“Tempting, but here we are undressed,” Bee said, releasing his genitals, but now doing a little shimmying move against his body that was almost as bad. “Don’t you want me, Constantine?”

“More than anything else I can think of,” he said in absolute honesty.

“Good, because I want you to take me here. Right now. In the shower, where we’re warm and steamy and wet, and I can slide against you.”

He opened his mouth to tell her how much he liked her making demands of him, but nothing came out other than a little whimper of sheer sexual desire.

Bee smiled, damn her arousing self, and slid her hands around behind him until her fingers dug into the heavy muscles of his ass. “I suppose I should ask you about this. Some men like—”

“No,” he interrupted and, wrapping his hands around the backs of her thighs, he hoisted her up. “But I know you like this.”

“Glorious goddess, yes!” Bee gasped and writhed against him when, pressing her against the wall, he released her legs and allowed his fingers to find her sensitive flesh. “Oh, yes, yes, that, do that again. No, not the pinching thing, the swirly bit with your thumb.”

He smiled a wicked smile, one full of manly intent, when she closed her eyes in bliss, her wet hair streaming down those delicious breasts that bobbed so enticingly in front of him. He wanted to touch them and taste them, to taste all of her, but he couldn’t release her to do that. Her fingers dug deep into his shoulders as he dipped two fingers inside her, enjoying the feel of her intimate muscles clenching around them.

“I want a turn,” she panted, her eyes open again. He was lost in the green-gray depths of them, warmed by the emotion he saw in there, feeling almost invincible. “I want a turn to make you insane with pleasure. No, I take it back, I want you to do that again. Hrm!”

She almost purred when he rubbed his erection along her woman parts, her legs wrapping around his waist as she tugged on his hair and demanded, “Fire! Or wait, can you do that in the water?”

“I can do anything,” he swore, and proceeded to set her alight. His dragon fire licked up between them as he tilted her hips and slid into her, groaning with the sensation of her heat even as she moaned his name.

Her hands moved down his back, dragging her nails in a manner that was not painful, but stirred him on to more vigorous motions. He pressed her against the shower wall, mindless of the water now, needing only to give her the pleasure that he knew would spill over onto him. She kneaded the muscles of his ass even as he set up a rhythm that had them both struggling for breath, his fire burning around them despite the water.

“I hope… you aren’t… going to be long,” he panted, trying to keep from just plunging wildly into her, as he wanted to do. “I’m not going to last much—Bee!”

“Sorry. My hand slipped. I didn’t mean to encroach on unfriendly territory. And if you keep doing that little lunge to the left, I won’t last either.”

He lunged. She squealed in happiness. Her hand slipped again, but this time he didn’t care. She bit his shoulder as she shuddered into a climax around him, making a thousand little muscles inside her tighten on him in a manner guaranteed to push him past all control. He lunged forward three times, then gave himself up to the joy that was Bee.

And when his legs gave out from the strain of holding her up, combined with an orgasm the likes of which left him feeling as weak as a newborn kitten, he managed to get them out of the shower and onto a soft, welcoming bathmat before he collapsed entirely.

It could have been a few minutes later, or it might have been an hour. For all Constantine knew, eons might have passed before he managed to recover.

“The bathroom is on fire,” Bee said, not sounding in the least bit concerned.

He cracked open one eye and turned his head to look at her. She lay rosy, wet, and flushed with the satisfaction of a woman well loved, lying on her back on the thick oatmeal-colored bathmat. He, being a naturally chivalrous man, had let her have the rug while he made do with his discarded clothing.

“The room is not on fire. My dragon fire does not get away from me like that. I am fully in control of it at all times. It is a fact I have long prided myself—”

He stopped when she pointed at something behind him.

He looked. He pursed his lips. He considered her. “I blame you. You distracted me with your ladyplant and your breasts and your mouth that I want to kiss over and over and over again. Even now, I want to kiss you, and I am so exhausted by your demands for loving in the odious shower that I cannot even stand, let alone think, or work my mouth enough to do all the kissing.”

She giggled when he waved a hand and tamped down on the fire that had, in fact, escaped him. “You have the best pillow talk. I want to kiss you, too.” She rolled over and slid herself on top of him, cradling his head in her hands as she leaned down and bit his lower lip. “I like your mouth a lot, you know. I like all of you a lot. You have nice legs. And thighs. And your chest is gorgeous, although I feel bad about the curse scarring it. And your butt! I could write odes to your butt.”

He raised an eyebrow, and tolerated her kissing him, letting her twine her tongue around his, tasting him even as he tasted her. That lasted for about three seconds before he couldn’t stand it any longer, and taking her hips in his hands, he slid her up so that she could torment him more effectively.

“You are a sublime kisser,” she said after some minutes, snuggling her face into the crook of his neck. “Even without the fire, although I like it when you do that, too. Why is it your fire doesn’t hurt me, and the other dragon I dated had fire that did?”

“He was clearly inferior. What sept was he from?”

“He had a red dragon parent and a blue dragon parent. Does that make him purple?”

He drew little circles of fire along her back. “No. It means he belonged to one of the two septs. Neither of which is as superior as my silver dragons.”

Bee was silent for a moment, then lifted her head and, resting her elbow on his shoulder, leaned her chin onto her palm. “But they aren’t your silver dragons any more, are they? Do you miss being a wyvern?”

“Yes,” he said without thinking, then paused, frowning. “No. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I enjoy the freedom from responsibility. Other times I miss the camaraderie, the sense of belonging. I miss having someone to protect.”