Excerpt: My Wild Irish Dragon by Ashlyn Chase [Giveaway]

Chloe couldn’t believe Rory and Amber were playing matchmaker. They knew full well there would be no long-term lover in her future. She avoided heartbreak by avoiding short-term relationships in the present.

But Ryan said he needed to know where she lived, so she’d take him to her brother’s stoop and never mention she lived next door. At least he wouldn’t show up at paranormal central.

It was bad enough that her brother and his intended were supernatural beings, but at least they knew enough to keep that to themselves. Chloe had seen her neighbors assume everyone entering the paranormal club on the second floor had to be supernatural whether they knew it was true or not.

So far, they hadn’t been wrong, but if they saw Ryan and assumed… Well, a mistake like that would be awkward to say the least.

When they arrived at Rory and Amber’s Beacon Street brownstone she turned and said,

“Well, here it is…”

He looked up and whistled. “What a beautiful building. I understand why you enjoyed your time renovating it.”

“How do you know I enjoyed it?”

He smiled at her. “By the nostalgic look in your eyes when you talk about the work you did, and the sadness in your voice when you say it’s finished.”

She stared at the sidewalk and nodded. “To be sure.”

He tipped her chin up. “Your brother and Amber must have been grateful for your help and proud of the work you did.”

“They are, but heck, I’m proud of meself.”

He was quiet. Too quiet. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. I just…” He took a deep breath. “I know we don’t know each other very well—yet.”

He smiled. “But I really, really want to kiss you right now.”

“Oh.” Chloe wanted to kiss him too. In fact, just how badly she wanted to kiss him surprised her.

He wrapped his strong arms around her and it felt safe—right. Instead of giving him verbal permission, she leaned in, closed her eyes, and tipped up her face. In less than a second, their lips collided. He pulled her against his chest and she slipped her arms around his neck.

She had no idea how long they stood there on the sidewalk, kissing. His mouth moved over hers with purpose. Eventually, she parted her lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss. He pulled her closer and cupped the back of her head. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she swirled her tongue with his. He tasted like cinnamon.

“Hey, get a room,” a passerby joked.

He didn’t end the kiss and she was glad. Kissing him was different than she had thought it would be. It was then that she realized she had fantasized about kissing him—and that his real kisses could become addictive.