He kissed her stomach, flicked his tongue into her navel, and she dug her hands into his hair as he unzipped her jeans.
“I have more…questions,” he warned her. “Will you give me answers, or must I continue your interrogation with kisses?”
She could have sworn she heard playfulness in his tone, but it didn’t make sense. He should want to kill her for her deception. He had no reason to trust her, and she was a danger to him. So why was he kissing her when he should have been wanting to kill her? Weren’t dragons supposed to be ruthless? Maybe the synthetic pheromones she’d taken from the Brotherhood lab were keeping his temper down and his arousal up.
“I will answer,” she insisted and then gasped as he tugged her boots off her feet, then began to pull her pants down. God, his pheromones re
