Page 19 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

“Nope.” Although I immediately stare at his soft lips once more. We hadn’t even kissed properly, not really. I hadn’t gotten the angle right at first. I’d thought the differences in our face shape, with his slightly elongated, bovine sort of muzzle and flat black nose with the strangely appealing gold hoop, would make kissing difficult. But then he’d tipped my head just so, and… “No.” I shake myself from my thoughts and refocus to see him smirking at me.

“Well, then, no,” he says lowly. “Do with me as you please.”

His eyes rove over my body, which sends a shiver of awareness through me.

“And no…looking!” I cry, although I immediately grin at the melodrama of my own words. “Stare at the ceiling only, thank you. Or maybe a blindfold and a cane would be better.”

He snorts and runs a hand over one of his horns. “Alright, you’ve clearly had an overstimulating evening,” he says, and though his eyes run over me once more, this time he looks away quickly, as if he hadn’t meant to. “Maybe this is my cue to leave? Or did you want me to stay, in case he comes back?”

I sigh and start herding him to the door. “If you’re trying to—”

“No.” He stops and lifts a hand as if to touch my shoulder, before hesitating and dropping it back down. “I’ll stay in another room if you’re more comfortable.” He darts a look at the door, frowning. “But that male is… I don’t like him. I don’t like him bothering you.” His brown gaze is suddenly firm and unyielding as it bores into mine. “I was serious before. If he so much as tries to talk to you again, I want you to tell me immediately.”

Something in my chest tightens and warms at that, but then, Brad is extremely persistent, so I wave away the offer. I’d be calling him all the time. “I’ve handled Brad for four and a half years, Olistaire. I can deal with him a little longer. You don’t have to come find me for every little thing he does.”

He raises a brow, and tips his horns down towards me. “That’s my rule,” he says with a tiny smirk. “You have to tell me. And if I find out you didn’t ask me for help, then you owe me a kiss.”

I huff, open the door, and gesture him out. “Goodnight, Oli.”

His horns tip a little lower, and he doesn’t budge. “Grace,” he says warningly, and for all that he’s still smirking, his tone sends a shiver down my spine.

“Alright, alright, I’ll text you every single time he annoys me. Then you’ll never get any work done and your entire business will collapse. Happy?”

He straightens, and his smirk stretches. “Very.” He steps outside smoothly, but before I shut the door, he turns back to me. “And get a babysitter for Friday night. I’m picking you up for a date at seven thirty.”

“What? I’m not—”

“You want to help me out with Sera, don’t you?”

Oh, right. I sigh again, but as per usual around this man, I’m smiling as I start to shut the door. “Okay, fine. It’s a date.”

Chapter 8

Olistaire

She was going to say yes.

I can’t get the thought out of my mind as I try to work today, no matter how many times I attempt to keep my brain on real estate. When I’d asked if I could kiss her again, uttering those two words, “May I?”, I’d seen the look in her eyes, the way her lips had parted in invitation, and I knew. She was going to say yes.

She wants to kiss me.

If I didn’t already despise that sodden bathmat of a male, I would definitely do so now after he’d interrupted our moment. She would have let me kiss her properly—whether it was originally a move to get back at Brad or not, she wanted it. And now she’s revoked the privileged entirely.

The problem is now that I’ve gotten a taste of her, I don’t think there’s anything I won’t do to kiss her again. The memory of her soft lips, the way her breath had hitched when I’d kissed her back… I need more. Blood rushes through my veins even now, just thinking about it. I need to taste her. I need to feel her body respond to mine. I need very much to make her come at least a thousand times before I can ever feel satisfied again.

I’m just about to give up on the PDF before me entirely and let myself sink into fantasies of what Grace would look like with her bright brown hair splayed across my bed sheets, when a gentle knock disturbs my reverie.

I look up to see one of my staff at the thick glass partition that separates my office from our coworking space. I wave her in, and she pushes my glass door ajar.

“Sir,” the naga says shyly as she slithers partially in, her human top half holding a bundle of folders while her red, snake half loops out the door. “I was wondering if you wanted to review a few potential listings?”

“Commercial?” I ask, and she nods.

“And in neighboring human towns, like you asked, sir.”

“Good girl.” I wave her in, grabbing the folders and giving them a brief flip through, barely even noticing the way her brown skin flushes at the cheeks where her ruby red scales disappear. This one blushes easily, and I normally get great enjoyment from seeing her react to the mildest comments I make. But I find myself uninterested today, instead immediately thinking about Grace again the second Isha stops talking and glides away.

I feel her staring at me as she pauses at the door, and I look back up, realizing I missed her speaking.

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