It should have been an easy flight with smooth skies, friendly villagers, and beautiful photos for his book. Something tangible made from the stories his mother told him over and over throughout his childhood. He had created the persona of a legend hunter for his online show, adventuring to exotic places, meeting cool folks and making lifelong memories. This trip was supposed to be that, dedicated to his mom.
She disappeared. He assumed she was dead. He had to. Or else, why wouldn’t she have ever come back?
He swallowed hard, picking up speed.
She wouldn’t have just left him and his dad. She wouldn’t.
One day she told him she had to take a trip to the Bahamas.
The next day his world fell apart.
The incredible relationship he had with his father withered.
At thirteen, he swallowed his grief.
They didn’t speak of her. He’d tried, but gotten nowhere. His father always changed the subject.
So, he locked it away and got on with living.
His father got on with existing.
Jori was determined not to fade like that. He was going to make something of her memory.
After a time, he no longer noticed the sorrow in his father’s eyes. He went his own way. Like his mother always did. He looked on his father’s life as a small confined world, existing on his little campus, surrounded by transient students and emotionally distant colleagues.
He hated that place. He couldn’t breathe from the time he set foot on campus till he could escape again. The regimented life scraped at his psyche. Confinement, authority, suffocation.
He drew air deeper into his lungs, his feet pounded the hot sand.
“Fuck.”
He needed something to do.
There was too much fucking time to think.
Too much time alone.
Disappointment swept through Kymri. Jori wasn’t in his camp. She sighed; he couldn’t be far. The island was small. She just hoped he hadn’t seen her land. Wandering through the beach space he’d made his own, she saw the bedroll was moved into the body of his plane.
Peaking inside, she noticed the book abandoned on the fabric. Picking it up, she leafed through pages and pages of dense notes in tight, neat handwriting, broken with small sketches here and there.
She recognized the shape of a dragon in flight, drawn in miniature. So, he had seen the patrols.
Then there was a sketch of the sky and several constellations.
She smiled at pages of palm trees, the plane and campfire.
Her throat clamped shut as she turned the page.
Sketches of herself. In profile, different angles, focused aspects of her face. The likeness was remarkable. Right down to the placement of her freckles.
The book snapped shut.
Of course, he’d drawn her. He’d already exhausted the other subjects in his vicinity.
It was nothing.
She cracked it open again. She looked awfully sultry in one of the portraits.
Her skin flushed.
She tossed it back on the bedroll and noticed the discarded shirt.
It was faded from the intense sun and sea salt.
She picked it up, bringing it to her nose.
It smelled of sunshine, ocean and him.
Inhaling deeper, her dragon growled, eyes glazing over.
Heat flared through her body from her molten core like a flash of quicksilver.
Her body shook as she exhaled, struggling to control the sudden surge of raw sexual instinct.
Resisting the urge to rub her face on the fabric, she slowly put it beside the book and backed away drawing deep breaths.
Control.
She had to cool down.
Turning toward the ocean, Kymri walked into the water without bothering to remove her clothing.
Dragon goddess! She had never experienced anything like that before.
Soothing water flowed around her, easing the flare.
She sighed, closing her eyes, floating.
She opened her eyes at the sound of panting.
Jori ran into her line of view, his deeply tanned skin glistened over flexing muscles.
Her dragon noticed.
Kymri prayed his scent wouldn’t carry. She swallowed hard, trying to decide what to do; alert him to her presence or maintain her silence and watch?
Despite the distance, he was crystal clear. Every line of muscle. Lean arms, taut abs, strong back. His shorts rode low on his hips.
Her tongue smoothed over her lip, wondering what he tasted like.
He unwound the elastic holding the hair from his face, letting it tumble lose as he turned toward the ocean and froze.
“Kymri?”
She hadn’t realized she was moving toward him until his gaze swept down her body. She could feel the thin cotton plastered to her skin.
His eyes lingered on her breasts, sweeping lower.
“Christ,” he muttered, dragging his eyes back to her face.
She reached for him.
He stared at her parted lips as she moved into him, pressing her ocean cooled body to his. Hands twining around his neck, she pulled his face down to hers and devoured his mouth.
His tongue swept into her mouth as his arms crushed her against him.
She couldn’t get enough, rubbing her hips against his.
He broke the kiss, “Kymri, what’s going on here?” He was still panting. She wasn’t sure if it was from the run or their kissing.
“I-I just wanted to be here with you,” she whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair.
“I’m sweaty.”
“I know.”
He grinned down at her and she melted.
The flare was building again. “I need you.”
His brow lifted.
Her hands slid down his torso to the waist of his shorts.
He stopped breathing as her fingers made contact with the hard steel of his member.
Her dragon purred. Her vision glazed and she closed her eyes to let it pass, her fist tightening around him.
He pressed into her hand; his mouth came down over hers again with a growl.
Releasing him, she struggled to push the restricting shorts off his hips.
He caught her hands. “Whoa, slow down, love,” he exhaled with a shudder, eyes closed. He drew a breath, set his shoulders and leveled his gaze on her face, seeming to drink her in. “Are you sure?”
“Damned sure,” she said, trying to free her hands so they could roam over him. Her heart fluttered when he smiled again. It was crooked and mischievous.
“Give me just a minute. Just a minute, I promise,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest.
He kissed her, releasing her hands, and ran into the surf.
Kymri burned while she watched him bathe in the sea. Without thought, she was walking back into the water to join him.
He laughed. Instead of opening his arms to her, he scooped her up and carried her back toward the beach, setting her down beside the open door of the plane. Reaching in, he grabbed the book and shirt and tossed them onto the pilot seat, then turned his attention to Kymri. Her hands were on him already.
Eyes on her breasts, visible through the cotton shirt, his hands were warm when they eased over her hips, sliding up her waist, dragging the shirt up over her head. His lips met hers, tongues testing each other, then his mouth and hands were on her breasts.
She groaned.
The sensations of his warm, moist mouth, slick tongue, strong hands and soft-scratchy beard across her sensitive flesh stoked the blaze in her.
His hands slid back to her hips, kissing his way lower over her ribs and belly.