Page 41 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

I adjust the vase once.

Then again.

The dragon is insufferably pleased with himself.

Dinner is considerably harder to justify.

Food after a session is normal. We keep fruit, tea, bread, and enough other things on hand that nobody has to leave hungry. Cooking Margot an entire meal because I remembered what she likes is something else entirely.

I know this, but I still spend an hour in the kitchen.

By six thirty, everything is upstairs and staying warm, and I've set the small table near the windows for two. I stand there with a cloth napkin in my hand, looking at the second place setting.

This has gone well beyond soup, and I find I no longer care.

I leave the napkin where it is.

Margot knocks at seven.

I open the door and forget, briefly, how conversation works.

She's wearing a green dress.

I've only ever seen her in the clothes she arrives in after work or whatever she's thrown on for a Saturday afternoon session. Tonight she's wearing a dress, the soft fabric fitted at her waist before falling around her legs, and her hair is loose over her shoulders. There's something different about her makeup too, though I couldn't begin to identify what. I only know she looks like she spent time getting ready.

Then her scent reaches me.

Her usual shampoo is there, but beneath it is something warmer I haven't smelled on her before. Perfume.

My dragon surges forward with enough enthusiasm that heat rushes into my body.

Margot's mouth curves.

"You look beautiful." My voice comes out rougher than intended, and a thin curl of smoke follows the words.

"Hello to you too."

I give her a look, but there's no hiding the smoke already disappearing above my head. Her eyes immediately flick upward, following it.

I close my mouth.

Margot looks back at me, clearly curious, but the smile tugging at her lips suggests she finds the whole thing more amusing than alarming.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing."

That smile says otherwise.

I decide not to give her the opportunity to investigate.

"Come in, Angel."

Her expression changes at the name, the teasing fading into something softer as a flush touches her cheeks.

Margot steps past me, and when I take her hand, her fingers close around mine without hesitation. I shut the door behind her.

I take my time undressing her, partly because I know she likes the anticipation and partly because tonight I need the discipline of going slowly. I ease the green dress from her shoulders and let my hands follow it down, stopping whenever I feel her tense so I can draw her attention back to me. By the time the dress reaches the floor, she's smiling, the last of whatever she carried in with her already beginning to loosen.