Chapter 9
9
B etween catching up on admin tasks, working on a new design for my shop, and attempting to stay on top of my socials, the day flies by way too fast. I have some stray thoughts and pangs of nerves about Wesley coming over, but I can’t afford to let them sidetrack me for long. It’s almost 5pm when my back and bladder start screaming at me loud enough that I can’t ignore them anymore.
As soon as I stop working, all the anxiety I pushed aside comes crashing in. Shit, Wes is going to be here in an hour! My stomach clenches as I take in the wreckage that is my kitchen table. There’s no space to sit down and eat a meal with all the merch and packing supplies I’ve piled on it. I’ve been eating at my desk or shoving random food in my mouth while standing in front of the fridge for at least the past few weeks. When face d with someone else coming over to have dinner, that habit seems less reasonable and far more embarrassing.
I’m a mess. I speed pee, then scowl at my appearance in the bathroom mirror as I wash my hands. Ugh, more than a mess. My dull pink hair is a frizzy cloud, the dark circles under my eyes are reminiscent of a ghoul, and there’s a giant zit on my chin. I should’ve redyed my hair, or at least washed it. I should’ve shaved my legs and tried to tame my bush. It’s been forever since I’ve had a guy over to my place and rather than enticing, I look feral. Wes is going to take one look at the state of my place and appearance, and turn right around.
Glancing at the clock on my phone, I mentally calculate what I have time for. Shave my legs, put product in my hair to reset my curls, slap on some makeup, run the vacuum, shove some of the crap in the living room into a closet, clear away a spot on the coffee table for food, and light some candles. I can do that in 50 minutes.
Wait, what about my bedroom? My bed is covered in laundry that needs to be folded. He’s going to want to go in there, right? Why else would he be coming over? He said he’ll help me pack orders, but there’s no way that’s happening. All it will take is him calling me “baby girl” in that rumbling tone of his and I’ll do whatever he wants, orders be damned.
I re-prioritize. Sort out the bedroom, find something that resembles sexy underwear, shave my legs, fix my hair, put on makeup, shove the mess in the living room into a closet, and light candles. And find my lube. And take out the trash. Shit, I forgot it’s trash day!
I should cancel. It’s already 5:15. I’ve wasted fifteen minutes freaking out about what I need to do. I unlock my phone to message Wes, but find that he’s already messaged me.
Wes: I’m getting spicy tuna, salmon, dragon, and cucumber rolls, and some sashimi. They have a bunch of flavors of mochi, so I’ll get one of each. Wait, no, two of each, so you don’t have to share if you don’t want to. And some of that fluffy cheesecake! I think I’ll also get some katsudon because it’s really good from this place. What else?
The pangs of panic in my stomach morph into amusement. He’s ridiculous. More importantly, he’s still Wes. Yes, he’s gorgeous and a sex god that’s way out of my league, but he’s a goof at his core.
Ariana: That’s enough. Leave some food for the rest of their customers.
Wes: Hmm, you’re right. I’ll see if I can grab some other stuff while I’m out. See you in a bit! Oh, wait. Do you need me to be late?
Ariana: What?
Wes: Do you need extra time to hide the bodies? I know today was busy for you, so I can come later if you need me to.
Warmth spreads in my chest, and I grin at my phone like a fool. I’m nervous about him coming over, but I don’t want to delay seeing him.
Ariana: I’m good, if you don’t mind my place being a little messy.
Wes: I’ve been to your place before, and it’s never as bad as you say it is. Unless you’ve recently become a hoarder. In which case, we’ll meet at my place next time.
Ariana: No, not a hoarder. Just haven’t had much time to keep up with things.
That’s embarrassing to admit to someone as neat and organized as Wesley. I’ve been inside his place once before, and it was immaculate—just like he is in his fancy work clothes. I’m sure he’s just as busy as I am, yet he manages not to be a walking disaster.
