Closing the gap between them, Drakon could feel Morgan tense, her hands squeezing in convulsive fists, even as her eyes widened and her lips parted with each quick shallow breath.

“You’re trembling,” he said, “but there’s no need for that. I won’t eat you. Not unless you want me to.”

“Drakon.” Her voice sounded strangled and her cheeks were crimson, making her blue eyes darken and shimmer like the sapphire sea beyond the window.

“I hope you’ll want me to. I love how you taste, and how soft you are in my mouth … so sweet. But is that too risky for you? Pushing the limits too much?”

“You love to torment me.”

“Yes, I do,” he agreed, circling her slowly, enjoying just looking at her, and watching the color come and go in her exquisite porcelain complexion, and listening to her soft desperate gasps of air. “But this is nothing, Morgan. I haven’t even gotten started.” He stopped in front of her, gazed down at her, thinking she looked very young and very uncertain and very shy, much like his virgin bride. “Now tell me, what should I do to you first?”

Morgan’s heart was pounding so fast she couldn’t catch her breath, and she opened her mouth, lips parting, to gulp in shallow gasps of air. She felt as if she were balancing on the edge of a volcano while little voices inside her head demanded she throw herself in.

She needed to leave, to escape the villa, to summon the helicopter and fly far, far away. Remaining here with Drakon was stupid and destructive. She might as well fling herself into that volcano … the outcome would be the same.

And yet, wasn’t she already there, in the fiery pit? Because molten lava seemed to be seeping through her veins, melting her bones and muscles into mindless puddles of want and need.

She actually felt sick with need right now. But could she do this … go through with this … knowing it would be just sex, not love? Knowing Drakon wanted her body but not her heart?

“Are you crying?” he asked, his voice dropping, deepening with concern, as his hands wrapped around her arms, holding her up.

She shook her head, unable to look him in the eye.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She swallowed hard, tried to speak, but no sound would come out. Not when her throat ached and her heart was still thundering in her chest.

He reached up to smooth a dark tendril of hair back from her face. “Have I frightened you?” His deep voice was suddenly gentle, almost painfully tender.

Hot tears scalded the back of her eyes. She bit hard into her lower lip so that it wouldn’t quiver.

“I would never hurt you, Morgan,” he murmured, drawing her against him, holding her in his arms, holding her securely against his chest.

She closed her eyes as the heat of his body seeped into her hands, warming her. He felt good. Too good. It was so confusing. This was confusing.