Should she, or shouldn’t she?

Should she, or shouldn’t she?

If she waited much longer it would be a moot point.

“Draco, wait.”

The blond heaved a sigh of discontent. “I thought this was what you wanted. You’re the one who showed up at my flat.”

Time for damage control. “I appreciate how patient you’ve been about this. I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”

He reached up to rake his hand through his platinum blond hair.

Of course it fell right back into place.

“I don’t understand why this is such a huge issue,” he complained. “You’re twenty-four. It’s not like you still live at home and your parents can ground you.”

“This is a big deal,” she huffed. “It’s not something you just do without thinking of the consequences.”

The blond reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. “We’ve been seeing each other for over a year. It’s not like I’m some stranger you met in a pub.”

He was right. She knew he was right. This whole situation just didn’t feel right. She struggled to come up with a way to explain how she felt. “This is...serious. It’s taking our relationship to a whole new level.”

Draco stood and went to the sideboard to pour himself a scotch. “As I said, you showed up here. I did not come knocking down your door.”

Prat.

She studied him as he drowned his frustrations in the amber liquid. He was heartbreakingly beautiful. He hated when she said that. Men were supposed to be called handsome. But she’d always found him almost pretty. If she ever told him that he’d probably have a coronary.

Perhaps she was just being immature. She should count herself lucky that he wanted to be with her. He could have any woman he wanted. Self-doubt set in.

“Maybe there’s something wrong with me,” she muttered.

Draco smirked. “I can list your faults if you like. You’re a Weasley. You have freckles-”

She launched a throw pillow at his head.

He caught it with ease. “Come on. It was a little funny.”

The image of a twelve-year-old Draco sneering at her came to mind. She blinked. “Maybe that’s it.”

He came and sat beside her on the black leather couch. “Care to share with those of us who do not have access to the inner workings of your mind?”

“Maybe, I’m afraid to take this step because I’m scared you’ll revert back to your old obnoxious ways.”

The corners of his mouth turned down. “I was a child influenced by my father’s hatred. Since then I’ve learned to think on my own.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against her neck. “I’ve decided I like you,” he whispered against her skin.

All her nerve endings went on high alert as a shiver ran down her spine.

Maybe talking was over-rated.

She pulled his face up to hers and kissed him fiercely. Heat flowed through her body.

This was right.

She made her decision.

Moving her mouth away from his, she said, “Come to dinner at my Mum’s tonight. I’m ready to tell my family about you.”