Page 54 of Dragon’s Ending

God, this felt almost dangerously right. Ben in my bed, in my arms, sleep-warm and solid against me like he belonged there. My historian.

He snorted suddenly, and woke up, eyes blinking confusedly at me for a moment. Then I must have come into focus, because he muttered something. Could have been Morning. Could have been Ugh, why are we awake so early?

“I’m sorry, what was that? Didn’t quite catch it through your sleepy grumbles.”

“Sod off,” he said, and kissed my shoulder before putting his head back down and closing his eyes once more. “I don’t do mornings.”

“Hmmn.” I moved just enough so my morning wood poked into his thigh. “So what do you do?”

This time, when he raised his head, his eyes were much more alert. “You don’t play fair,” he said, but he didn’t sound like that was a complaint exactly.

And by the time I’d put him on his back and reacquainted myself with every part of him—because I didn’t think I’d ever stop wanting to hear the noises I wrenched out of him simply with my hands and my mouth—he was more than ready for my mouth on his cock.

After he’d recovered from coming and then brought me off in turn, paying such careful attention to my reactions that something deep inside me simply gave up and melted, I realised the downside to my plan. Using sex to wake him up wasn’t going to work if he rolled over the way he just had, sleepy, sated and happy, and closed his eyes again.

I poked him. With my finger this time. I’d come so hard it’d be a while before anything else was up for poking. “Don’t you want to solve that discrepancy between the family records and the court case?”

He rolled over, and glared at me. “You do not play fair,” he grumbled again, but I could see his brain was coming online, determination firming his jaw even as his eyes grew more alert. “Damn it, how’m I supposed to sleep now?”

“You’re not,” I pointed out. “There’s this thing called daytime.”

I rolled out of bed, and he followed, yawning all the way. I chucked my towelling robe at him, and pulled on some boxers. Highly unlikely anyone would be in this part of the house—the only other rooms on this landing were a bathroom, the records room, and a door to the back stairs—but I didn’t want to give Glenys an eyeful if she decided today was upper-landing dusting day.

He hesitated when I opened the door. “I should go down to my room and get some clean clothes,” he said, sounding reluctant.

“Shower with me, then get them,” I said. And because, no matter what Rhodri thought, I was capable of learning from experience, I added, “I mean, maybe not try that showering together together thing again, but we can take turns.”

He grinned, and happily followed me to the bathroom. It was ridiculous how little I wanted to be away from him, even if there would only be a floor of the house between us.

He showered first while I shaved, then when he was done, I kissed him before he went on his way in search of clean clothes. He was still wearing my robe, and I liked that fact.

We’d missed breakfast by some margin, so once dressed, I wandered down to the kitchen. Ben was already there, listening to the latest instalment in Glenys’s wedding drama as he watched the toaster, sipping coffee.

Glenys looked up as I came in, her posture straightening slightly in the way it always did around Rhodri and, by extension, me.

“Morning, sir,” she said.

“Morning, Glenys.” I crossed straight to the coffee machine, needing my caffeine fix. “How many disasters are we up to with this wedding now?”

“Oh, don’t start,” she said darkly, though she was visibly delighted by the question. “Now the florist says the roses might be a problem, and Cheryl’s future mother-in-law says carnations are tacky, which I think is rich coming from a dragon who once insulted someone else’s treasure.”

Ben made a strangled sound into his coffee cup that might have been an attempt not to laugh.

I leaned against the counter beside him, and gave him a shoulder bump that somehow turned into me pressing into him.

Glenys’s eyes rested on us for a moment. She probably thought I’d simply enticed the attractive historian upstairs for a bit of entertainment. Which, in fairness, wasn’t an unreasonable assumption given my previous life choices.

Rhi walked out of the pantry and into the brief silence, carrying a tray of eggs. Then she noticed the way I—well, for some reason, I still seemed to be pressed against Ben’s side. And he wasn’t moving away. Instead, he was leaning into me.

Her entire face went scarlet. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

Before either of us could say anything, she dumped the eggs on the table and fled out of the back door.

Ben straightened and stared after her in worry. “Is she okay?”

Glenys calmly rescued the abandoned tray of eggs from where they were threatening to fall off the table. “Well,” she said, “that’s one teenage fantasy dead and buried.”

The toaster popped violently beside us, making Ben jump slightly. He muttered something under his breath and reached for the butter.