Instead, she looked pissed.
He lowered the book. “I don’t understand. You hate romance, but you read books like this in secret? Why bother to hide them?”
She grabbed it back, and he let her. She huffed and scooted back against the headboard. “I lied, okay?” she said, pushing her hair back behind her ears. “I don’t hate romance. I just gave up on the idea of it a long time ago. But I suppose I don’t want anyone to know about it.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that the only romance I get is in books!” she shouted, looking embarrassed.
He sat by her on the bed, keeping his posture friendly and relaxed. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s probably my kind of book.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Well, the abs resemble my own, and then there is the fact that I’m a hopeless romantic. Unashamedly so, unlike you.”
“Yeah, well, you were born beautiful. You can have anyone you want.”
“So can you,” he said.
“Yeah right,” she retorted. “As if.”
“You’re beautiful, too,” he said. “You just hide it.” He hesitated. “May I touch you?”
She nodded slowly, and he reached for the top button of her cardigan and undid it. Soft, creamy skin was revealed, making him suck in his breath. He undid another button, then another, and realized to his delight that she was wearing a formfitting camisole underneath that outlined her curves.
Luscious boobs, soft, rounded waist.
His mouth watered.
He set her cardigan back in place and scooted a bit back from her. Then he reached for her hair, pulling it out of the ponytail and letting it fall around her shoulders, moving it into place with his hands, loosening the tight curls.
“There,” he said. “Beautiful.”
She gaped at him for a moment, then grabbed her cardigan, pulling it together. “Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying to you,” he said.
“There’s a limit,” she snapped, trying to gather her hair back into a ponytail, twisting it in her hands. “I know you’re paid to make me feel better, but—”
He leaned forward, kissing her, stopping her words. It was different than the fair this time. He was showing his feelings for her, and his tongue urged her soft lips open before diving inside. She moaned a little and let him, losing herself for a few seconds before grunting and pushing him back.
She was breathing more heavily as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “I…”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I keep touching you without asking.”
“I keep… letting you and not minding,” she said. “It’s weird.”
He laughed and sat back on the bed. “I don’t think it’s weird at all. I’m hot.”
She swatted him. “You.”
“Banishing me to the floor already?” he asked with puppy dog eyes.
She looked a little guilty but nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “Since I got a kiss, we’ll call it even.”
He started to make up his bed, weirdly pleased by how the day had gone.
He wanted to read her mind, as all dragons could. See what she was thinking, but he knew it wasn’t right. Sometimes he heard thoughts by accident, but other than that, he didn’t try.
Oh well. Her kiss told him enough for now. When the lights were off and he was tucked in, he found himself drifting off to sleep more easily than he had in a long time.
Ella heard Dante’s soft snores in the darkness and smiled to herself.
Her body was still unbelievably hot from his kiss, from the sincerity of his words when he complimented her.
It was like something from her books, but she’d be stupid to believe it was real, right?
He’d defended her that day, too, and it’d been hard not to fall for him. He was so hilarious at times, like when he’d surprised himself by almost destroying that game booth at the fair or when he said he’d like to read romance.
He was winning her over much faster than she’d ever thought possible.
As the house was dark and quiet, she decided to get up for a glass of water, hoping it would help her cool down.
She quietly wrapped a fluffy robe around her already modest pajamas and stepped softly over the floor to the room.
For a second, she had a thought of what Dante’s response would be if she dared to wear more revealing pajamas. Maybe even something a little bit silky.
But then dark thoughts clouded her mind, reminding her why she didn’t trust romance. Or men.
They had pretty words when they wanted something, but they wouldn’t hesitate to cut you down.
She stepped out onto the stairs and shut the door behind her, looking around.