Page 56 of Married to My Grumpy Minotaur Boss

Oh, God.

Me and my panties are in trouble. My heart is already dancing circles in my chest and my own smile stretches across my face in answer before I can do anything to stop it.

I know we’re on camera and he’s probably doing this for ratings but, oh, it’s hard to remember when all I can think about is the fact that he seems different today. Less grumpy. Way more tender. It’s enough to make me wonder if perhaps there was more to his ‘yes’ than ratings.

I snatch the menu and open it with trembling hands for an excuse to look away.

I scan the items, unable to choose. Everything sounds so delicious. After a while, Ronan clears his throat. “Shall I order us some wine? If you’re stuck, I can recommend the oysters. They source the finest Wellfleet oysters here.”

I nod, numbly. “Sounds good.”

Honestly, I’m not even really listening.

Ronan calls over the waitress and makes an order. I smile and nod when he checks if that’s OK, but I’m too busy dreaming about the way he tucked his jacket around me when we were filming above the beach, or the way he made me come on his fingers after.

“It’s been a while since I went out anywhere for pleasure rather than business. I usually eat at home if I’m not in a meeting.”

“Really? You cook?”

He laughs. “No. My personal chef cooks. It always seems like less hassle than going out, but it’s pretty here. Perhaps it’s worth the hassle.”

He’s not looking at the view. He’s still looking directly at me. I flush and glance out the window. The waitress returns with the oysters and it hits me that now I’ve actually got to eat them.

I look down at my plate and gulp. Why did I let him order the oysters?

I poke at one tentatively with my fork. Then at a disapproving noise from Ronan, I look up.

“Don’t be a heathen. These are the best oysters outside the southern hemisphere. You don’t prod them with a fork.”

He lifts one by the shell, tips his head back and swallows it whole. I can’t stop staring. That was surprisingly sexy. But they look so slimy.

Ronan sets the shell back on his plate and picks up another. He pauses, watching me. “You going to eat, or just watch me?”

I tentatively take an oyster from my plate and hold it up.

I swallow. “Um... is it silly to admit now I’m not sure I actually like oysters?”

It drips a little drop of brine onto my chest. Ronan’s gaze follows it and I blush, snatching my napkin to wipe at my breasts.

Ronan snorts and sets down his oyster. “When’s the last time you tried one?”

I hesitate. “Well... never—”

“Never! Come here.” He reaches out and tugs on my chair until it scoots halfway around the table. I gasp. He takes the discarded oyster from my plate and leans in close. “Open up.”

I open my mouth because what else am I supposed to do?

He’s gone and blown my fantasy date completely out of the water. He’s hand-feeding me now? Holy shit. I just wish it wasn’t oysters.

I resist the urge to tremble as he gently holds the shell to my lip.

He tips the oyster, and I tip my head back reflexively. The viscous meat slides past my lips and over my tongue. It’s salty. It’s rich. I don’t chew, just swallow without thinking.

I lick my lips.

“You see?” The way he’s looking at me brings back all the memories of the night on Rottager when he somehow knew I can squirt even though I didn’t know it myself. He has the same self-satisfied expression on his face.

I nod. That was pretty good, actually. Maybe I want another.

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