Christmas Griffin - Zoe Chant Page 0,78

self-conscious about being this man’s mate?

“And I’m yours.” Her voice was husky.

He lowered himself over her with the grace of a predatory animal, his lean muscles hardly hinting at his strength. When his skin touched hers, she gasped. He was all heat, all desire and passion and perfect, possessive want.

She opened her legs and he pushed himself inside her. Last time, his brutal pace had left her breathless; this time, her chest was tight with wonder. Every sensation was amplified, from the stretch of his thick length to the whispers of love he breathed into her ear. She angled her hips, welcoming him in, wanting him to fill her completely. When he finally hilted himself completely it was so perfect, she thought she would break apart.

Then he rocked his hips against hers, and she saw stars.

She clenched around him, slowness impossible now, her orgasm a rolling, storm-whipped ocean of peaks that grew higher and higher. Arms outflung, she was barely aware of her cries until Hardwick muffled them with a kiss. She wrapped her legs around his hips so that next time he pulled out she stayed with him, locked in place, her hips lifted off the bed, and when he thrust down again he drove another storm of pleasure through her.

She was limp and exhausted by the time he came, one hand gripping her hip with bruising strength and the other knotted in her hair. He kissed her, pleasure a growl on his lips as his cock pulsed.

“I love you,” she whispered, all other words beyond her.

“And I you.” He raised his head. She sank into his dark eyes, just looking at him. Why not? There was no need for words. She’d already drowned in pleasure, and he knew that she was his. Just like he was hers.

The mate bond suddenly burst into brilliant light. She’d likened it to a sun before; now it was as though she was in the sun, her whole body filled with white-gold light. Hardwick exclaimed in wonder. He pressed his forehead against hers, and the sheer strength of the love that poured through the mate bond into her heart overwhelmed her.

Yes, she thought, yes, like this, forever. This is what I want. She sent that feeling through the mate bond to his heart, too, and his joy was a spring chorus in her soul.

The light faded, but her whole body felt light, as though it was feeling an after-image of the mate bond’s magical power. Hardwick rolled over and gathered her to him.

“Happy Christmas,” he murmured to her.

“The first of many,” she promised him.

And it was the truth.

Epilogue

Delphine

Hardwick dropped a crate on the kitchen table and brushed off his hands. “That’s the last of them.”

Delphine resisted the urge to dust off the rest of him, too. He’d managed to keep his clothes on the first few times he shifted, but they had enough luggage that the last few trips, he either hadn’t managed it or hadn’t bothered.

Hardwick caught her admiring glance and raised one eyebrow.

Why am I resisting the urge? she asked herself and sauntered over to carefully brush quickly melting snowflakes off his broad shoulders.

“Enough to last us through the end of January.” She put her arms around his waist and surveyed the kitchen. There were another half-dozen wooden crates brimming with groceries on the table, not including the perishables she’d already begun storing in the fridge and chest freezer. Hardwick might have been happy living off frozen pizza alone when he tried this the first time, but a girl needed her gooey cheeses, damn it.

The Heartwells had been over the moon when she and Hardwick said they needed a place to stay—and that the old cabin Hardwick had rented for Christmas just wasn’t going to cut it without an emergency roof replacement. Opal and Jasper had pored over their property listings with so much glee that Delphine was left wondering whether the dragon siblings hoarded gold, like all the stories said, or vacation homes.

After ruling out houses that were too close to town, too close to the winter sledding tracks, or otherwise unsuitable for reasons that seemed perfectly clear to the Heartwells but mystified Delphine, they had settled on a rustic one-bedroom cottage that was so far off the beaten track you had to fly in. Hardwick had flown Delphine in first, with the key, and then made as many trips as it took to bring in all their gear.

They’d had plenty of offers of help, of course; every flying shifter