10. Bianca #2
“You’re reading about having sex with a dragon. Can people actually fuck dragons? I’m trying to imagine how one would do that, but the visual in my mind isn’t working.”
“They don’t—” I try reaching for the book again.
He doesn’t give it to me.
I stop reaching and give up. “They don’t have sex in dragon form. They shift back to human.”
He stops grinning. He looks at me. He looks at the book. He looks at me.
“Wow. I have learned more about you in the past six seconds than I did in the entire month I have known you.”
“And you’re going to forget all of it. Right now.”
He gives me the book, and I put it back on the couch.
I pull a bottle of red off the rack above the fridge and grab two glasses.
He drops into the chair at my tiny kitchen table, which is built for two normal-sized humans. Not an Ander-sized man. His knees hit the underside.
I sit. He accepts the wine I slide across. I take a slow drink from my own glass.
“So, tell me why your father is trying to destroy me.”
He sets it down very carefully. “Straight to it then.”
I shrug. “You said it’s a wine conversation. I held up my end of the bargain.”
“True.” He takes a drink of wine. “My father is an asshole. You embarrassed our family, and he wants you to suffer because of it. If you get away with making our family look bad, other people will think they can do the same.”
“Has he always been so ruthless?”
His face hardens. “No.”
Instead of asking follow-up questions, I give him the space to share more if he wants to, or to change the subject if he needs to.
He turns the stem of his wine glass once between two fingers. “Our mom died when we were nine.”
My throat goes tight. “Oh, Ander.”
I don’t tell him I’m sorry. I hate it when people tell me they’re sorry when they learn about my mom’s death.
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. Which is a thing people say that I don’t actually think is true. It was a long time ago. But it’s not okay. It still hurts, but I got better at not bringing it up at parties.”
I reach across the table and put my hand over his.
He looks at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it for a second. Then he turns his hand under mine and laces our fingers together, slowly, like he’s checking whether I’ll pull away first.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I want to. It’s weird. I never want to. But I want you to know about her.”
So he does.
He tells me about the years after. About their father, who stopped being a parent the day she died and started being a manager. “He put most of the responsibility on Theo,” he says. “He was only nine, but he was forced to be strong. He still is.”
“Gideon,” he tells me, “just went quiet. Disappeared into his own head and never really came out. Stopped asking questions out loud. He started fixing bad situations before anyone asked him to. Our father praised him for it, which made it worse.”
I squeeze his hand. “That was so much pressure when you were all so young.”
“My brothers are the only people I can depend on.” His thumb runs once across my knuckles. “Loyalty is important in our family. My brothers and I are loyal to each other because we’ve only ever had each other. And we’re loyal to our father, because he’s our blood.”
I nod in understanding.
“Our father wants revenge for you making our family look bad,” he continues. “And we’ve never said no to him. Until now.”
I take a long drink. He holds my hand on the table between our wine glasses.
“I’m sorry for what we put you through. You’re the reason we’re finally saying no to our father,” he says. “I told you downstairs, but I’m telling you again. We’re done coming after you.”
“Thank you.”
“As I said, my brothers are not going to apologize, because they don’t know how. But I promise you, they’re done.”
“Now what?”
The smart answer is that we all go back to forgetting each other exists. My stupid heart doesn’t feel like being smart.
“I came over here to apologize. Nothing else,” he says. “But I’m gonna be honest. I didn’t come here expecting to learn that women read about fucking dragons.” He laughs. “That has changed the entire shape of my night.”
His thumb keeps moving across my knuckles, and I’m pretty sure he has no idea he’s doing it. I’m not about to point it out.
I know I’m supposed to hate all of the Sawyers. But Ander is making it really hard to hate him.
And then there’s the dimple, which pretty much makes him irresistible. I’ve spent a solid month being righteous about these men, and I would very much like to keep at it. Except my heart and several less reputable parts of me have formed a coalition, and I’ve been outvoted.
And then I blurt out, “If you need ideas for the rest of your night, the book is right there.”
His thumb stops moving across my knuckles. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Remember when I told you that if I were flirting with you, you’d know?”
He pushes back from the table, and the chair scrapes. He’s around to my side in two steps. “I remember every word of that conversation.”
“Then I think you have your answer.” I barely get the words out before his hands are at my waist and I’m being lifted clean off the chair like I weigh nothing, which I do not.
My legs wrap around him before I make the decision to do it. His hands settle under my thighs. The dimple is right there, three inches from my face, and the grin attached to it is the cockiest thing I have ever seen.
“Bianca Donovan.”
“Yes, Ander Sawyer.”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Took you long enough.”