They kept walking for another fifteen minutes until they made it to the small town she'd been promised. Braeden kept telling her with gleaming eyes about a cat shifter who served handmade ice cream—the best she'd ever taste, or so he claimed.
But before they could even reach the promised ice cream parlor, Alyx was distracted by a sign swaying gently in the wind above her. It had bunny ears and said: Bunny’s Boutique.
“Look at that shirt!” Alyx pressed her face to the window where a gorgeous, silken shirt had caught her attention.
The shirt was red and gold—colors that went well with her hair. And she loved the feeling of silk against her body. Not that she was able to afford lots of silk designer shirts, but if there was one perk to writing about the fashion industry, it was that she often came home with a shirt or a dress or two after a fashion show.
One of the reasons she'd been hot on the trend of curvy couture.
By now, she knew a lot of people in the industry. Which meant that she got to be among the first to report on the latest trends. And she also got to help out the poor designers who didn't want to drag home suitcase after suitcase of their latest models after a fashion show...
“Silk,” Braeden said, interrupting her thoughts. “I like silk.”
She turned and raised a brow at him, impressed despite herself. “You've got a good eye.”
“I'm a dragon, remember? We're good with treasure.”
He grinned at her, and she found herself laughing in response.
“I guess your ancestors kidnapped a lot of princesses who only dressed in silk and velvet.”
“I wouldn't know,” he said, sounding affronted. “I've never kidnapped a princess in my life.”
“Just kidding.” She couldn't stop smiling at him. Walking with him through this lovely and utterly normal little shifter town felt like the best thing that had ever happened to her.
So much better than fire dragon lairs.
“I only rescue princesses,” he murmured.
There was a hint of roughness in his voi
ce, and he leaned closer. Alyx's heart immediately began speeding up, her body remembering the sensation of his heated skin against hers, the way he'd made her feel utterly alive and utterly treasured.
“Joke's on you,” she whispered. “I'm not a princess.”
Then their lips met, and for a moment, she completely forgot where she was as his strong arms wrapped around her body.
Warmth filled her from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. It was like inhaling fire—only this was a fire that wasn't scary.
It didn't destroy.
Instead, it made her burn, her entire body yearning to be closer to him. If she opened herself to him completely...
She could see the golden light again. Like a thin thread, it hung between them.
It vibrated with her need and desire—and through it, she could feel the intensity of Braeden's own desire for her, wave after wave of his need rushing in like wildfire.
She'd always thought herself a shrewd, experienced player of the dating game. She'd done the dating apps, the matchmaking websites, the speed dating.
There just weren't many men who were willing to put up with the fact that she'd invested a lot of hard work and time into her career. She wasn't going to give up on it, not for anyone. Even if it meant that there would be limited time for a boyfriend.
Still, every now and then, when she woke up on a Sunday morning and spent a lazy hour or two preparing an elaborate brunch for herself, with eggs just the way she liked them, she missed someone to share that morning with.
Someone who'd go to see a movie with her, the rare evening she had time for that, and who'd hold hands when it got too scary.
Someone who wouldn't complain when she got home late from work, but who'd use the time they had together for a shared bath, with soft, relaxing music and a glass of wine.
Maybe even someone who'd take out silken blindfolds afterward.