First Date with a Dragon
“First dates can be tricky,” he’d said, arching one dark eyebrow, his eyes gleaming behind slightly lowered lids. That look made me think he just may want to dispense with the formalities and fly me off to his place for a night of hot, dragon-shifter sex. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if he did, but resisted the urge to say so.
It’s been a long time since I indulged in the dating dance, and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the steps. I hope he doesn’t see my relief when he suggests we go see a movie. I’m not the kind of woman who dresses up much, and was dreading the thought of a high-end dinner, which would very much be in keeping with his persona, which is suave and serious, with a smouldering undertone I find incredibly sexy.
Instead I dress comfortably in a nice pair of jeans, a silk shirt and boots, throwing a faux-fur-trimmed woolen wrap around my shoulders. The look of appreciation he gives me when I open the door warms me in not-unexpected ways. And it doesn’t hurt he’s dressed just as casually. Damn, I think as he takes my keys to lock the door behind us, his ass looks fine, lovingly cupped in denim! Makes me want to put my palm there, feel the muscles flex.
Oblivious to my lusty thoughts, he takes my hand, making my stomach flutter with a mixture of nerves and arousal. I like the firm clasp, the leashed strength in his fingers, the heat of his slightly rough skin. We make small-talk on the way to the theatre, but as he pulls into a parking space I realize we’ve laughed most of the way. It’s apparent we have similar senses of humor, and that relaxes me. There’s nothing worse than going out with someone you can’t laugh with. And maybe I’m stereotyping, but I wasn’t sure just how much fun this date would be. Did dragons like to laugh? Apparently this one does.
“What would you like to see?”
I watch him perusing the posters as we near the doors. There’s a rom-com, a slapstick comedy, an art film and a spy movie, none of which really appeal to me.
“How about that one?” I point to the poster promoting a martial-arts film. When his eyebrows rise, I arch mine right back. “What? I like kung-fu movies. Don’t you?”
“I do.” He says it slowly, searching my face. “But it surprises me that you do too. I was expecting the romantic comedy, considering your profession.”
“I’m well rounded.” I try to look mysterious, but end up laughing instead, as I pat myself on the butt. “As you can see.”
And we’re still laughing as we go into the theatre.
When the lights go down and he pulls me up against his side, supposedly to make it easier to share the popcorn, I have no objections. He’s firmly muscled, very warm, and smells delicious. I’m hoping he tries to kiss me during the movie, but we get to intermission without it happening, although his hand is rarely still. His fingers touch my hair, my neck, smooth down my arm. And when he bends his head to whisper into my ear, I get goosebumps.
During intermission the theatre thins out, as patrons rush out to buy more snacks or use the restroom. Neither of us want anything more, so we stay where we are.
“There’s something I’ve been dying to do since I picked you up, but I wanted to ask permission before I did it.”
He’s leaning back in his seat, looking as cool as a cucumber, and my irrepressible brain wonders if I’ve had a tag sticking out or a smudge of makeup on my cheek he’s been itching to fix for me.
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Kiss you.” His eyes gleam and his voice drops low, takes on a growly cadence that makes my entire body come to attention. “I want to kiss you.”
I don’t think any man I’ve known before has asked this boldly, and I never realized how much of a turn-on it could be. By asking he’s making sure I’m completely complicit in whatever comes next, and the independent part of me loves it. I’d almost expected him to simply take whatever he wanted, but this is infinitely better.
“I’ve been hoping you would.” My voice sounds a little strained, and I clear my throat. “I want that too.”
And there, in the brightly-lit theatre, uncaring of whoever wants to watch, we kiss for the first time.
Oh, lord, can he kiss! I find myself sinking into it, head spinning, arms winding around his neck, and when I finally get enough energy to pull away it’s not because I want to, but because I’m fast losing control.
“Worth waiting for.” The tip of his tongue touches the center of his lower lip, as though still tasting me. “I want more.”
“Later.” I’m shaking a little, wondering if I’m really ready for a man like this. “Maybe.”
His growl tells me if he has his way it won’t be maybe, but definitely.
The rest of the movie is a blur. He doesn’t try to kiss me again, but I’m too caught up in anticipation to concentrate on anything but the way he feels against me, the movements of his hand, the heat rolling off him.
Will I sleep with him tonight? I’m not sure yet. But as far as first dates go this one is already at the top of my list, and it’s not even finished yet…