Page 59 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

“I have to admit,” I say, squeezing my hand against her hip, “I secretly like it when you lash out in jealousy.”

“What?” Grace stiffens and pulls back to send me a glare. “I’m not—that’s not what I—”

But my smile only stretches, and I shift her so that she’s once more pressed against my chest. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Oh, yeah?” she huffs. “What kind of deal.”

“That tonight, we’ll leave all our preconceptions at the door.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Our exes don’t exist.” I lift my thumb to her cheek once more. “Our past doesn’t exist, and neither does the future. We’re just two stunningly attractive people enjoying an excellent party.”

“Oli…” she chuckles with a roll of her eyes.

“I mean it,” I say, and her gaze connects with mine once more. “I want to enjoy my time with you, without any other motives.”

“But the world still exists,” she says with a scrunch of her brows. “What’s the point of pretending it doesn’t?”

“Tonight, you’ll be my world,” I murmur, before leaning down and touching my lips to hers. “I just want to be here with you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“But, Oli…”

“Please.”

Her fingers slide down along my chest, and suddenly all I want to do is scoop her into my arms and take her away with me. Find somewhere private so I can run my hands and my lips along every inch of her skin, feel the warmth of her body pressed beneath mine, hear her breathy moans as I coax every last drip of pleasure out until she can’t take a moment longer, and then do it all over again… But I refrain. And I wait for her to choose.

She finally blows out a breath and nods, a small smile on her lips. “Alright, Olistaire. For as long as we’re here, it’s just us. We can deal with reality again tomorrow.”

Chapter 23

Grace

“Ladies and gentlemales, beasts and beauties, it is my absolute pleasure to welcome you this evening to our Half-Open Night.”

Olistaire is, unsurprisingly, an absolute natural in front of a crowd. His smile is flawless as he stands on stage before the band with Rho and Malachite at his side and does all the talking with ease.

“As you can probably tell from the way we’ve named our event,” he continues, while I shamelessly devour the sight of him from my seat at his table, “we’re halfway through construction, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t ready to take your money. If anyone would like to host another such event in our gardens, please don’t hesitate to contact me…”

He gets a round of titters from the crowd, before launching into a brief history of how the idea for this lodge came together and what it means to him and to Whispering Pines.

Is it possible for a man to get more attractive when he stands on stage with such confidence and casual charisma? His evening suit is crisp, his horns polished and impressive, and his smile manages to make my stomach flutter even from here, even when he’s talking to nearly one hundred and fifty seated guests under a sparkling night sky.

I’m smitten with him. I’m absolutely in… smitten-ness with this gorgeous minotaur, and tonight has somehow made it worse. After convincing me to stop thinking so hard and just take our time together at face value, he’d taken my hand in his and drawn me along beside him without once letting me go. Not when he talked to media people or industry people or even potential investors. Not when he needed a break and took some time in a gazebo on the outskirts, where he let down the transparent gauzy drapes and kissed me until I was breathless. Even when the sun dipped below the horizon and the band switched from gentle background music to something more lively, he’d taken me in his arms and we’d been the first on the dance floor, where he’d laughingly paraded me around for everyone to see—and take photos of us together.

He’s been acting like I’m… like I’m his wife, or something, with all the right in the world to be at his side for every move, just as Rho is doing with Ella. He said tonight wasn’t about ulterior motives, that we should just bewith each other in the moment, and then he treats me like… well, like I’m not just a lover, or a fling to steal sexy moments with. He’s treating me like I’m his.

And it’s making an unhelpful hope spring in my chest, because the way he’s acting goes against everything he’s ever said he was looking for, and it’s confusing me. Either that, or I’m further gone on the Smitten Train than I thought, and I’m inventing things to fit the fantasy of what I wish was real.

Because if Oli did want more than just ‘a little fun’ with me, I don’t think there’s anything I could do to resist him. Even if I knew it would only lead to more heartache.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe with another man. So relaxed, so unguarded. Like I don’t need to do anything to keep things right between us. It’s freeing, and it’s addictive. I think I’m addicted to him.

“Do you think Rho’s going to say anything at all?” Ella asks quietly, leaning closer from her seat beside me as we watch our men on stage. “I wrote him a short speech, but all he’s doing is glaring around at everyone.”

I snicker under my breath and throw a glance at my sister. She looks beautiful in her floaty midnight-blue dress, her gigantic belly barely fitting under the table. “I think if Oli so much as looks at him while holding the mic, Rho might throw him off the platform.”

“It’s a good thing Oli’s doing well up there, and looking good while he’s at it,” she quips, wiggling her dark brows at me as around us the crowd laughs again at something Oli says. “He really seems like he’s glowing tonight. I wonder what you could have done to put him in such a good mood.”

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