Page 8 of Never Feed a Dragon

“You hate spaghetti, E.” I wasn’t sure when I’d started calling him E. Eli was fine. E just rolled off the tongue. I think I’d been trying to annoy him the first time I used it, but it just fit him so well that it slipped out sometimes.

“I call you Spaghetti because you get all fiery when you talk about it. It’s sexy. It’s not an insult.”

“Sure it isn’t.”

He pulled me closer, pressing my hip against his erection.

The thickness of it had me sucking in a breath.

I hadn’t realized he was attracted to me too.

“Does it feel like I hate you?”

“Lust and hatred can coexist, so I don’t know.”

“If I hated you, I wouldn’t be dancing with you. Or taking you back to my place after this party is over.”

“We’re going to my place,” I corrected.

“Deal.”

I relaxed a little.

Only a little.

“But sex is a pretty good motivator, E. Wanting to have sex with me doesn’t mean you can’t hate me. Neither does dancing.”

“I’ll prove it when we’re alone,” he promised. “And I’ll show you why you don’t need to hate me.”

I rolled my eyes.

But when he stepped to the right, pulling me with him, it felt too good to stop.

So, I played along.

two

VI

Eli didn’t let go of me for more than a few seconds through the last hour of the party.

Or as we sent off the bride and groom, and I wiped away a few escaping tears.

Or as we made our way out to the parking lot.

Or as we walked to my car.

He knew which one it was. I wasn’t sure if I should find that weird or alarming.

“Do you have your truck here?” I asked him, as I sat down in the driver’s seat. He held the door for me.

“Yep. I’ll come back for it.” He closed my door behind me.

Going back for it wasn’t a big deal when you had wings.

But that meant?—

He sat down in my passenger seat and buckled up. The smooth way he moved cut off whatever I’d been thinking. “Ready?”

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