Page 57 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs
After a quiet moment, I force a smile and look at him. “You should take that job if it’s formally offered. You’ve wanted this as long as I’ve known you.”
“I can’t take that job for two reasons,” he says, lifting a finger. “Firstly, it hasn’t officially been offered, and he’s not even sure he wants to retire. Secondly, you and I haven’t discussed it, and I’d never take a new job without discussing it with you in depth.”
I shake my head. “You don’t need to discuss this with me, Nor. We’re just,” I wave a hand awkwardly between us, “playing around, having fun. It’s not serious.”
He cocks his head to the side. “We both know that ain’t really how it’s working out though, don’t we?” His expression is so assessing, so shrewd, I wonder if he can see right to the heart of me where those damn feelings are taking hold.
“I’m falling for you,” he whispers, moving forward to hover his upper body over mine. “And I think you’re feeling the same, Cath. Am I right?” He strokes big knuckles up my chest, then drags his fingers along my jawline.
In my mind, walls begin to snap up around my heart. I picture Wesley and the trust I had in him. He shattered it so completely, and I don’t know if I can trust like that again.
“This’ll work out how it’s meant to, right?” It’s all I can think to say as he reaches for my hand.
He gives a slow nod. “You didn’t answer my question, Catherine.” His crimson eyes focus on my mouth. “Am I wrong? If I am, you can tell me that, and I’ll understand. I…” his voice trails off.
I can’t find the words. If I admit them, a dam will break loose inside me, and I’ll be overcome. So, I plaster a bright smile on my face. “We don’t have to cover this now, Nor. Let’s go to breakfast and the running of the bulls. I need a minute with this, okay?”
He sighs, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he rises from the bed. “Alright, but you know I wouldn’t justtakethis role, right?”
“Okay,” I agree as I slide off the bed and round him. “I’m going to shower and get ready, and then we can go, alright?”
He says nothing as I disappear into the bathroom. The moment I shut the door, I sink against it and to the floor as I try to collect my thoughts.
Manorin’s quiet during breakfast. I try to enjoy Betty’s famous roast beef breakfast sandwich, but Rip Shorthorn’s sitting at the bar with Hadrian Alkazar—wining and dining him, no doubt—and Nor’s a silent, frustrated-looking presence across the table from me.
Now that I’ve had a little time to sit with his big reveal, we should talk about it, but we obviously can’t do that in public. Especially not with Rip sitting right there at the bar.
Nor looks over the table at me. “I’m kinda thinking we should head back to Ever, unless you want to stick around for the running of the bulls? And Amatheia might be disappointed if you don’t sing karaoke. But…” He trails off. It’s obvious he wants to talk about this too, but knows this isn’t the right spot.
I fight back a frown. I want Annabelle and a quiet place to talk with Manorin.
“Can we go after breakfast?” It’s all I can manage, but his quiet nod tells me he’s feeling the same way. This whole situation, even this weekend, was always meant to be pure fun. The reality is, despite my best efforts, my long-dead feelings for him are back with a vengeance.
Knowing he’s going to get the Pine Gulch job makes it feellike I’ve already lost what I don’t even have. I’m sick to my stomach over it, and I can’t manage to eat, even though breakfast was my idea.
Eventually, Nor slaps money on the table and stands. He grabs my hand and pulls me to him, tucking a stray wave out of my face.
“Let’s go pack,” he says quietly, “and we’re going to discuss this, Catherine. I won’t have another meal where we don’t talk.”
I nod, glancing around at the overfull restaurant. Behind him, Alcazar and Rip Shorthorn are laughing over Bloody Marys.
I feel sick.
Rip Shorthorn’s recruiting for Manorin to swoop in and take over a kick-ass team. Everything sucks, to use one of the triplets’ phrases.
Nor sighs and pulls me toward the door. We remain silent all the way back to the room. But the moment he closes the door behind us, he hauls me up over his shoulder. Stalking to the bed, he lays me carefully against the pillows and climbs on top of me, sitting on his haunches. He reaches down and unties my wrap shirt, pulling it open to reveal my soft belly and breasts.
A rumble from deep in his chest stokes a fire inside me, even as misery does its best to douse it. He unbuttons his collared shirt and shucks it off his enormous shoulders, crimson eyes meeting mine. Tossing the shirt aside, he slides one arm under me and flips us, settling me splayed across him.
“That’s better,” he says with an appreciative smile. “When we fight, we should fight topless. Easier to make up.”
“We’re not fighting,” I manage.
“We’re notnotfighting, either.” One of his dark brows curls upward. “We’re gonna get all of this out on the table now, Cath. We started this thing for the sex. We’re adults; we knew what we were getting into. I won’t speak for you, but it’s not just sex for me. I’m in love with you. Again,” he tacks on. “And based onhow upset you seemed with the Rip Shorthorn news, I’m gonna guess you’re feeling something like I am.”
A muscle in his jaw works overtime as he glances away out the wall of windows. After a quiet moment, he looks back. “I don’t want to assume that you’re in love with me, but?—”
“It’s headed that way fast,” I whisper.
