Page 63 of Hot for the Dragon

Daphne gave him a look but obeyed, her back to him as he started to wash her shoulders. His hands moved down her arms, the soap slipping over her skin in smooth, languid strokes. She let out a soft sigh, leaning into his touch as he worked his way lower, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine.

"You’re entirely too good at this," she murmured, turning to face him.

He just smiled as his hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer.

The water cascaded over them, and Archer’s lips found hers in a slow, searing kiss that left them both breathless. When they broke apart, he reached for the soap again, his hands moving to her breasts. Daphne’s breath hitched as he washed her, his fingers teasing her nipples until they were hard and sensitive. She arched into his touch, her hands gripping his shoulders for support.

"Archer," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck.

"I need you," she admitted, her voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Gripping her hips, he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back against the tiled wall of the shower. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her breath catching as he positioned himself at her entrance. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear.

He entered her in one smooth motion, his large member filling her completely. Daphne gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate at first. The water pounded around them, but all Archer could focus on was the way she felt around him, the way her body responded to every thrust.

"Archer," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea.

He quickened his pace, his movements becoming harder, faster, more primal. Daphne’s head fell back against the tile, her cries of pleasure mingling with the sound of the shower. Archer’s control slipped, his dragon instincts taking over as he pounded into her, the rhythm of their bodies desperate and unrelenting.

When Daphne came, it was with a cry that echoed through the bathroom, her body trembling as she clung to him. Archer wasn’t far behind, his own release crashing over him. He buried his face in her neck, his breath ragged as he spilled himself deep within her.

For a long moment, they just stayed like that, their bodies still joined, their breaths mingling in the steam-filled air. Finally, Archer gently lowered her to the ground, his hands lingering on her hips as he kissed her forehead.

30

DAPHNE

Daphne stood in her greenhouse, surrounded by the vibrant colors and sweet fragrances of her prized flowers. The morning sunlight streamed through the glass panels. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, savoring the earthy scent of soil mixed with blooming roses and lilies.

"Those orchids aren't going to water themselves," Archer's deep voice came from behind her. "Though knowing you, you'd probably find a way to make them do just that."

She turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, a playful smirk on his face. Wood shavings dusted his shirt, evidence of his morning's work.

"I could," she teased, "but then what would I do with all my free time?"

"Come bother me in my workshop, no doubt." He crossed the greenhouse in three long strides and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Like you did yesterday. And the day before."

"I don't recall hearing any complaints." She reached up and brushed some sawdust from his hair. "Besides, your customers love it when I add flower accents to your pieces."

Through the greenhouse windows, Daphne spotted Mrs. Henderson walking past with her shopping bags. The elderly woman waved cheerfully at them - such a change from a year ago when she'd cross the street to avoid Archer.

"Remember when people used to think you were some kind of monster?" Daphne laughed. "Now they're commissioning custom jewelry boxes and bringing you treats."

"It's entirely your fault." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "You and your annoying ability to see the best in everyone."

The bell above the shop door chimed. Daphne caught the slight tensing in Archer's shoulders - old habits died hard - but he relaxed almost immediately.

"That'll be the Morrison wedding order," she said. "Go on back to your workshop. I know you still need to finish their arbor."

"Demanding woman." But his eyes sparkled with affection as he released her. "Dinner tonight?"

"Only if you promise to actually stop working at a reasonable time today."

"I make no such promises." He headed for the connecting door to his workshop, pausing to look back at her. "But for you, I'll try."

Daphne watched him go, her heart full. Their shared space was everything she'd dreamed of and more - her lush greenhouse flowing seamlessly into his woodworking sanctuary. Together they had created something beautiful in this shop on Belladonna Boulevard.

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