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There’s a pause. The girl of my dreams is studying me as though I’m a beetle under a microscope. I can’t blame her. I can turn on any television station in the world and stare at humans. She’s never seen one of my kind before. To break the silence, I remind her, “Coffee?”
“Oh! Right. I have some—holy snowballs!” Libby looks past me and points at the blizzard, which has upgraded from howling winds and whipping flakes to dumping solid sheets of snow.
“Wow. It’s coming down. I’d better get going.”
“Milo! You saved my life—or at least my life force. And possibly my self-respect and my virtue. I can’t let you drive in this. Or walk. Do you drive? Never mind! Do you want to spend the night?” Libby asks, placing both of her little hands on one of my arms.
The kittens wind around my ankles. Libby looks up at me with genuine pleading.
How can I say no? “Thank you, I’d love to.”
Chapter Thirty-Two: Libby
Iconfess. I am back in my right mind, a little shaken up, and a lot horny.
Have you ever met someone you instantly trust? That you can bare your soul to?
I sure as hell haven’t. I grew up keeping my mouth shut for safety.
Milo... Milo erases that in me. I think it’s because he’s so protective of me. He doesn’t want to break boundaries or cross lines. It’s clear in the way he speaks to me, the things he said while I was under Ricky’s “spell” (which are coming back clearer and sharper with every passing second), and how he constantly checks on my comfort level. Even though he accepted my offer, he’s quick to say that he knows several people in the area and he could go elsewhere.
I want him to stay.
I want Milo to stay, and I don’t want him to stay on my couch, which he quickly assessed and declared as his own for the night.
As we sit on that couch, I listen to Milo talking like a proud father about the kittens. He tells me about the Bog Cat mother, which answers a lot of my previous questions about her winter litter and why some were rejected. While he talks, I study him, staring over the rim of my coffee cup.
Yep. He’s not human-looking. Oh, his hands and torso are. Even his thighs, which bulge in denim, are human. But the sheer size of him is monstrous—and I feel like a bitch for using that word.
Milo is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. His bull-like features strike me as a cross between caricature and cartoon, as if a comic book minotaur had been brought to life. Every detail about him intrigues me—and some turn me on.
I can’t help it. Ricky had me at new heights of hot and bothered. Now I have a guy next to me who most likely provided the Urban Slang definition for “hung like a bull.”
“I’m boring you.”
Milo says those words and my fantasy shatters. “No! Seriously, you’re not. I love hearing you talk about the cats. I can’t bear to take them from you.”
“Oh. I insist.” Milo smiles, but his eyes are sad.
“We could... co-parent. If you don’t mind getting together on a regular basis?” I plunge in. I hope this man will be either my friend or my lover, but at the very least he’s my kitten baby daddy. The thought makes me giggle.
Milo’s face goes all soppy and soft. “Your nose does this adorable thing when you smile. It’s so cute and little.”
“All of me is little next to you.” I push my thighs together and lock my lips to keep from saying anything X-rated to this sweet, lovely man. I want something big in me. Something that stretches. That pulses and pulls, and makes me dance on the edge of pain.
Like heavy metal lovemaking. Like metal, there could be surprising softness and beauty underneath.
“Yeah.” Milo’s reply is a heavy breath of air.
Could he be picturing it, too?
Hey, if I ask and it backfires, later I can blame it on being incubus-ed, which I’m sure isn’t a word.
“So, minotaurs date humans?”
Milo juggles his coffee and catches the cup as it goes airborne. Thank goodness only a few drops were left in the bottom. “Uh, yes. Many of us. Not all. I have a cousin who’s married to a banshee. Long story. They met in college.”
“Cool. Cool. So, um... do you? Date humans?”
