Page 31 of Minding the Minotaur
“No, not the bathroom.”
“Well, thank the gods for that.” I snort out a laugh. “I get to piss in private.”
“From what Otis told me, as long as we stay in the house, you can pretty much do what you like, but I will be sticking close to you.” Her eyes stray to the huge bed behind me, and maybe she doesn’t realize, but the tip of her tongue slides over her lips.
Gods, how much I’d like to throw her on that bed, rip off her pants, part her thighs and fuck her sweet cunt.
Back up the truck, Arlo.
With difficulty, I focus back on her words. “Otis says youcan spend time in the garden as long as I’m at your side. Though I should warn you, he’s given me a zapper thing.”
She pulls back her jacket and shows me a holster with a small taser in it, fixed on her belt.
My jaw drops. “You’re kidding me.”
“Just in case you try to jump the walls or?—"
“Or what?”
“Trample on me.”
“Why would I trample on you?”
She gives me an apologetic look. “Otis said you can move fast and, er, be a bit clumsy.”
“I wouldn’t ever trample on you,” I retort indignantly. “Yeah, okay, I charge sometimes, but that’s just what minotaurs do. And Imayhave knocked someone over in the past, but only a couple of times at most.” I suddenly remember the annual Running With the Bull race. I did bowl over a few monsters in my eagerness to win, and a Satyr did break his leg, but I was eighteen then. Young and foolish. I decide not to mention it. “I would never hurt you, Samantha, you know that, right?”
“Yes, I knew that the moment I first saw you.” She smiles, so gently my heart melts. “You can call me Sammy,” she adds. “If you’d like.”
“Is that what your friends call you?”
She nods.
“Then I’d like that—Sammy.”
“You know what? I’m going to take this off,” she says, undoing the taser and putting it down on the dresser. My filthy mind wishes she hadn’t stopped there. “Why don’t you show you me the garden before lunch?” she adds.
“Sure, I’d love to.” My garden is my pride and joy. It’s small, but I’ve spent a lot on making it beautiful. “Follow me.”
Our arms brush a couple of times as we walk along the corridor, which is just wide enough for the two of us. Everytime we make contact, it feels like an electric current zapping up my arm. She’s tiny next to my huge body, though not small for a human. I guess Otis was right to warn her about my bulk. I walk carefully next to her, controlling my desire to touch her. But at the door into the garden she makes to go first, and so do I. We bump into each other, hard enough that she loses her footing, trips on the step, and goes sprawling onto the pavers outside.
Utterly mortified, I reach down and offer my hand.
“Oh gods, Sammy, I’m so sorry,” I stutter, tugging her up. “Seems maybe you needed that taser after all,” I add ruefully as I gently pull her up to face me.
She looks up at me, all big blue eyes, then makes a face as she casts her gaze down her body.
“Dang, I think I’ve torn a button off my shirt,” she says wryly. Sure enough, the buttons have flipped open, exposing the creamy curve of her breast, encased in black lace. I can just see the dark point of one of her taut nipples.
We stand there, suspended as if in honey, her lips slightly parted, plump, luscious. I could so easily reach down and capture her mouth with mine, sweep my tongue across her lips and part them, then dive in.
She breaks the spell first, stepping away and fixing her blouse. “No, no, it’s not you being clumsy, it’s me. I’m a bit knock-kneed, which makes me trip over my feet. I did the same thing when I was walking with Jax.”
“Jax?” Jealousy hits me in the solar plexus, and I can’t help saying in a churlish tone, “Is he your boyfriend?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, no. No way. But he got me this job. He’s a peripheral.”
“Right.” I try to swallow the caustic resentment that another guy should get to walk with her anywhere.
