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“You are so bad!” I gasp in mock horror.
Milo laughs, a ringing, rich sound, and he runs back to my apartment faster than I can lob snowballs at him.
Chapter Forty-One: Milo
Idon’t want Libby to think I’m one of those guys who expects his girlfriend to have sex every night. That wouldn’t be fair. People can be tired or not in the mood. In Libby’s case, she might need recuperation time because we’re not exactly a perfect fit... even if it does feel perfect when she’s wrapped around me.
Damn it.
Down, boy.
“I bought this. Do you like this kind of thing?”
I emerge from the bathroom where I’ve raided Libby’s old dorm toiletry bag (with her permission) and found an unopened toothbrush. Wiping foam off of my minty fresh lips, I see Libby coyly holding up a slinky black slip with thin straps. I don’t know if it’s lingerie or underwear—are those interchangeable?— but it looks like someone poured liquid silk on a hanger. “Uh-huh,” I answer, probably looking like a punch-drunk calf. Any second, my tongue is going to roll out like one of those cartoon loverboys spotting the hot girl.
Oh my God. I have a hot girlfriend.
My jeans are very uncomfortable.
Down, boy! Heel.
“I’m not usually the type who wears fancy stuff,” Libby explains with a blush. “But if you’re into it—”
“My favorite sight is you. I fell in love with you when you were bundled up in a ripped sweatshirt, scrubs, and sneakers.”
She begins to hastily wad up the sexy creation.
“No, no! Libby, wait.” I rush forward, clopping on my hooves and sending the cats scuttling. “I meant you can be comfy. Or naked. Naked is great.”
She laughs as I wrap my arms around her, stealing the nightie off the hanger.
I shake the smooth fabric. “This would be awesome, especially if it leads to nakedness.”
“Milo Angelakis! You naughty man.” Libby giggles at me.
It occurs to me that in all the times I’ve seen her, I’ve almost never seen her look like this—so happy. There’s something relaxed around her eyes. I want to keep that look there for as long as possible. “I don’t want sex.”
The look vanishes. Libby backs up, blinking fast, her mouth twisting as if she’s trying to speak but she’s too hurt for words.
“Sorry! I—ugh!” Sometimes I think my head is as hard as my anvil. “I’m sorry. Libby, I meant that I don’t always or only want to have sex. I might be a young single guy in my twenties, but minotaur men are very family-oriented. Partner-oriented. I didn’t want you to think I was just in it for the amazing sex. That’s just a perk.” Please, please let me have smooth talked my way out of my colossal hoof-in-mouth moment.
Libby wraps her arms around me—well, as best as she can. My chest is easily twice as broad as her shoulders. “I didn’t think you wanted me just for carnal pleasures.”
“No! I promise.”
“You’re not my boy toy, either,” she reassures. Then she sighs. “Did I mention my relationship track record is terrible?”
My gut tightens. I love her. I don’t know if I’m supposed to. I don’t know if it’s instinctive, primal protective crap. Maybe I imprinted on her. Maybe Freddy and Felix have been working their adorable, fluffy charms since they were first cast out by their mother and found themselves needing a warm, safe home.
If Libby says this is just casual, my heart will shatter, but I can’t tell her that. That’s pushy.
But I guess bursting into her apartment was pushy, too.
“M-maybe it wasn’t you. It was the guys?”
“Oh, no. It was both.” Libby shrugs, not leaving my arms.
“I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove I have staying power.”
