Firedrake - By Bianca D'Arc Page 0,14

drew her into his arms.

Drake counseled himself to slowness, but his body wanted nothing more than to ravish her. But that wouldn’t do. This woman was a warrior, a Guardswoman. She deserved respect. He’d never had a problem controlling himself with women in the past, but Krysta was different. From almost the moment he’d seen her, she’d called to him in a basic, yet complex, way. He wanted her. On many different levels. But he’d deal with the physical first.

She was fire in his arms, soft, womanly and full of spirit as she returned his kiss fully and eagerly. Drake pressed further, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, learning her taste and feel, delighting in the soft whimper that sounded in her throat as he swept his hands down her body, gripping the soft globes of her perfect ass and pulling her against his hardness.

Krysta moved into him as if she’d been made for him, but this had to stop. They were in the middle of a public street and people were waiting for them both to get on with their work. Drake drew back, little by little, though it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He was breathing hard, just from her kiss, and his cock was as hard as a pike.

The woman packed a punch in more than one way. Drake was gratified to see the sleepy, sensuous look in her eyes as he moved back. She swayed a bit as he held her upright and a grin split his mouth. She was as affected as he was. That was something at least.

“Tell me your knight makes you feel like that and I’ll leave you in peace.”

Her eyes cleared abruptly, and she pulled away.

“I can’t tell you that because he hasn’t kissed me yet.”

Drake didn’t like that “yet”. If he had his way, the unknown knight would never get a chance to kiss her at all.

“Have lunch with me tomorrow.”

“I can’t. I made a promise to Sir Mace.”

“Mace?” Drake cursed inwardly. He should have known. Any woman he found attractive just had to be spoken for by his childhood friend and rival. And it figured the bastard was a knight now, to boot.

“You know him?”

Drake paced away a bit, trying to hold his tongue. “I knew him as a child. We grew up together.”

“Why do I get the idea you weren’t friends?”

She saw too clearly, but he didn’t want to leave her with the wrong impression. Drake sighed. “We were friends, but I did resent him. Mace was always so perfect, so predictably warrior-like. My father held him up as an example to me more than once and I grew to hate the phrase, ‘Why can’t you be more like Mace?’”

“Oh, that’s awful.” Krysta placed her hand on his arm, and Drake’s spirits lifted a bit.

“Awful enough that you’ll break your date with him and have lunch with me instead?” He waggled his eyebrows with a teasing grin though he knew her answer already.

Krysta chuckled. “It wouldn’t be right. But—” Drake sensed an opening, but waited to hear what she’d propose. “I suppose I could have dinner with you. I’m not working tomorrow. It’s my weekly day off.”

Drake cursed fate once more. “I’m promised to my parents for dinner tomorrow night and I can’t postpone again. I haven’t eaten in their home in fifteen years and this promises to be a rather…difficult occasion, or I’d invite you to join us. Hell…” he ran an impatient hand through his shoulder-length hair, “…I’d love for you to come just to act as a buffer between me and them, but that’s the coward’s way out.” He sighed. “I may be many things, but never a coward.”

She smiled and the look in her pretty eyes was kind. “I’ve heard that about you, Drake, and I respect your reasoning. Perhaps another time.”

“When?” He pounced verbally as she turned to go once more. “How about breakfast the day after tomorrow? Before you have to be at work.”

She laughed as she moved off down the dimly lit street. “If you’re up at dawn, meet me at Pritchard’s Inn on the High Road in Castleton. All right?”

Drake whistled through his teeth as he watched her walk off. “It’s a date, sweetheart. You can count on it.”

“I won’t hold my breath, but if you do show up, I won’t throw you out either.”

Drake watched her walk away, enjoying the sway of her hips and remembering the feel of her generous curves in his

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