Page 46 of Nine-Tenths

"Right." Before he can retreat, I hook our pinkie fingers together. Dav glances at our hands, startled, then back up to my face. Confidence slides into his posture. "It's a short walk."

He doesn't let go of my pinkie, not even when I need to pause to lock up, not until we're seated side by side at the table, the tips of our shoes brushing in the shadows where no one else can see.

Our waiter at Twenty Wine Bar turns out to be one of Beanevolence’s regulars. So when she recommends the gnocchi and some perfectly crisp Pinot Grigio, I trust her. I wrote my thesis on sustainable winemaking, and Dav has a vineyard, so when he asks if I'd like to hear about his own Pinot crop, I say yes. I spend dinner watching Dav come alive with pride about his vines, and his people. It’s pretty fucking charming.

"Of course, the wine from my land is only for my table," he says. "Or my staff. I give them cases for the holidays."

"'For your table'." I put finger quotes around it. "Hoity-toity winemaker and his private reserve."

Dav’s ears go delicately pink. "I'm only a winemaker because there's little else to do, and the crop is ideal for what arable land I have to call my own."

I don't like hearing Dav talk about what he's not allowed to do. Since I can't fix it, I ask him to order dessert. The raspberry cheesecake arrives with two spoons and an unexpected chocolate sauce swizzle on the plate.

"I'll send it back," Dav says.

I've had enough wine to feel like throwing caution to the wind, and frankly, I'm still keyed up over the fact that Ishouldhave had an allergic episode and haven't.

"Colin!" Dav hisses when I swipe my finger through the sauce and pop it in my mouth. I'm not going for sensual, though I realize as soon as I lick my finger that maybe I should have.

Do you have to seduce someone when they're already a sure thing? I guess it's only polite to put in some effort. Too late now.

I don'tlikethe taste of chocolate. It reminds me of too many hours spent heaving until there's nothing left to come up but thin, frothy bile. But this goes down smoothly. There's nothing.

Nothing.

"Shit," I say softly. "This is weird."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah? I just don't knowwhy."

I have the sudden fear of a delayed reaction, of puking on Dav's shoes as he moves in for a goodnight kiss, and regret testing myself. We finish the cheesecake together, and I pick around the chocolate, deciding that I’ve tempted fate enough for today.

The conversation about food allergies and my Mum's advice takes us through to the bottom of a second bottle of wine, and I am more than tipsy enough to lean heavily on Dav as he walks me home.

"Do dragons get drunk?" I ask, watching my footing on the uneven sidewalk.

"Of course," Dav says, bending in closer to my ear to whisper. "But not on so little."

I snort at the thought of Dav sitting at the table in the fancy Italian Bistro drinking wine out of the bottle with a crazy straw.

Dav favors me with an indulgent smile that I want to taste. He paid, too, and wouldn't let me leave anything but our tip, and only when I argued that it's not fair to the power balance of our relationship if he's going to be the one handling all the expenses. He's pouting now, actuallypouting.

I want to bite his lip.

"C'mon, man." I butt his shoulder with my forehead and give him my best Bambi-eyes. "Stop moping."

"I understand your concerns," Dav protests. He's taller than me, but only by enough for my eyes to be exactly level with his mouth. He licks his lips and a hot thread of desire unspools from the base of my neck, curling into my pelvis. "But Colin, please. I am wealthy, with little to do but to figuratively sit upon it. I am happy to stimulate the local economy. And, of course, it's satisfying."

"Feeding me all day is satisfying?"

Does he mean sexually?

It'd be weird if he meant sexually, right?

That should be a turn off, a red flag, potentially a sign of a controlling partner.

Unless it's kinky?