6. Ready for Dinner?

Loriah’s PoV

The rest of my classes dragged like they were meant to torture me. Even music class—my favorite—felt endless. My mind wasn’t on scales or rhythms; it was stuck on Draco. On the way his lips had consumed mine earlier. On the way his voice had broken when he whispered how much he wanted me. Every note I played blurred into daydreams of him.

When the bell rang, I sighed in relief and gathered my books. I was about to slip out when Greg caught me by the arm.

“Loriah,” he said firmly, eyes serious. “I’m telling you this as a friend. Don’t let Draco break your heart.”

I frowned. “Greg, I think I’m old enough to know what I’m doing.”

Before he could answer, Draco appeared like a storm, his presence filling the room. His gaze dropped to Greg’s hand still circling my arm. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. I swore he snarled before he shoved Greg back.

“Don’t you ever dare touch what’s mine,” Draco growled, his voice low and lethal.

Greg straightened, glaring. “What’s yours? Are we living in the eighteenth century, or what?”

“Greg, please,” I begged, stepping between them. “You’re overstepping. If you value our friendship… back off.”

Greg’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he finally turned on his heel and stormed away.

I reached for Draco’s arm, feeling the taut muscles still vibrating with rage. “He’s my friend, Draco. He was just trying to look after me.”

Draco didn’t answer. Instead, he cupped the back of my head with one hand, his other arm winding around my waist, and crushed his mouth to mine. The kiss was wild, possessive, leaving no space for doubt—I was his. My body softened, molding into him, my fingers gripping his shirt to steady myself as heat pooled low in my belly.

When he finally tore his lips from mine, his breath came ragged. He pressed his forehead to mine, inhaling deeply as if trying to ground himself.

“Fuck… your smell is intoxicating.” His voice was hoarse, tortured. “I can’t keep torturing myself like this.”

“Draco…” I whispered, my pulse hammering.

“I’m heading home, little nymph.” His thumb brushed across my swollen lips. “I’ll send a cab for you tonight. I’ll prepare something… special.”

My heart stuttered. Tonight. His words thrummed through me like a secret I wasn’t ready to say aloud.

---

Claire insisted on walking home with me. On the way, she tugged me into the pharmacy, smirking knowingly as she loaded a basket with “essentials.” I flushed, embarrassed, but let her. Then she whisked me to a spa where they scrubbed, waxed, and exfoliated every inch of me.

“I can’t believe this is your first time at a spa,” Claire teased as we left.

“Well, I grew up in an orphanage run by nuns,” I shot back defensively, cheeks flaming. “And I just turned eighteen.”

She only laughed, linking her arm with mine. “Then it’s about time you get treated like a woman.”

By the time I was home, my nerves were buzzing. I slipped into the lilac dress I’d bought on a whim. It hugged me softly, its thin straps making me feel exposed in ways I wasn’t used to. I studied myself in the mirror, brushing a strand of fiery red hair behind my ear.

“I’m definitely going to need extra shifts at the restaurant,” I muttered to myself.

From the kitchen, Claire’s voice called, “I heard Lisandro’s is hiring. Super-rich crowd midtown. You’d make a fortune in tips. You should definitely apply!”

I smiled faintly, not really hearing her. My chest was tight with anticipation, my stomach a storm of butterflies.

The car arrived right on time. But it wasn’t just any cab—it looked more like a sleek, dark security vehicle. The driver, dressed in a sharp suit, stepped out and opened the door for me.

“Miss Loriah?” he asked politely.

I nodded, sliding inside. The leather seats smelled expensive, foreign.

“Would you like the air conditioning on, or the window open?” he asked as he started the engine.

I blinked at his courtesy. “Uh… window, please.”

As the car glided through the streets, I clutched my small purse in my lap. My fingers itched to text Draco, but instead I messaged Brea.

'I'm going to sleep early tonight, I have a test early in the morning.'

I hesitated before hitting send, guilt nibbling at me. Brea would be the voice of reason if she knew where I was going—or what I was about to do. And tonight, I didn’t want reason. I wanted Draco.

The city lights blurred past the window, and my heart raced with every passing second. Tonight, my first kiss wouldn’t be the only first. Tonight, I would give Draco everything.

And I prayed I wouldn’t regret it.

The car finally pulled to a stop in front of Draco’s building. My palms were damp, my pulse uneven as I followed the driver to the door. I almost asked if this was a mistake—surely this wasn’t where a college student like him should live. The sleek, modern building loomed above me, polished and quiet, nothing like the cramped apartments around the university.

When the door opened, my breath hitched.

Draco stood there, his white shirt hanging open his eight pack in full display, damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, water still beading on his collarbone. His black slacks rode low on his hips, no belt in sight. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower, and the sight made my mouth go dry.

The hunger in his eyes matched the ache coiling inside me.

“Smells… delicious,” I managed as I stepped inside, though I wasn’t sure if I meant the food or him.

His apartment was close to campus, yet it felt like a different world. Spacious, three times bigger than my tiny studio, with tall windows that caught the city lights. My chest tightened. He must have a good job, I thought. And he’d been spending money on me so easily… I will tell him he needs to save.

“I cooked something for you,” he said, his voice rougher than usual, like he’d been holding back too long. “I hope you like it.”

I blinked, surprised. “You… cook?”

A small smirk touched his lips as he closed the door behind me. “Only for people special to me.” He stepped closer, close enough that the heat of his damp skin radiated against me. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “And you definitely are.”

Before I could respond, his mouth grazed my neck, his teeth scraping lightly over the sensitive skin as his fingers found the hem of my sweater. My knees trembled as he tugged it off, his kisses trailing lower, leaving a fire in their wake.

I gasped, clutching his shirt for balance, but he only deepened the kiss along my throat. My body melted against his as though I’d been waiting for this moment my entire life.

Whatever he had cooked, it would have to wait.

Dinner wasn’t happening before sex.