Page 20

I hold the door open for him. He walks through it and closes it without saying a word. For a few seconds, he just stares at me. His horns reflect the moonlight, and his jaw is held tight. I can see the fight in his eyes. The way he’s debating whether this is a sane idea or not while hardly being able to hold back.

At least, that’s how I feel. I imagine it’s the same for him.

I arch an eyebrow, as if to ask him what he’s waiting for. He clenches his hands into fists, then picks me up and kisses me hard.

His hands squeeze my ass as he carries me to the kitchen counter. The abandoned pan from earlier is still sitting on the stove. Guess we fled the place earlier for nothing, because this is definitely happening.

Otis sets me on the counter without breaking the kiss. He lets out a primal groan as I slide my hand up his neck and through his hair to the base of his horn.

Good. I want to drive him as crazy as he drives me.

His hands tighten around my ass. Kissing a minotaur is exhilarating, sure, but this isn’t just some monster. This is Otis, the man who never asked to be transformed, but has somehow found a way to live with it. The man I’ve spent the last week with, sharing looks and the occasional morning coffee.

The man who’s stealing my heart.

I tug at his shirt, and he pulls it over his head and drops it on the floor. I’ve seen him shirtless before, but this time, I don’t have to pretend I’m not staring. I take my time looking at him, from the dark fur covering parts of his chest to the muscles underneath.

I hook my legs around his waist. Even through his jeans and underwear, I can tell he’s rock hard for me. The realization makes me wetter than I’ve ever been, and I’m not even naked yet.

Otis takes his sweet time lifting my shirt. I tilt my head back and gasp. The fabric of my shirt is bunched up in his hands. Fuck, I want him to just rip it off, but he keeps going slow. His fingers trace a slow path up my stomach, over my bra, and along my neck before he finally pulls the shirt over my head.

His eyes immediately snap to my stomach. He places his hands on either side of my belly button and dips his head. I moan as he slides his thick, wet tongue over my skin.

“You smell like lavender,” he mutters.

“I thought you hated that.”

He shakes his head. “Fuck, Romy, I only said that because every time you showered and I had to be in the bathroom after, all I could think about was you.”

“Really?”

He scoffs. “Do you have any idea how many times I had to let off steam because your scent drove me nuts? And I’m not just talking about your soap. Damn, I’ve masturbated more times since you moved in than in the last few years combined.”

My eyes widen at his revelation. He’s not even hiding it. He’s telling me plain and simple how he came while thinking about me.

I close my eyes and whimper because, fuck, if that isn’t the sexiest thing a man has ever said to me.

He reaches behind my back and unclasps my bra, then slides it off my arms before tossing it on the floor. His eyes zero in on my hard nipples. I arch my back to show off my tits. I’m not usually this brazen, but he stirs something in me I’ve never felt before.

He sweeps his tongue over his lips. The hunger in his eyes is undeniable.

“Please,” I say.

He slips his thumbs into my mouth, then draws them out and presses them against my nipples, circling them without taking his eyes off me.

He grins when I moan. “You like that, Romy?”

I bite my lip and nod.

“Good. You’re so perfect. So sexy, Romy. I’m going to make you scream my name and ride my dick until you come. How does that sound?”

Think? As if I have any thoughts or words left in me right now.

“Uh-huh. Yes, yes,” I pant.

“All I want to know, Romy, is if I make you just as wet as you make me hard.”

I nod.