Dragon Villain: Enemies to Lovers Paranormal Romance (Dragon Mafia Family Book 4) by Sansa Moon

Author:Sansa Moon [Moon, Sansa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8 - Kira

He parted her lips with his, tongue teasing hers into play before she barely knew what she was doing. Except her body knew. Her hands knew, dragging themselves over the drenched fabric of his shirt, feeling him beneath her palms. An ache started, for his hands on her. All of her. She reached up, about to push his hands down to where the ache was building into a low, throbbing need when her brain caught up.

She pulled out of the kiss, his fingers hovering by her chin, his eyes hooded with desire.

Seeing it there made her step close again.

Get the gun.

But she wanted his mouth…

The gun.

His hands…

The kiss was even deeper, bordering on desperate. Her focus was shattering. She’d never experienced anything like it. This type of desire was reserved for others. She hadn’t met a man who could rouse it in her.

Until now.

Her whole body had tendrils of pleasure already running through it, making her feel as though she would drive herself mad if she didn’t give into every impulse to touch him, taste him, breathe him in.

Unfortunately, she was too logical to let it run away with her, and once her roving hands touched cold metal at the small of his back, she didn’t hesitate, grabbing the gun and yanking it free.

She backed away from him, arm outstretched, gun pointed at his chest.

He held his hands up, eyes wide, taken aback.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not going back.”

“Kira,” he said, tone full of sorrow she thought was directed more at himself than at her. It should be. He’d done this. He’d forced her hand. They could have…

It didn’t matter what they could have.

She backed away from him, toward the car, eyes on his as the sheet of rain obscured him from view. A grey veil of water between them. He wasn’t going to follow her. He was lowering his hands in defeat, the expression on his face regretful.

Good.

He should be fucking regretful.

His touch was still fresh on her skin. Tendrils were still running through her, maddening, cajoling.

But she had to do this.

She had to get away.

She reached the driver’s seat door. The seat was getting soaked by the rain, she noted absently, fumbling for the door handle. Her eyes were still on the outline of him, the sensation of his fingertips like a whispered memory along her neck. She was trembling, her body resisting her mind in the cruelest of ways.

She had to leave.

She stopped groping for the car door handle, leaning for a moment against the car, gathering her thoughts, her impressions, since they were running away with her. Tugging her heart along for the ride.

Fuck.

She couldn’t keep a smile down, incredulous at the irony of the moment.

Then she drew her arm back and threw the gun into the underbrush of the forest. It disappeared from sight even before it hit the ground, swallowed by the rain.

She got herself moving, approaching him, reaching him as she said with a smile to match his, “I fucking hate guns.

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