Page 17 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

I storm in after him, catching him rooting through my still half unpacked suitcase.

“I knewyou’d taken the portable speakers!” he accuses, as he triumphantly pulls them out.

“They’re myspeakers. Of course I took them.”

“You don’t even use these, Gracie, you don’t need them.”

“Momma?” I turn to see my boy walking in behind me, his blond hair flopping into his eyes as he looks between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine, baby,” I sigh, shuffling him gently back into the hall. “Go back to your puzzle. I’ll come play with you again soon.”

Lucas throws another barely interested look at Brad over his shoulder as he obediently trots back to his room. “‘Kay.”

“And the Switch, pookie?” Brad calls out, affronted. “You’ve never once played Super Smash Bros in your life!”

“Lucas likes to play!” I shout, ready to storm back, when the doorbell rings.

“Oh my god.” I tug my hands through my hair in frustration, half dislodging the messy bun as I stomp down the stairs instead. “When it rains, it freaking pours!”

I rip open the front door, and then blink with surprise at Oli standing before me, looking as handsome as ever in a blue suit that contrasts nicely with his brown fur.

“Oh,” I say, suddenly understanding what he’d meant in his text by ‘one better’. “And here you are.”

“Here I am,” he rumbles with amusement, taking in my disheveled state with a raised brow. I immediately pull my bun loose, so I’ll look marginally less a mess. “What do you need from me, words or action?”

“Who is it?” Brad calls out from my room, as if this was his home and he had any right to know, which ratchets my frustration up further.

“Action,” I practically snarl, and I grab Oli by the tie and drag him in.

“I can throw him out—unf.”His words cut off as I continue yanking him down and plant my lips firmly against his.

He stumbles forward, one hand instinctively coming up against my back in surprise as he makes a muffled, spluttery noise against me, his brows raised practically to his hairline. Just kiss me, I think angrily, darting my gaze towards the stairs to see if Brad has come to see what’s going on yet. I need him to get the message loud and clear. No visiting me without permission, no barging into my home uninvited, I am not his damn… anything,anymore.

But then Oli’s palm flattens against my spine, and I look back into his suddenly heated eyes as his hand slides up and curls itself around the base of my neck, large and warm and firm. He tilts my head, suckles lightly on my bottom lip, and pulls back.

I blink, all my anger evaporating in a split second as I feel the ghost of that suck still lingering.

“I have no idea what you’re doing,” he mutters, a slow smile now curling his lips. “And I do not care.”

“I—”

He tips forward, sending a little thrill through my body with his tiniest of movements and short-circuiting my brain into silence. “Don’t. Care. So long as I get to kiss you again.”

I stare up at him, feeling suddenly derailed. My thoughts are silent as he smiles down at me, his warm eyes now roaming languidly over my face. His masculine, spicy scent tickles my senses, and when he squeezes lightly at my neck and draws me closer, his free hand settling at the small of my back and gently maneuvering me until my body touches lightly against his, I suddenly don’t know what year it is or how many fingers I have.

“I… Uh…” I blink again. What’s my name? Couldn’t say…

He leans the last of the way down, and his warm breath ghosts against my lips. “May I?”

And why is that the most seductive thing I’ve ever heard? My lips part, and I… I’m supposed to say no, right? There’s some sort of reason I shouldn’t…

“You slut.” I start at the sound of Brad’s outraged voice, and suddenly, everything comes crashing back down around me.

I jump away from Oli, the quiet in my mind shattering—or at least, I try to jump away. Instead of letting me go, the arm at my waist suddenly bands around my back and his gaze slices to the side to glare at Brad on the staircase.

“You ever call her that again,” Oli growls, and I’m surprised by the deep shift in his voice, “and it’ll be the last thing you say before you hit the pavement.”

“Brad, I’m…” I stop myself, realizing where that sentence was about to go. Brad, I’m sorry.

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