Wes: I know, baby girl. I promise, none of my attention will be on whatever mess there is when your fine ass is in the room.
My skin tingles at him calling me baby girl again. It’s strange how much that turns me on. It feels dirty and a little taboo, and I must be a freak, because that makes me like it even more.
Ariana: Okay. See you in a bit.
I want to add “daddy” to the end of my message, but I chicken out. It’s too weird to see typed out, even though it makes my stomach dip in excitement thinking about him asking me to call him that.
Wes: Can’t wait.
I’m swiping on some mascara after my mad dash to make myself and my place as presentable as possible, when the doorbell rings. I startle and accid entally smudge onto my eyelid. Attempting to wipe it away with my fingertip just makes it worse. Dammit!
I scramble out of the bathroom and down the hallway, the doorbell ringing again. “I’m coming! Hold on!” My leg bumps hard into the edge of my couch and I grab it with a yelp, hobbling over to the front door as pain throbs in the spot where I’ll no doubt get a huge bruise.
Yanking open the door, I’m greeted by a mountain of takeout bags and boxes so high they almost completely obscure Wesley’s face.
“Wes!” I’m glad he can’t see most of me past the ridiculous amount of stuff in his arms, because I know I’m beet red from my race to answer the door.
“Hey Ari.” Just those two words have my cheeks burning even more. Has his voice always been that sexy?
“Why do you have so much stuff?” I ask, surveying what he’s holding.
He lets out a soft chuckle and steps through the door, making his way to the kitchen and setting his packages down on the kitchen island with casual ease. No “can I come in?” or “where should I put this?”. He acts like this is his own place, which both annoys me and makes my heart flutter.
“Whew!” Wes exhales dramatically after setting down his burdens, his eyes widening when he takes me in.
Crap, I thought maybe he wouldn’t notice my botched makeup.
“Not what I was expecting when I said I’d come over to help you, but I don’t mind.” He licks his lips and his eyes drop shamelessly to my breasts.
My brow furrows at his weird statement. “What do you—” I look down at my chest. Oh god, I didn’t put my top back on.
He flashes his perfect bright smile at me and raises a salacious brow.
“That’s not…I forgot to…I’ll be right back!” I turn to run away, but the way his smile widens freezes me in place. My legs go wobbly as his dexterous fingers make quick work of his tie and the top few buttons of his crisp white shirt.
Are we seriously doing this right now? No preamble, no discussion, just clothes off less than a minute after he gets here?
I cling onto the counter to steady myself. “W-what are you doing?”
“Getting more comfortable.” He winks at me and my heart races as his human glamor dissipates. He rolls his shoulders and groans softly. “Much better. If you wanna grab a top, I’ll get out some plates. Unless you have a no shirt policy in your home. In which case, I can take mine off too.”
My face heats and a trickle of sweat runs down the back of my neck, despite my lack of clothing, but I do my best to push my embarrassment down. “No policy. I’m just a mess. Give me a minute and we can start over, okay?”
I don’t give Wesley a chance to reply, needing to get away from him to regroup. I hurry to my bedroom and tug on my top. After taking a moment to fix the mascara mishap, I stare myself down in the mirror. “He’s already seen you naked and totally disheveled. Get a grip.” I repeat that to myself three more times, then let out a deep sigh and force myself to go back into the kitchen, even though my legs still feel shaky.
While I was gone, Wesley set out and arranged everything. The amount of food is truly mind-boggling, helping to push away some of my churning nerves and embarrassment.
Wesley lights up when I rejoin him. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs before closing the space between us and gently tugging me against his chest. I blink up at him ra pidly, unsure of what to do. Should I hug him? Maybe a kiss on the cheek? I feel as bumbling as I did before my first kiss.
He bends his head down toward mine, his snout hovering a few inches from my lips. “I’m going to kiss you,” he says in a low drawl that has my palms tingling with anticipation. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I can’t wait any longer.”
“O-okay,” I reply softly, even though it wasn’t really a question.
