Page 39 of Dragon Detective

However, I’d sleep better knowing he was in the building.

He traced his fingertips down my cheek and neck, stopping only when his hand reached the top of my shirt. “One peep. I mean it.”

I nodded through the shivers his touch drew out of my soul.

He kissed me much too briefly before striding around me and over to stand in the open doorway. “Lock the door behind me. Remember, I’m going outside first. You’ll see me moving around, so don’t be afraid. I’ll call out to let you know when I’m back inside and the place is secure.”

“Thank you again.”

“One peep, Hannah, and I’m burning the world to the ground for you.”

I slept surprisingly well for a woman who’d had seven windows on her first floor broken only the day before.

Waking to sunlight, I stretched and smiled at Max curled up at the foot of my bed. I loved it when he chose to sleep with me.

Sitting up, I stroked his spine and scratched beneath his chin, making his purr ring out.

When I smelled something smokey, I jolted out of the bed.

Max hissed and scrambled toward the door I’d left cracked open, slamming his way through the gap.

I rushed to the door and flung myself out into the hall, my nose lifted to smell.

Nothing.

No, wait . . .There.

I hurried through the foyer and down the hall to the kitchen, shoving open the door. I expected to see the kitchen ablaze, the latest “gift” from the person trying to drive me out of business. Instead, I found Reylor standing with his back to me, facing the stove. He hummed and sashayed his hips.

He’d looked great in tight sweatpants. Even better with my sofa throw knotted around his hips and giving me a lovely peek of the side of his ass.

This guy in shorts, wearing nothing else to cover up his gorgeous muscles and skin, was pure devastation. Like, he could plow my fields and plunder his way through my battlements, and I’d stand on the castle parapet with my arms wide open.

“Coffee?” he asked in a gravelly voice, not turning my way. “I made a full pot.” He nudged his head in that direction.

“I smelled smoke.”

“Sorry about that. I’m heating some of the brisket I smoked last weekend. I tucked some into the freezer but grabbed it yesterday.”

“Brisket?” Who put the time and effort into slow smoking meat?

A dragon shifter, of course.

“Do you smoke it with dragon fire?” I asked.

“That would burn it. While there are some things I adore setting on fire, you for example, I slow cook my meat. I’ve got a great smoker that I control with an app on my phone.”

I tiptoed across the kitchen to the cabinet holding mugs. After taking one out, I filled it with coffee, adding a dash of cream that swirled in pretty patterns.

“Whipped cream?” he asked.

My brain shot to him squirting cream on my body and licking it off. “Excuse me?”

He carefully shut off the stove and moved the pan off the burner before turning to face me. “Whipped cream.” Grabbing the can off the counter, he lifted it. “Some people enjoy it in their coffee. Where would you like me to squirt it, sweetheart?”

I no longer found the endearment patronizing, especially when he said it with that slow drawl that made my bones melt.

“Here.” I lifted my arm and pointed to the back of my hand, daring him to take me up on this.

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