Page 45 of Fated to the Grumpy Dragon
I hated the confidence in him. As if he wasn’t going to be affected. Of course he wasn’t. He was a man. All he was thinkingabout right now was probably what to say that would get him in my pants. Finishing what that impossibly hot kiss had started.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, waving him off with my free hand then using it to cup the bottom of my mug as I took a sip.
The last vestiges of the sun disappeared behind the horizon as I watched, staring out at it, instead of at Rhyse, who was watching my intently.
“We’re going to talk about it,” he said a bit more firmly after some time had passed. “Youneedto talk about it, Emma. You’ve been avoiding so much. You need to let it out.”
The casual arrogance was too much for me this time. “Me? What about you, huh? Why don’t you have to talk about it?”
He frowned. “Me? What good does me talking about your missing memory do?”
“Oh.” I sat back against the couch while, opposite me, Rhyse leaned forward, his eyes watching me closely.
“What did you think I was talking about?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head, stalling by taking another sip of cocoa, slowly this time.
Rhyse snorted softly, letting me know he was fully aware I was lying through my teeth but accepting that I wasn’t going to tell him.
“Your memories, then,” he pushed.
I sighed. Perhaps if I gave into this, it would allow us to avoid the other talk. The one about us kissing.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked.
“I want you to tell me who you are,” he said. “Where did you live? What did you do?”
“Really? That sounds so boring.”
He smiled. “Then bore me. I could use some sleep. But I want you to tell me.”
I inhaled and then exhaled. Again, stalling for time. Why? It was just telling him about some of my life. He wanted to get to know me. Was that really such a bad thing? It shouldn’t be hard.
“Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale.”
“You might be onto something,” I said hoarsely. “This isn’t easy. But it should be.”
“It’s understandable.”
I gave him a questioning look. How was this understandable in any way?
The gentle smile he gave me was a surprisingly effective measure. “You’ve been avoiding talking about your life because you’re afraid. Which is totally normal.”
“Why would I be afraid to talk about my life?”
“Because it’s been the better part of a year. You don’t know if it’s still there. If the people are still there. You don’tknowanything about what happened, and that’s scary. Acknowledging that everything you know might be gone is also scary.”
“More like terrifying,” I said. “But I think you’re right. That feels right.”
It was very insightful for a male. I had to wonder if he’d had help coming up with that explanation from someone.
“We’re not idiots all the time,” he said mulishly. “Just some of the time.”
My cheeks warmed at the soft but firm reprimand. “Noted.”
“Now, tell me. Who are you? What did you do for a living?” He leaned forward. “Let me into your life, Emma.”
I swallowed, trying to ignore the subtle undertones of eagerness in his voice. Normally, I would never have detected it,but the link between us made sure I knew everything. Or most everything, at least, when it came to his emotions. There was still a part of him I couldn’t decipher. Like it was there and affected him butwasn’thim.
