Page 22 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs
My kitty cat timer hops from the windowsill to the island, flipflopping over to me as the sound of the front door opening echoes down the hall to us in the kitchen. The timer’s tiny features curve up into an honest-to-gods smile.
Moments later, Manorin ducks into the kitchen with a smirk on his face. He slides onto one of the barstools, which creaks under his enormous weight. Leaning onto his forearms, he stares at me, crimson eyes scanning my face and dropping lower. His perusal is a heady thing, my power rising to the obvious call of his interest.
Without the distraction of Vikand, my sensuality is roaring back. I lick the spoon I used for the pie, running my tongue suggestively over the curved end.
Manorin’s nostrils flare as he rises, planting both hands on the countertop.
“There you are, woman.” His tone is low and suggestive, crimson eyes narrowed as he stares at me. “Let me guess, it didn’t work out with what’s-his-name?”
I grin. “It didn’t.”
His red eyes drop down my body then back up, and in thatmoment, I feel more beautiful than I’ve felt in a very, very long time. Because the way Manorin looks at me is worshipful.
Just then, my pixie guest, Gilbert, pops his head into the kitchen with a smile, glancing at Manorin’s enormous back. “Err, sorry to interrupt, Catherine. I’m out of towels, and I know you told me where I could grab more, but I’ve already forgotten.”
I flash him a big smile. “No worries at all, Gilbert. I’ll bring a stack to your room as soon as I get these pies in the oven.”
The pixie male waggles his brows. “Tell me I don’t have to wait until morning for the pies? They smell delicious!”
That pulls a laugh from my throat. “You don’t have to wait until morning for them. As soon as they’re done baking, I’ll set them out in the formal dining room, and you can grab a piece. Come fast, though. They move quickly.” I shoot him a friendly wink.
“Thanks, Catherine!” He waves as he turns and heads back up the hallway.
I set the spoon down, then round the island. When I’m close enough to Manorin, he grabs my hand and pulls me close, dipping low. He nuzzles his snout against my ear, sending white-hot rays of heat through my body.
“You’re fucking dripping pheromones, Cath,” he murmurs. “Needy little Sunshine. You’ve been a godsdamned faucet since I got here. After you help him, let’s go to dinner and talk about doing something with this heat.”
I turn to him with a smile, summoning my power to tweak my pheromones in the way I know will drive him wild. The slight change has an immediate effect.
Manorin lets out a quiet low. The sound is a combo of a moo and a growl and it’s so deep, I nearly gasp from the reverberation of it.
Now that we’re playing like this, I want to drive him utterlywild. A switch has flipped somewhere inside me, and it’s all systems go.
“Not tonight, Manorin.” I bat my lashes up at him. “I’ve got quite a lot to do around here.”
He drops his grip on my hand, lifting his chin as his smirk grows. “Alright, Catherine. Tell me how I can help, and let’s get it done together. Either way, I’m taking you to dinner. You turned me down yesterday, but tonight, I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I wave away his offer. “That’s alright. I’ve got my methods and?—”
He silences my refusal by bending down and licking a hot path over my bottom lip. His tongue is rough and wet, and everything inside me clenches up tight. Pulling slightly back, he stares at my mouth.
“You could have this hot tongue on your pussy tonight, Cath. Because I’ve got a proposal for you that involves friends with benefits simply because it’ll feel good.” He plays with a strand of my hair. “No strings attached, woman. Use me up because we both know you want to.”
He straightens, his expression a challenge.
Come to me. Give in.
But this is how it always was with us. Teasing and pushing until we fell ravenously into bed.
“I can agree to dinner,” I manage.
He straightens with a satisfied smile. “Good, Sunshine. If you won’t let me help you, I’ll wait out front.”
The kitty cat timer meows and flip-flops head over heels across the countertop. When it halts in front of Manorin, he leans onto both forearms on the counter, still looking at me. “Actually, looks like I’ll be here having a little chat with Annabelle. Find me when you’re done.”
A chat with Annabelle? Surprise courses through me. She’s awonderful hostess, but she doesn’t typically do more than make her opinions known to our guests. For her to initiate a conversation of sorts with Manorin is a surprise indeed. I stare at the timer for a long moment, but she studiously ignores me as she purrs and scoots closer to Manorin’s hands.
I mull that over as I grab Gilbert’s towels and consider my old friend’s proposal.
