Page 61 of Destined By Dragonblood
I smiled, my face hot.
Dolyn’s gaze dipped to my mouth but lifted as a waiter approached.
I drank in Dolyn’s profile as he spoke in perfect…French. My insides swooned. Sweat dampened my palms, and I leaned the slightest bit closer to him, breathing in the scent of campfire and cedar.
Our gazes met and held as the waiter moved off. Dolyn reached over the table, palm facing up.
I slid my fingertips over his, my heart thundering in my chest as tingles raced clear up my arm, spreading through every limb in my body before settling between my thighs.
His gaze darkened as though aware of what his touch did to me.
Breathing deeply, I filled my lungs, held it there for a brief moment, and slowly leaked it past my lips. “I spoke with Elijah.”
Dolyn didn’t flinch.
I threaded our hands together, and he gently squeezed. “I believe you,” I murmured.
Tension I hadn’t realized had kept him rigid eased from his body, slumping his shoulders. Wetness coated his golden eyes, but his smile was glorious, brighter than any sunshine shooting rays through the clouds.
This gorgeous man—not man—belonged to me, and what a glorious future we would enjoy at each other’s sides.
Tears stung my eyes, and I gave him a watery smile of my own.
“He convinced you.” Dolyn’s ragged voice hadn’t sounded a question, but I shook my head.
“His explanations helped settle my mind, but my heart already knew the truth of who you are to me.”
Dolyn lifted my hand and brushed his soft lips over my knuckles. “And who might that be?”
“Mine.” My insides purred like a happy kitten. “But there is so much to learn, Dolyn?—”
The waiter appeared with a bottle of wine, and Dolyn and I sat back, hands in our laps as the middle-aged man made a show of opening and allowing Dolyn to taste the offering before trickling a small amount in each of our glasses.
Once he was gone, Dolyn lifted his wine, and I did the same. “To new beginnings.”
We clinked at his toast, and I sipped, the red wine dry and heady. No way in hell I would be drinking more than a single glass of whatever this stuff was. “Tell me your greatest fault,” I demanded.
Dolyn blinked, then stared.
“What?” I smiled, leaning forward and wishing there wasn’t a table between us. “Haven’t you ever played fifty questions to get to know someone better?”
A haze slid over his eyes briefly, and he shook his head, focusing clearly on me. “Never with someone as lovely as you.”
Flushing, I coated my tongue with the rich wine.
“I am stubborn beyond what is healthy. Selfish and needy to a fault.” His blunt honesty surprised me, but the descriptors did not.
“I appreciate your determination and how much you crave my attention,” I said as he swirled the small bit of liquid in his glass.
“You have no idea.” His stare turned molten enough my panties almost burst into flame.
I shifted on my chair, and he chuckled, setting his wine aside.
“Tell me yours,” he murmured, once more reaching for my hand.
I gladly gave him ownership of all five fingers, shivering over how he caressed my skin with his thumb. “My greatest fault has been believing that trusting people ends in hurt.”
“A fear that your past dictated to be truth.”
