Page 18 of Wrangled By the Minotaur
“You’re too good for this,” I say desperately. “Too good for me. By the time these three months are over, you’ll hate me for putting you in this position.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll hate myself for waiting so long.”
“Frankie—”
“I know you can smell me,” she interrupts, her cheeks flushing a deeper pink. “I’ve seen the way your nostrils flare when I get close. The way you breathe deeper. You must know how… excited I get.”
The observation nearly undoes me. “Yes,” I admit roughly. “I can smell it. It’s been driving me fucking insane.”
“Good.” The simple word, delivered with such quiet confidence, makes something primal snap inside me. “I want you to know exactly what you do to me.”
“Christ.” I take a step toward her before I can stop myself. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you upstairs. Makes me want to strip you naked and taste every inch of you until you’re screaming my name.”
Instead of backing down, she tilts her chin up defiantly. “So why don’t you?”
This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me. Still, I try one last time to hold back. “Because you deserve better than a monster’s bargain. You deserve romance and courtship and—”
“What if I don’t want romance?” she interrupts again. “What if I want exactly what you’re offering? What if I’m tired of being treated like some porcelain doll?”
I stare down at her, this brave, impossible woman who’s looking at me like I’m something to be conquered rather than feared.
The challenge in her eyes breaks something inside me. All the careful control I’ve been maintaining since she walked through my door crumbles like a dam giving way.
“You want to know what belonging to me means?” I ask, my voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.
“Yes.”
“It means when I need something from you, you give it. It means I get to touch you, taste you, learn every sound you make.” I take another step closer, and she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. “It means you trust me to take care of you.”
Her chest rises sharply, but she holds her ground with unwavering eyes. “And what do I get in return?”
“Everything.” The word comes out fierce, possessive. “I’ll protect you, worship you, learn exactly what makes you come apart in my hands. I’ll take care of you in ways you didn’t even know you needed.”
She’s silent for a long moment, before finally saying, “Promise?”
The single word, whispered with such trust, such hope, nearly brings me to my knees. This woman, this brave, beautiful woman, is offering herself to me despite everything I’ve told her. Despite knowing what I am, what I’ve done.
“If these three months are all I get,” I say roughly, “I’m going to make sure you remember them for the rest of your life.”
Before I lose my nerve, I drop to my knees in front of her. Even kneeling, I’m still tall enough that we’re nearly eye level. Her scent surrounds me like a cloud, and I have to grip my thighs to keep from reaching for her.
“Let me taste you,” I say, my voice barely recognizable.
Her eyes go wide, pupils dilating with want. “Here? Now?”
“Right here. Right now. Grip my horns to steer me exactly where you want me.”
For a moment, she just stares at me, and I think maybe I’ve finally pushed too far. Maybe the reality of what I’m offering is too much, too fast.
Then her small hands reach out and wrap around my horns, and I nearly come undone at the simple touch.
“I want you right here,” she whispers, guiding my head toward the apex of her thighs.
Chapter 6
