Page 21 of Married to My Grumpy Minotaur Boss

I turn back to look at her. She’s fidgeting from foot to foot. At first, I think it’s the pins and needles, then I realize she wants to tell me something. I sigh. “What is it?”

“Well, about the nightmare...”

I search her face for clues, but there’s nothing. Did she have a bad dream last night? I don’t remember her saying anything about it. “Nightmare?”

Her cheeks turn an even darker shade. “You know? Your dream? The ambulance? Anyway, I wouldn’t have gotten onto the bed, only I wanted to make sure you were OK.” She chews at her bottom lip in a highly distracting way.

“You wanted to make sureIwas OK?” I can’t even concentrate on what she’s saying. Why is everything she does so damn enticing? I should have jerked myself off more before coming on this damn show. I should have known there would be no chance to take care of that sort of thing. Only, I don’t thinkI’ve even thought about it much over the last few months. It didn’t feel important.

Feels fucking important now. My cock throbs against my thigh, twitching at her every move.

That’s all this is.

“Yeah. You seemed... upset?”

Then I realize what she’s talking about. A niggling worry occurs to me, along with a flash of a vague memory. I push it down. She probably was dreaming herself. “Listen, I’m not sure what you thought you heard, but I’m fine. Now if you—”

“You were shouting!” She cuts me off, and I’m so surprised my jaw drops. “You were shouting!”

“Not possible. I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“Oh.” Justine looks down at her feet.

I start to feel just a little bit bad. I’m not prepared to admit, though, that she’s seen me like that.

“Well, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

I sigh. “Not to worry. I’m sure it won’t happen again. What time are we supposed to start filming?”

Just as I say this, there’s a knock at the door. “Filming in five. Are you ready?”

Justine starts. “Oh! I’m just going to...” She points at the bathroom.

“Go ahead.” That will hopefully give me a chance to get myself together.

Justine hurries into the bathroom and shuts the door.

I spend the next three minutes thinking about ice baths, and kittens and rainbows, and anything that will soften my cock.

I’m still sporting a semi when the bathroom door opens again. I look away in disgust. What the hell is wrong with me today?

“Ready?”

I clear my throat, throw the blanket off, and stride to the bathroom before she can look. “Yes. Tell them I’ll be there in a moment.”

I shut the door and stare at myself in the mirror.

What am I doing?

The reaction I’m having is worse than anything I’ve ever experienced before. It’s almost as if—

I cut that bloody idea off before I can even have it, splash cold water over my face, and tell myself to get a grip. The last thing I need is a mate bond I can’t fulfill.

Not happening. I’ll never mate. I’m not risking a child who loses their father the way I lost mine.

By the time I’ve managed to use the bathroom and make myself presentable, everyone is waiting for me in the lobby. I remind myself I opened the conversation with Justine about boundaries this morning. I’ll lay out the rules for her the next time we’re alone.

Except we’re never really alone, are we?

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