The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

His hand moved from her jaw to cup the back of her head, his fingers threading through her dark hair, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss even further. He tasted the lingering bitterness of the potion mixed with her own unique flavor....fever-warm and intoxicating and absolutely perfect.

The kiss seemed to stretch endlessly, both of them lost in the sensation of it.

When he finally pulled away, it was only slightly, just enough to allow her to breathe, just enough to prevent himself from completely overwhelming her.

His breathing was heavy, almost labored, and his dark eyes were burning with an intensity that made the fever-hazed girl beneath him feel like the only thing that mattered in the entire world.

Thorne’s hand moved from the back of her head, and his fingers began to trace the delicate line of her lips....lips that were slightly swollen from his kiss.

His touch was gentle, almost reverent, but his dark eyes told a different story.

They told the story of a man barely maintaining control. Of a predator who had finally caught his prey and was barely restraining himself from claiming her completely.

He looked down at the clothes she was still wearing, the same day dress from earlier, now damp with sweat, clinging to her fevered skin, revealing the outline of her body beneath the fabric.

And his body responded.

Immediately and intensely.

His cock hardened against the inside of his pants, responding to the sight of her.

Thorne cursed, a vicious, low word that carried all his frustration and all his hunger.

He looked down at the hardness between his legs, seeing the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against the fabric of his pants, and he cursed again.

But then he looked back at Morgana’s face....at her fevered beauty, at the way she was looking at him with something that was part confusion, part desire, and his jaw clenched.

He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not when she was this fevered, this vulnerable, this dependent on him for her care.

But gods, he wanted to.

His hand traced her lips again, his fingers following the curve of her mouth, and the simple contact made another curse slip from his lips.

Then his eyes moved downward, taking in her body, taking in the clothes that needed to come off, taking in the necessity of the cold water that the Physician had mentioned.

Cold water. Right. That was what she needed.

His hand moved from her lips to the rope of her dress.

His fingers found the knot, and he began to work at loosening it, his movements deliberate, his breathing still heavy, his entire body vibrating with the effort of maintaining control while his hunger screamed at him to abandon all pretense of care and simply claim her completely.

The rope came loose.

Morgana’s dress shifted, and Thorne caught his first real glimpse of what lay beneath...the pale curve of her shoulder, the delicate line of her collarbone, and more importantly, the swell of her breasts beneath the thin fabric of her undergarments.

His breath caught.

His hand stilled for just a moment as he took in the sight of her, as he absorbed the reality of what was about to happen. Her skin was still flushed with fever, still burning with the internal heat that was driving his need to care for her and his absolute inability to stop touching her.

Thorne swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

His cock responded immediately to the sight of her, pressing even more insistently against the inside of his pants, demanding attention, demanding release, demanding that he stop this slow undressing and simply take her.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he forced himself to continue, forced himself to maintain the careful control that was costing him everything. His dark eyes burned as he reached for the ties of her undergarments, and with deliberate slowness, he began to unfasten them.

One tie came loose.

Then another.

The fabric of her dress fell away, and now he could see the full curve of her breasts....the pale, perfect rounds of them, the rosy nipples that were already hardening in response to the cool air of his chambers and to his intense gaze.

Morgana made a small sound....not quite a protest, not quite acknowledgment. Her fevered mind was struggling to catch up with what was happening, struggling to understand why her clothes were being removed.

Thorne didn’t give her time to fully process.

He continued his work, peeling the remaining fabric away from her body. Her undergarments fell away, and then her dress was gone completely, discarded to the side of the bed.

And Morgana lay before him completely naked.

The sight of her was almost enough to break him.

She was small, delicate, beautiful in a way that made something primal roar to life inside his chest. Her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing, her nipples dark and hardened, her skin flushed and fever-warm and absolutely perfect. Her dark hair was spread across his black pillows like spilled ink, contrasting with her pale skin, and between her legs, he could see the dark shadow of her curls, the hidden place that he was desperate to touch, to taste, to claim completely.

Thorne’s hand moved to his own pants, and for just a moment, he gripped the fabric, considering simply removing them, considering simply taking her right here on his bed, fever be damned, physician’s orders be damned, everything else be damned.

But the physician’s words echoed in his mind.

Cold water. She needed cold water to break the fever. And he had promised himself, had sworn to himself, that he would care for her first, that he would make sure she was okay before he allowed his hunger to completely consume him.

Even if it was killing him to wait.

Thorne bent down, and his lips found hers again, and he kissed her with all the desperation, all the hunger, all the careful control that he was maintaining by the thinnest of threads. His hand came up, and his fingers gently cupped one of her breasts, feeling the weight of it in his palm.

He pulled back from the kiss just slightly, and his dark eyes fixed on the hardened nipple of the breast he was holding. He began to play with it, using his thumb to circle the sensitized peak, watching as it hardened even further in response to his touch.

Then, unable to resist any longer, he bent down.

His mouth closed around her nipple, and he began to suck.