Page 17 of Wrangled By the Minotaur
A flush creeps up her neck, painting her sun-kissed skin a delicious pink, but she doesn’t look away. “How am I looking at you?”
“Like you trust me completely. Like you’d let me do anything to you.” My voice has dropped to a rumble that I feel in my chest. “That’s dangerous, Frankie.”
“Maybe I like danger.”
The words send a jolt through me. I take a step back, trying to put some distance between us before I do something we both might regret. But she follows, closing the gap I’ve created, her hands resting on my arm.
“Is that why you came here?” I ask, glancing meaningfully at the duffel bag by the door. “To tell me you’ve decided? Even though I can hardly believe it, seeing that bag…”
“Yes.”
“And?”
She takes a deep breath, her full breasts rising beneath the soft yellow sweater, and squares her shoulders like she’s preparing for battle. “I accept your offer.”
The relief that crashes over me is so intense it’s almost painful. But hard on its heels comes something else: a crushing wave of guilt that makes me want to roar with frustration.
“No,” I say, backing away from her. “No, you can’t. You don’t understand what you’re agreeing to.”
“I understand perfectly—”
“You don’t.” I’m pacing again, the restless energy returning full force. “You have no idea what this will cost you. What people will say. How they’ll look at you.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“You should.” I stop pacing and turn to face her, letting her see the full weight of my intensity. “Do you know what they’ll call you? The woman who moved in with the monster? They’ll say I corrupted you. That I forced you. That sweet little Frankie Baker couldn’t possibly want this unless the beast put some kind of spell on her.”
“Let them talk.”
“It won’t just be talk. They’ll ostracize you. Cut you out of their little community. You’ll lose everything you’ve built here.”
“I’ll lose the farm anyway if I don’t do this.”
“There has to be another—” I stop, struck by a sudden realization. “Yes, there is. Forget the arrangement. I’ll help you save the farm anyway. You’ve already done more than enough, showing me kindness when no one else would. I don’t want anything in return.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and for a moment I think maybe she’ll take this easier path. But then she shakes her head, her waves catching the light from the foyer chandelier.
“That’s generous,” she says softly. “But I don’t want your charity.”
“It wouldn’t be charity—”
“Yes, it would. And even if there was another way, I’m not sure I’d take it.”
That stops me cold. “What do you mean?”
She moves closer, and I catch that subtle shift in her scent again—something warm and honeyed that makes my mouth water and my control slip another notch.
“I mean maybe I’m tired of being what everyone expects me to be,” she says, her voice dropping to something raw and vulnerable. “Maybe I want to know what it feels like to let someone else be in control for once.”
The words hit me like lightning. “Frankie.” Her name comes out as a warning growl. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“But I do.” She takes another step closer, and now she’s close enough to touch. Close enough that I can see the way her pupils are dilating, the flush spreading down her skin to disappear beneath the neckline of her sweater. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About belonging to you. About what that would really mean.”
“And what do you think it means?”
“I think it means you’d take care of me. Protect me.” Her voice has gone soft, breathy. “I think it means you’d touch me however you wanted. Whenever you wanted. And I’d let you.”
A sound escapes me that’s half growl, half groan. My hands clench into fists at my sides, fighting the urge to reach for her and show her exactly what her words are doing to me.
