No. No, no, no. Couldn’t think that way, couldn’t lose sight of reality. He wasn’t home or happiness. And he’d finally agreed to let her go. After five years of wanting out, and she did want out, she was free.

And yet when his tongue stroked the seam of her lips, she arched and gasped, opening her mouth to him. Drakon deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking the inside of her lip, making every little nerve dance. One of his hands slid from the back of her head, down over her shoulders to her waist before settling in the small of her spine, urging her closer, shaping her against his powerful body.

She shuddered with pleasure as his tongue filled her mouth and the fingers of his hand splayed wider on her back, making her lower belly throb, ache, just like her thighs ached.

Every thrust of his tongue shot another bright arc of sensation through her, sensation that surged to the tips of her breasts, tightening them into hard, sensitive peaks, and then deep into her belly and even deeper to her innermost place, and yet it wasn’t enough, not even close. Morgan dug her nails into his shoulders, pressing her breasts to his chest, practically grinding herself against his hips to feel the ridge of his erection rub against her sensitive spot at the junction of her thighs and the heat of his palm against her lower back.

It was still so electric between them, still fierce and wild, and she felt overwhelmed by desire, overwhelmed by the memory of such dizzying, maddening pleasure and the knowledge that he was here, and there could be more. And right now, she wanted more. She literally ached for him and could feel her body soften and warm for him, her body also clearly remembering that nothing in the world felt better than him in her. Him with her.

And then his hand was slipping slowly across the curve of her hip, to cup the roundness of her butt, and she nearly popped out of her skin. “Drakon,” she groaned against his mouth, feeling as if he were spreading fire through her, fire and such fierce, consuming need.

She trembled as he stroked the length of her, from her hip to her breast and down again. His hands were everywhere now, pinching a nipple, stroking the cleft of her buttocks, shaping her thighs. She wanted his hand between her thighs, wanted him to touch her, fill her, wanted him more than she’d wanted anything—

Wait.

Wait.

She struggled to focus, clear her head, which was impossible with Drakon’s amazing hands on her body and his mouth taking hers, promising her endless pleasure.

She had to move back, away, had to, now.

But then his hands were up, under her tunic, his skin so warm against hers, and when he unhooked her bra to cup her breasts, his thumbs grazing her tight, swollen nipples, she gave up resisting, gave up thinking and gave in to him.