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My gaze drops to his mouth. I suspect he’ll pull away like he did at the Fall Celebration, but he pulls me against his body instead.

He lowers his head toward me, and my heart hammers in my chest.

His mouth lands on mine, and I grab his shirt with my free hand. Otis keeps one arm tight around my waist while my back bumps against the counter.

I kiss him back, still half-convinced I’m imagining this after spending the past week wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled away at the festival.

When my fingers brush his horn again, he makes a primal sound.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe,” I say with a grin.

“You’re trouble, Romy. Delicious trouble.”

He slides his hands beneath my butt and lifts me onto the counter, bringing my mouth closer to his before kissing me again.

His hand moves to my thigh, and I forget all about the dinner he was making until something sizzles loudly behind him.

“Shit, the steaks,” he says, releasing me.

He grabs the pan from the stove and frowns. “I hope you also like takeout pizza. Dinner’s officially ruined.”

Chapter Eight

Otis

I open the kitchen drawer and move a stack of papers around, even though I know damn well the takeaway menu is underneath them. I shouldn’t lie to Romy, but if we spend another minute alone in this cottage, I don’t think I’ll be able to contain myself.

I slam the drawer shut and pretend to check another, even though it contains nothing but dish towels.

“Can’t find it?” Romy asks.

“No.”

“Do they have online ordering?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure. Let’s just go there. The Howling Crust’s a great place to eat.”

“Okay. Give me five minutes to freshen up,” Romy says before disappearing upstairs into the bathroom.

I run a hand over my face. I’m in deep. When Romy showed up at this place, I was mostly annoyed by her. Sure, she was a bumbling ray of sunshine and also extremely gorgeous, but she wanted me out of the cottage I’d called home for years.

Over the past week, I’ve grown so fond of her that I’ve been holed up in my shed whenever I’m not working. Avoiding her seemed easier, but I don’t know if I can resist any longer.

When Romy’s back downstairs, we head outside, and I hand her a helmet. She climbs onto the bike behind me, and I wait until she’s settled before starting the engine. The second her arms wrap around my waist, I realize I may not have thought this plan through. Her body presses against my back as she moves closer, and I close my eyes for a second to get my bearings.

Getting out of the cottage was supposed to make keeping my hands off her easier, not harder. But with her arms wrapped around me, I’m not complaining.

I grit my teeth as we come across a curve in the road, and her grip around me tightens. I’m playing with fire here. After my transformation and my ex leaving, I swore to myself I’d never let anyone get this close again. I’d never let someone treat me badly because I looked different or give them the chance to break my heart like that.

But things feel different with Romy. For starters, she’s only ever known me as a minotaur—the enormous guy with the furry arms and the cream-colored horns. And she seems to like what she sees. There’s no disgust in her eyes. Hell, sometimes she looks at me like she wants to devour me.

I park my bike outside The Howling Crust and wait for Romy to climb off before I do the same. She takes off her helmet and shakes out her hair, then tries to fix it with her fingers.

“Is it terrible?” she asks with a frown.

“Your hair’s fine.”