I Thought I Hated Him

His progress down the stairs was swift, economical, and catlike; I watched him approach furtively out of the corner of my eye, trying valiantly to maintain an outward appearance of aloof disregard.

Daniel unfurled the plans on the desk beside me and handed me one of the mugs. It was Earl Grey tea and the aroma was amazing. I eyed the offering warily. "It's not laced with strychnine is it?"

Daniel's laugh was genuine, almost warm, although his expression held the familiar antagonism. "Just drink it," he grumbled.

I took a tentative sip. Earl Grey, two sugars and a splash of milk, just the way I like it. In fact, it was the best cup of tea I'd had in ages.

I glanced down at the plans Daniel had spread out beside me; they were preliminary working drawings, decidedly rough but composed of strong, definite lines. I recognized Daniel's handwriting, tidier than I'd seen of late. The plans were only rough, but there was a breathtaking simplicity to the lines that amazed me.

"You drew these?" I asked in awe, tracing one dark pencil line with a pale finger. "They're good."

"Of course they are," Daniel drawled; his eyes were on me, not the plans. "What do you think I do around here all day?" His tone was mocking but held a faintly teasing note.

For all the work I'd put into the project over the past three weeks, I hadn't even considered that Daniel was doing the same.

"Are we ready for Mrs. Kendall tomorrow?" I asked weakly, half afraid of Daniel's answer. I knew instinctively that he wouldn't lie and I wanted desperately to hear him say something positive. One look at his drawings had me feeling very amateurish; he had been right, I was indeed a tiny, little fish swimming in a very big pond.

Daniel leaned over me, rifling through the sketches spread across my drafting table. To me they seemed suddenly like silly fluff; idealized doodles of the building as it might once have been, and more embarrassingly, a few drawings of my personal vision for the restoration. I'd even added colour and faint outlines of landscaping where it seemed appropriate.

My intention had been to make the project goals easy for Mrs. Kendall to grasp, and Maddock had seemed amenable that afternoon when he'd seen them. So why couldn't I help feeling that it was the Dragon's opinion which mattered most?

"This is fairly good," Daniel pulled a sketch of the rear elevation of the house to the top of the pile and smoothed it down carefully with his large hands. I watched the process wordlessly, feeling an unexpected warmth in my belly; whether it was from his almost complement or his closeness, I couldn't be sure.

I only half-heard his dissertation on gables and dormers; I'd never seen the truly professional side of Daniel Sutcliffe, and I had to grudgingly admit that it was impressive. He certainly knew his stuff; but it was the warm stirring of his breath in my hair and the strong length of his arm bracing his weight against the drafting table beside me that had me thinking.

I closed my eyes and leaned away from him, taking another series of deep, calming breaths. This was Daniel freaking Sutcliffe I was getting hot and bothered by, for crying out loud; the man who had me shaking with fear one moment and then calling him childish names the next. I didn't even like the guy, so what the hell was wrong with me?

Daniel stopped speaking mid-sentence and I opened my eyes to find him watching me warily.

"You alright?" He asked stiffly, while something akin to concern flashing in his grey-blue eyes.

"Yeah," I mumbled softly, averting my gaze, afraid those silver eyes of his could see right through me. "Just tired."

"No wonder," Daniel snapped, the old familiar edge in his voice. "You've worked yourself up over this project for nothing."

I opened my mouth to defend myself but Daniel's hard glare shut me up.

"Look Clara, I've seen a million clients like Mrs. Kendall; she bitch and make demands and have you jumping through hoops if you'll let her, but in the end she'll agree to whatever we've proposed." There was a hint of distain in his voice, but for once it wasn't directed at me. "They're all the same."

"The ignorant masses, huh?" I teased, intrigued by this little peak into the Dragon's mind.

"I don't really care that they don't know shit about architecture," Daniel growled, "at least this biddy is trying to do something good; I hate when they bulldoze significant buildings for more parking spaces."

I smiled, more to myself than him. How many times had I thought the very same thing?

"Um, Daniel? About this afternoon..." I didn't know what to say, wasn't really sure just what I was sorry for.

"Don't disappoint me by apologizing now," the Dragon snarled, an almost teasing glint in his eye. "I was just starting to think you had a backbone."

Surprisingly, I laughed. "I wasn't going to apologize for what Isaid. But the other thing..." I trailed off blushing.

Daniel stared down at me, his solid chest resting against my shoulder, the heat of him going right through me. He smirked. In true Dragon fashion, he wasn't going to make it easy for me. His steel blue eyes darted down to my lips and I had to fight to keep from smiling.

Slowly his gaze wandered back to meet my own; there was a challenging glint in his eye that both irked and intrigued me. He knew damn well the effect he had on me, the only consolation to my wounded pride was knowing it wasn't a one-sided attraction.

"Daniel, I think we should talk about..."

"Oh shut up, Clara," Daniel growled, and just as I was about to argue again he leaned in and kissed me: hard.

Skilful and intense; that was my first impression as Daniel took without asking. I had a brief, fleeting of idea of resisting until his hand came to rest gently on the back of my neck; the gesture was so un-Daniel-like that I gasped, and masterfully Daniel took advantage, slowing the kiss down, drawing the moment out until I was leaning heavily against him, dizzy with desire.

Daniel's tongue was questing and inquisitive; learning the corners of my mouth with practiced flair; drawing adroitly from me noises I didn't know I was capable of making. Tentatively I reached up to wrap my hand around the solid anchor of his arm and was rewarded with a deep growl of pleasure from the Dragon.

For a time it seemed like kissing Daniel was the only thing in the world; the only noise the rough rhythm of our breathing into one another, the only taste the faint flavour of tea in his mouth, the only sensation the hot slide of our lips and tongues against each other.

This is the Dragon!My mind screamed over and over, a litany of protest when I had no willpower to move.What the hell are you doing?But my body betrayed my common sense greedily, hungry for the possibility Daniel was offering.

'Offering' perhaps wasn't the right word; Daniel's technique was a more mercenary, 'take-no-prisoners' method which was new to me; it was a little like standing on the edge of a tall cliff: thrilling and terrifying at turns. I'd never experienced anything like it and it left me feeling very young and naïve.

Unexpectedly, Daniel became more frantic, kissing me harder, making my head swim. There was only one question to ask.

I broke the kiss reluctantly, watching warily as Daniel's silver eyes came back into focus, a faint flicker of hesitation disappeared before I could be sure I'd really seen it.

"Daniel, I..."

He held up a hand of warning, silencing me. "Clara," his voice was a deep, raspy growl. "For once, please don't say anything." There was a scowl on his handsome face which somehow seemed less fearsome now.

I reached up to trace the furrow between Daniel's eyebrows as he frowned and I smiled up into his eyes softly. "Your place or mine?"

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