Page 17 of Monster Mate

His eyes dropped to her mouth so quickly she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention. But since he had her complete focus, she didn’t miss it.

He wanted to kiss her.

The question was, did she want him to kiss her?

She shouldn’t. It’d be a lot easier to maintain the whole just friends thing if she kept her tongue off him.

But they’d passed “easier” the moment he pulled her (and Winston and Waldo) out of that fire.

The muscles in his neck were tense. So was his jaw. He was holding back, she realized. Respecting her wishes. Letting her control everything. He’d never kiss her first. It was a matter of honor.

Well, screw honor.

Roxie reached up, grabbed him by the horns (which, if that wasn’t a metaphor for what she needed to do with her life, she didn’t know what was), dragged his mouth down to her level, and smashed her lips against his.

She’d never imagined his lips would be that soft. And so warm! Just the thought of those soft, pillowy, warm lips trailing down the length of her body made her shiver.

He was also being respectful. Gentle. Even though the looks he’d been giving her were hot enough to singe her clothes off, he was still holding back, probably for fear of scaring her.

Well, screw that, too.

Roxie ran her fingers down the length of his horns and slipped them into his hair. He growled when she gave it sharp tug, and she took that opportunity to slide her tongue into his mouth.

Holy hell, he tasted amazing. If she could taste only one thing for the rest of her life, she’d choose him.

He tasted like minty toothpaste, a hint of smoke, and…hunger. That’s what it was. He tasted hungry. Almost as hungry as she felt.

He must have felt her growing desperation, because he gripped her waist and slid her closer, pressing his hips into hers, and…

Fuuuccckkk.

She’d read lots of historical romance novels over the years, and she’d always laughed when the virginal heroine would ponder whether the rogue hero’s huge, monstrous cock would fit in her tiny, untried vagina. As if vaginas weren’t built to stretch and accommodate pushing out a whole human being. It was hilarious to think a single cock wouldn’t fit easily in any vagina.

Now she was having second thoughts. Because the erection that was currently pressing into her…wow.

Lube. Lots of lube would be necessary to make that work.

And she was totally up for the challenge.

Kiss drunk. That’s what she was. Because she didn’t even care that there was a knob from the cabinet digging into her spine, a pancake was smoking in the pan, or that the smoke detectors were probably going to go off at any minute. None of it mattered.

There was only Riordan.

A growl of pure longing and frustration ripped its way out of his throat as her tongue slid over his. He shifted his hands from her waist up to thread through her hair, and she couldn’t hold back a growl of her own as his talons scraped lightly over her scalp.

He pulled back just enough to nip at her bottom lip before asking, “Are you wet for me, my queen?”

You have no fucking idea.

She was very proud of herself for managing to find words. “Only one way to find out,” she challenged.

She assumed he’d let go of her hair to slip his fingers into the loose waistband of her borrowed sweats. But he didn’t. He left one hand fisted in her hair and let the other slide down to cup her breast. She gasped into his mouth when his thumb brushed gently over her nipple, which was hard enough to cut glass at this point.

That’s when the unimaginable happened.

He slipped his tail—his tail—into her sweats.

Jesus H. Christ on a purple pony, in all the time she’d spent with Riordan, she’d never once imagined what he could do for her while both of his hands and his tongue were occupied. Because when the tip of his soft, warm tail expertly moved against her slick flesh and unerringly circled over her clit, she was shocked. The gasp/moan combo she let out could probably be heard in neighboring counties.

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