Page 24 of Screwed by the Minotaur in Hallow’s Cove (Hallow’s Cove #6)

The crowd thinned as the evening waned, the last stragglers leaving with arms full of hydrangea and cinnamon buns.

I started collecting discarded cups and napkins, still half-afraid the mess would eclipse the glow of a night I didn’t want to ever end.

But Rick was already sweeping behind me, making short work of the debris.

At one point I caught him dipping the broom handle low and spinning it like a dance partner, grinning when he saw me watching.

He crossed to where I stood, took my hand with exaggerated gallantry, and pressed a kiss to the back of my fingers.

“Permission to escort you upstairs, Ms. Thompson?”

I should’ve played coy, but I couldn’t muster it.

I only nodded, my heart too full to risk words.

He locked the door behind us and pulled me close as we climbed the stairs, his hand gentle but insistent on the small of my back.

The adrenaline of the night lingered in my veins, making every brush of contact electric.

Up in my tiny apartment, the shadows felt less like a hiding place and more like a cocoon as he folded me into his arms and lifted me clear off the ground.

“You did it,” Rick whispered in the hush, his voice a gentle vibration against my scalp. “You’re one of us now.”

I let out a shaky laugh, equal parts relief and disbelief.

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, and I buried my face in his chest so he wouldn’t see.

He set me down, but I couldn’t seem to let go.

The world felt so big, so loud; maybe I’d built a new home here, but damn if it didn’t still scare me sometimes, the size of what I’d allowed myself to want.

He hugged me tighter, reading my mind in that uncanny way he had. “You deserve this,” he murmured, rubbing circles over my back with his palm. “You always did. You just needed a little proof.”

He pulled back just enough to tilt my chin up, eyes molten gold in the thin light. He kissed me slow at first, deliberate, as if he was memorizing the shape of my lips, the taste of the words I hadn’t said yet. Each pass of his mouth made me ache, made me want and want until I was dizzy with it.

“I want to be inside you,” he said, voice a low rumble that vibrated through my bones, “before you even think about taking off that pretty dress.”

I barely managed a nod before his hands swept over my hips, hauling me flush against him.

The skirt bunched up, fabric cool against my thighs, his hands hot and possessive underneath it.

He backed me against the wall, never breaking the kiss, and in one deft motion slid my underwear down, past my knees, past my ankles, discarding them on the floor.

The shock of bare skin met cool air and the searing heat of his hands, everywhere at once, cut through me.

One thick hand lifted me by the thigh, bracing me in place, while the other undid his pants with practiced ease.

I felt the heat of him, already hard, pressed against the wet, desperate ache between my legs.

He slid in slow—so slow—until I was full and stretching around him, breath knocked from my lungs by the sheer size of it, the delicious fullness.

I arched back, head pressing into the wall, and he kissed down my throat, right where my pulse thundered.

The world spiraled with every thrust. He fucked me, steady and deep, each movement a sweet relief after the giddy, anxious tension of the evening.

I wrapped both arms around his neck, held on as he rocked into me, the muscles in his back shifting under my palms like tectonic plates.

He grunted with every snap of his hips, the sound primal and hungry, and I moaned into his shoulder, half-laughing at how greedy we were, how we could never get enough.

He made me come so forcefully against the wall that I bit down on his shoulder, hard, and the only thing that saved me from sliding to the floor was his solid hold.

I came back to earth straddling his hips, his cock deep inside, our breaths mingled in the hush of the dark.

He thrust a few more times, rougher now, chasing the edge, and with a low, helpless growl, he came, his heat flooding me as he spilled into a gutted, quiet stillness.

We let gravity have us then, collapsing to the floor in a tangled heap, my legs still locked around his waist.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said into my hair, voice so soft I barely heard it.

“Unlikely,” I whispered. “You’re built much too sturdy.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He cupped my cheek, thumb tracing the arch of my cheekbone. “You made this place come alive, you know?”

He was ridiculous, and maybe I was too, but it was suddenly so goddamn important to say it back—to name it out loud for once instead of letting it ricochet inside my chest. “You’re the reason I was brave enough to try,” I said, voice breaking in the middle.

“I almost didn’t open today. Wasn’t sure I could face it. But you… you made it safe to want.”

He kissed me like that was the only answer he needed.

The floor was cold and the night was colder, but we didn’t move.

We just breathed together, letting the world shrink down to the four hands and two hearts and one breathless giggle that seemed to echo in the darkness.

When Rick finally stood up, still holding me as if he could anchor me to the planet, he swept us both to the bed and tangled us under the covers like it was perfectly reasonable to never let go.

That was the first night Hallow’s Cove felt like home.