer camisole — and then she curled her arms around his neck and buried her face in his suit-clad shoulder.

“Alright. I’m ready.”

The tremble in her voice said she was anything but ready. And that only ratcheted up his own tension.

Tonight suddenly felt like the most important night of his whole existence. Funny that it should feel that way after he’d married.

Again.

He pressed her to his chest and lifted them gently into the night.

She’d married him before a demonstration of his bedroom prowess. Such a thing was unheard of among dragons. Obviously there must be lots of sex to produce dragonlets, which was the only way to validate a marriage.

Humans were so odd. Marrying him without having sex suggested she liked something else about him. His personality. Or his real self.

Impossible.

What was there to like? He was an unreliable, hotheaded bastard driving a successful company to destruction — or into a devil’s bargain with the aristocrats he and his siblings hated.

There was nothing for Amy to like but what was on the outside.

He alighted in his lair with the questions remaining unresolved.

She clung onto his lapels. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and nervousness again.

Her excitement and nervousness infected him, raising those same emotions in his chest.

“What now?” she asked, almost a whisper.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Tired?”

She shook her head.

“Dirty?”

She frowned. “That’s not a nice thing to ask.”

“I’m not a nice human.”

Now, she did react. He was teasing her, and she recognized it. “You’re a nice dragon.”

“I’m not that nice.” He tugged her with him, backward through the rooms, to his bathroom door. “It’s time for that shower.”

She shivered even though the room was within an optimal temperature range. “I might be a little dirty.”

“I’m counting on it.”

She yanked at her camisole, jerky movements as she fought losing her nerve.

He closed his big hands over hers. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh? Are you sure?” Then, jolting with new realization, she pulled free and reached for his buttons. “I’ll undress you.”

Part of him wanted to stop her. She didn’t need to be so fearful around him. He’d handle everything.

The other part of him was curious, and curiosity won. He spread his legs and stood proudly while her trembling fingers unmasked his nude body. Even though she had seen his torso so many times this weekend, when the last button revealed his broad chest and narrow waist, she sucked in a quick breath.

He flexed.

She slid reverent fingers across his tight muscles. A soft smile lit her face.

He kept calling this “her innocence” but maybe the truth was more her reverence. She didn’t take the smallest thing for granted but honored and savored each step. It made him want to honor and savor her.

Now, they were married.

One.

He lifted her camisole over her slender shoulders and splayed his fingers over her exposed belly and back.

She covered her bra as though trying to hide her chest from his gaze, but she snuck peeks at him in the wall mirror.

“Like the view?” he teased.

“I have to keep telling myself it’s real. It’s either snoop in the mirror or pinch myself.”

He turned her so she could see herself fully. His hands looped around hers.

She swallowed and looked away.

He nuzzled her sensitive ear. “I thought you wanted proof.”

“It’s too full-on. I have to face uncomfortable facts.” She shivered and adorable bumps rose on her skin. “I’m not at my ideal body weight and you’re all my ideals.”

It took him a moment to process her meaning.

American women feared curves. Amy had especially lush ones that enticed his hands to squeeze and his cock to bury itself in. But now she thought that they mismatched because she was so squeezably soft and he was hard as the center column of a spaceship.

“We look good together,” he assured her.

She looked up at him. Her green eyes gleamed clear and worried. “Do you think so?”

Something ached in his chest. Her trust was so meaningful. “Yes.”

Her brows cleared. She believed in him.

He was done with thinking.

Pyro dropped his mouth to hers, claiming her with his lips. She opened to him, yielding to his hot, wet possession. Amy. His tongue thrust into her recesses, driving worries from her mouth until the only sounds that emerged were hungry moans and needy whimpers.

That was how he needed her.

He tightened his arms, pressing her derriere against his hard cock.

She melted into him.

Suddenly it was more important than ever he make her glad she married him. She would then want to stay married. Not toss him over once she’d gotten her fill. She must not get sick of him. He must please her thoroughly.

So she’d never let him go.

Pyro broke the kiss to nip up her jaw to her small ear. He tugged the lobe.

She gasped. Her knees folded, resting her weight on his immovable forearm around her waist. His other hand transformed into claws and severed her bra.

The fabric sprung apart, unveiling her swelling, creamy globes topped with tender, pink nipples.

He worshiped her, exploring the first sweet breast and then the other. Feeling their weight in his cupped palms, he brushed, squeezed, twirled the pert nipples. She gasped, moaned, and finally ground against his ready cock.

He pulsed against the fabric. Beads of precum dampened his trousers.

Still stroking one nipple, he unzipped her jeans, thrust his human fingers beneath her panties, and cupped her damp mons.

“Yes,” she whispered. Eyes squeezed closed, she rolled her head back to rest against his shoulder.

Her movement exposed the long expanse of her slender neck.

He tongued her hot skin.

She whimpered with need. “Pyro.”

Working his fingers between her folds, he coated himself in the silken cream of her feminine arousal. And his other hand, the arm that was still holding her upright, stroked her nipples.

Her breath came in short gasps. She shuddered.

He pressed a finger into her slick channel.

Clamping down on him, she thrust against his hand, working him deeper. “Oh, please. Oh, god. Pyro!”

Her arousal flooded him. He lost control and sucked on her neck hard enough to mark her.

She made a pure sound of exquisite pleasure and then shuddered. Her channel clenched around his fingers.

In the mirror, her release was magnificent.

She sagged against him, trusting him once more keep her safe. “Oh. Wow. What was that?”

He removed his hand from her sensitive areas and finished unpeeling their clothes. “That, Amy, was foreplay.”