When, finally, his arms wrapped around her waist and her head crashed into his chest, she knew with absolute certainty that making a deal with this dragon was perhaps the dumbest thing she’d ever done.

Panting, head slowly beginning to clear, Ragnar realized he had Keita in his arms and a short amount of time to figure out how to keep her there.

The first step, though, was not to let her know that was his intent. If he even showed a hint of making what they had permanent, she’d run off like a startled rabbit.

So he wisely kept his mouth shut and leaned back against the lakeside dirt with Keita held against him. He waited until they could both breathe evenly again before he asked, “Is there any way to get out of the dancing portion of tonight’s dinner?”

She laughed, and he heard the relief in it. Knew she was expecting a litany of praise for what had just happened and promises of commitment for all time. He had no intention of being so obvious. Besides, he never understood the after-sex chatty ones who felt the need to analyze every thrust, gasp, and shudder.

“Not really. But you could try sacrificing your kin while you make your escape.”

“They’ll hate me for that.” He shrugged. “But it might be worth it.” She lifted herself up, resting an elbow on his chest, her chin in her palm. “You can’t dance?”

“I have been taught the skill, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

“You’ll have to at least dance with me.”

“If I must.”

Lips tightening, she punched his arm. “There are males who’d kill for a chance to dance with me, but I’m allowing you the privilege. You should feel honored.”

“Oh, I do.” He rolled over until she was beneath him, his c**k instantly stirring back to life. “We should bathe in the lake before we go back,” he murmured, trying to brush the rest of the dress away from her body. “Might as well do it here.”

“You ruined my dress,” she remarked.

“Hhhm.” Ragnar gripped what was left of the bodice and tore the gown down the middle, giving him complete access to her body.

“You should buy me another.”

“You ruined my leggings,” he replied, pulling his hands away from her long enough to pull his shirt up over his head and toss it off into the grass. “That makes us even.”

“Dammit.” She pressed her hands against his chest and stroked his flesh. Ragnar’s eyes closed, his head falling forward, his c**k more than ready to begin again. “My evil plan for a new dress foiled again.” Her fingers grazed the skin where she’d stabbed him with her tail, and Ragnar shuddered.

“I hurt you that day.”

“You poisoned me.”

“You deserved it. But it has healed, has it not?”

“It has, finally.”

She leaned up, licked the scar. “Good thing I’m so damn forgiving, warlord.”

He caught her shoulders and, with much more force than he ever planned to use, slammed her back into the ground. Keita only smiled.

“I thought we had to bathe and get back to the castle,” she reminded him.

“Later.” His gaze locked with hers, he pinned her arms to the ground and began where he’d left off, thrusting his hard c**k inside her.

Grinning, Keita tossed her head back, her eyes closed, her body meeting his thrusts with her own. “Later works for me. Much later sounds even better.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Izzy dropped the dress, faced her cousin, and both burst out laughing, the puppy she still refused to return to the kennel barking happily.

“I think I’ve outgrown it a bit,” she said.

“Gods, Iz!” Branwen crouched by her and tugged at the bottom. It barely reached her shins. “At least you’ll be able to dance in it.” They laughed harder.

Although Izzy would never admit it to her mother—at least until she was done being good and self-righteously pissed off—she was happy to be home. And it was home. Her home. The one place she’d always be welcome.

“I’ll talk to Keita,” Branwen offered, standing tall.

“How does that help? She’s a tree gnome compared to me.”

“True, but she has an eye. She can track down a dress that’ll make you look bloody stunning in seconds.”

Branwen went to the door, pulled it open, and yelped. “Don’t bloody sneak up on me!”

“I wasn’t.”

Her cousin stepped out, and Izzy’s “uncle” stepped in.

Izzy turned back to the mirror, but kept her head down a bit to get control of her smile. She knew he’d be back. After the way he’d looked at her earlier in the courtyard, she knew it.

“So what do you think?” she asked him once Brannie had left.

Éibhear blinked. “Uh…it’s a bit short.” He scowled at her chest. “And a bit tight.”

She looked down at herself. Her tits were bulging out of the bodice. “I seem to have grown out of it since I last wore it.”

“I haven’t fared much better with my own wardrobe.” He closed the door behind him. “Izzy?”

“Hhmm?”

“I think we should talk.”

This was it! This was it! He’d finally admit how much he’d missed her, and that’s all she needed—at this moment. He could tell her he adored her and wanted her forever and ever, tomorrow…or later in the week. But for now, a simple, “I missed you” or, even better, a simple “I missed you, can’t live without you—by the gods, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known” would do just fine.