Page 49 of Rescued By The Dragon

My cell phone beeped from the floor where I had it tucked into my dress. Reaching out, I grabbed it and read Sasha’s text.

Sasha: Girl ... you’re the talk of the damn ball. This is a real-life Bridgerton episode. Text me later. Don't get pregnant.

I chuckled and tossed the phone back onto my gown. Standing back up, I caught movement in the mirror and made eye contact with Dorran.

I wrapped my arm around my boobs. As embarrassed as I was, I couldn’t look away from him. His gaze slowly lowered, and his throat moved as he swallowed.

And as quickly as he appeared, he shut the door and I heard his heavy footsteps down the hallway. Did he not like what he saw? I nibbled on my lip while finishing my shower.

I almost felt too scared to leave the bathroom once I was finished. Slipping into his boxer briefs and a t-shirt, I dried my hair until it was only damp, and stepped out into the hallway.

The smell of food wafted toward me, and my stomach growled.

The living room was vacant, and the balcony looked empty. “Dorran?” I said into the silence.

“You’re a little tease, aren’t you Amara?”

I yelped at his closeness and turned to face him, the back of the sectional keeping me upright. His eyes were dark, his dragon making himself known. “What?”

He placed his palms on either side of me, and his gaze lingered over my face. “You wanted me to see you?”

The courage I pulled from my ass was unexpected. “Yes,” I whispered.

Dorran chuckled, trailing his fingertips against my neck and down the curve of my breast. “How about we eat, and then spend some time outside? The view is amazing.”

He backed away from me, offered me his hand, and led me toward the kitchen. My lack of experience had my body shivering, my legs wobbly, and my heart racing. Knowing he could sense it all meant that the smile on his face was aimed at my nerves.

I liked that he was in control.

Cool and collected.

I just wish I didn’t feel like my heart was in my throat.

Dorran grabbed my hips and sat me down on the barstool. “I hope you’re hungry. I made garlic parmesan chicken. I hope you love it.”

“I’m sure I will,” I said inhaling the goodness.

Dorran slid me a plate and took a seat across from me. He watched as I took a bite, and bit back my moan. God, he can cook, too? What kind of parallel universe have I fallen into?

“This is good,” I said, smiling over a bite. “I didn’t realize you cooked.”

“Glendora taught me,” he said. “I tried to stay away from my mother as much as I could growing up, and I found myself watching Glendora cook to stay out of trouble.”

“You don’t like your mother?”

He spun his fork around his pasta and slid his tongue across his teeth. “I love my mother because she’s my mother, but I don’t like her most days. She’s very overpowering, snooty, and always ready to toss someone under the bus for our family to look a specific way. It’s annoying.”

“I understand the annoying mother role, though mine doesn’t consider me her child.”

Dorran reached toward a bottle of wine sitting on the bar next to him and poured us each a glass. “Too annoying. Your stepmother doesn't know what she's missing,” he said.

I eyed the wine, my tongue snaking out against my bottom lip. “Does wine make you nervous, too?” he asked with the same smug smile.

I took it and inhaled the strong scent. “I’ve never drunk it. Well, I had a sip of alcohol on the bridge with Sasha, but it wasn’t wine. I’ve never been drunk.”

Dorran froze with his glass inches from his mouth. “Never?”

I lifted the rim of the glass to my lips and watched him as I took a sip. The liquid was strong and fruity and left a distinct taste in my mouth. “Never,” I said.

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