She didn’t push him away, and yet she couldn’t relax, waiting for the moment he’d let her go. But she didn’t want him to let her go. She wanted him closer. Wanted to press her face to his chest and breathe him in. She could smell a hint of his spicy fragrance and loved that fragrance—his own scent, formulated just for him—and what it did to his skin. He smelled like heaven. Delicious and warm and good and intoxicating. He smelled like everything she wanted. He smelled like home. He was home. He was everything to her, but wasn’t that the problem? With him, she lost herself. With him, she lost her mind.

With a strangled cry, Morgan slid a hand up across his chest, to push him back, and just like before, once she touched him, she couldn’t take her hand away. She stroked across the hard plane of muscle of his chest, learning again the shape of his body and how the dense smooth pectoral muscle curved and sloped beneath her palm. God, he was beautiful. And without his shirt, his skin would feel so good against hers. She loved the way his bare chest felt against her bare breasts, loved the friction and the heat and the delicious, addictive energy—

“Can’t do this,” she choked, shaking her head. “We can’t, we can’t.”

“Ssshh,” he murmured, cupping her face, his thumbs stroking lightly over her cheekbones, sweeping from the curve of the bone to her earlobes. “Nothing bad will happen—”

“Everything bad will happen,” she protested, shivering with pleasure from the caress. She loved the way he touched her. He made her feel beautiful, inside and out, and she struggled to remember what bad things would happen if he touched her….

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, hands slipping from her face to tangle in her hair.

“And mad, Drakon, certifiably insane—”

“That’s okay.”

“Drakon, I’m serious!”

“I am, too.” His head dipped lower and his lips brushed hers, lightly, slowly, and she shuddered, pressed closer, a stinging sensation behind her eyes. One kiss … could it be so bad? One kiss … surely she could be forgiven that?

His lips found hers again and the kiss was surprisingly gentle, the pressure of his mouth just enough to tease her, send shivers of desire racing up and down her spine. This was all so impossible. They couldn’t do this, couldn’t give in to this, it’s all they had and while the chemistry was intense, chemistry wasn’t enough. Sex wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed a relationship, love, intimacy, commitment, but right now, she also needed this.

She’d missed him so much. Missed his skin and his scent, his warmth and his strength, and her defenses caved as his hands framed her face, and he held her face to his, deepening the kiss, drinking her in.

She could feel him and smell him and taste him now and she was lost. Nothing felt better than this. Nothing felt better than him. He wasn’t just her husband, he was home and happiness—