He closes the distance, and the kiss takes me off-guard despite his warning. My brain still can’t seem to compute that he’s the one kissing me. Never mind that he’s a freaking minotaur. Though, kissing him without the glamor is a little easier the second time around. His mouth parts, his wide tongue seeking entrance into mine, and my breath hitches as I let him in. It’s languid, like he wants to savor every second of the kiss. I cling onto his arms as my body floods with arousal, and his hands on my waist dig in to hold me tighter.
When he pulls away, I take in a shaky breath as I look up into his dark eyes and recognize yearning in their depths. The intensity makes me squirm, and I take a nervous step back, turning my attention to the food before I do something stupid. Like profess the depths of my infatuation with him.
“Uh, what the heck is all this? I thought you were getting sushi.” I cross my arms over my chest, hiding how hard my nipples are after that kiss.
Wesley shrugs, his wide shoulders straining against his shirt. I momentarily get distracted, wondering about what would happen if he took off his shirt while using his human glamor. Would it grow to minotaur size or does the glamor extend even when it’s not on his body? Where does he even buy shirts in his size?
“I did, but the Japanese restaurant is right by Cupcake Fairy, so I went in and gra bbed some of those lemon meringue cupcakes. Those are your favorites, right?”
His question draws my focus away from stray thoughts of how magic and clothes interact. “Huh? Yeah, they are, but you didn’t need?—”
“Oh, and the coffee place next to Cupcake Fairy has that vanilla hazelnut cold brew you were obsessed with last year back on the menu!” Wesley interrupts me, excitedly gesturing to a plastic to-go cup.
I stare back at him, dumbfounded. Not at the absurd amount of food—though it’s ridiculous—but at his off-hand mentions of picking up things I love. My brow furrows. “How do you even remember that I like those things? You’ve forgotten where you parked your car almost every time I’ve gone somewhere with you.”
He shrugs again, a small smile forming on his face. “I pay attention to things that are important to me.”
The words sizzle through me, lighting me up. My heart skips a beat and I grab the coffee and take a sip to conceal my shock. I’m important to him?
Wes moves closer and brushes a thumb against my flaming cheek. “And I only pretended to forget where I parked so I could spend more time with you.”
I shake my head in disbelief and scoff, trying to hide how fast my heart is racing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I recall him leading me around for blocks after we went to a concert in the city. Doug went off with some girl he met, so it was just the two of us on the way home. I was so frustrated that he got us lost and was about to chew him out when his hand accidentally brushed against mine as we searched down the narrow sidewalks. I can still feel a ghost of the electric pulse it sent through me, as well as the furious blush that spread across my face and chest. I told myself I was being ridiculous. It was an insignificant touch. But now… Did it mean something to him too?
His hand slides down to brush my hair off my shoulder. “Nope. I actually have an excellent sense of direction and memory for that kind of thing. I think it’s from my minotaur blood.”
I attempt to glare up at him, but I doubt I’m doing a good job of it. “You’re such an ass,” I say weakly.
He bends down and brings his snout to my neck, inhaling with a soft groan. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh?” My voice is rough and breathy as I wait for what he’ll do next, but he just steps back and smiles.
“Yeah. Let’s get some food in you, and then I’ll help you tackle your orders.”
“R-right. Yeah. Great.”
He smirks at my flustered response. “Did you think I came here for something else?”
Of course I did! Why else would he be here? I hold my hands out in exasperation at his teasing. “I don’t know! I didn’t think you’d really want to help me with that.”
His eyes darken, and I catch the gleam of his inner beast observing me with blatant hunger. It makes me lightheaded. Or maybe that’s from only eating handfuls of goldfish and a couple of almonds for “lunch” today. My stomach growls, agreeing with the second theory.
Wesley chuckles and hands a plate to me, gesturing for me to pick what I want first. “Helping and taking care of you is my pleasure. And once we’re done with dinner and work, we’ll explore your pleasure.”