He’s rumbling softly, that low, almost imperceptiblegrowl he makes when he’s content—or maybe still turned on—and I press closer, letting my fingers trace the line of his arm, the soft hair at the base of his horns, the curve of his shoulder. Every touch reminds me this is what I’ve been dreaming about since I first saw him in the hallway almost a year ago.
I never meant to land in the mailroom at Labyrinth Solutions. But when you don’t have the résumé or connections, you take the door that’s open, not the one you dream about. I’d heard they valued curiosity and boldness, and I thought maybe that could be enough. So I took the leap, and it landed me here. Close enough to see him in his element. Close enough to want him—more than I ever expected.
“You’re… so warm,” I murmur.
He grins, eyes crinkling in a way that makes my knees weak even when I'm lying down. “Not everyone can pull this off—being close, being warm. But you… you make it look effortless. You feel like home.”
I close my eyes, bury my face in his chest, and take him in. All of him. This big guy that’s somehow stolen my heart.
“Magnus. You’re incredible. Do you know that?”
He kisses the top of my head, then my temple, and I press a hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Stay,” he whispers. Not a request. Not exactly an order. Just… stay.
And I do. I remain curled against him, murmuring little confessions—how my wardrobe comes from the outlet mall because it’s all I can afford, thetiny triumphs of training myself with the oversized toy I bought just for this, the ways I’ve been trying to prepare, to handle him. He listens, really listens, and I try to ignore the secret I’m still keeping from him.
At some point, we drift off, tangled together, the city lights painting the walls in streaks of gold and orange. And for the first time in a long time, wrapped in Magnus Trainor’s powerful arms, I feel safe.
I wakeup on Monday to an alarm that feels like a betrayal. My apartment is quiet, too quiet, and for a second I almost expect to hear the low rumble of Magnus’s breathing beside me, his tail flicking lazily against my hip. My stomach flips. My ass twitches. My whole body hums.
Saturday felt like a dream I never wanted to end. Waking up enveloped in his arms, the sunlight cutting across his horns, the softness of his chest under my cheek. We drifted through the day like we were in a montage of a cheesy romance—coffee, kissing, napping, kissing, and more napping. And by napping, I mean more meetings between his cock and my entire body. By evening, I was spent, and he called me a car and sent me home so I could rest, but the weight of his presence hasn’t left me.
But now, with my bag lunch and coffee tumbler from home, reality waits at Labyrinth Solutions.
The elevator ride to the office feels like a parade of every possible worst-case scenario marching through mybrain. What if someone notices how tired I am? How flushed? How dangerously distracted I am by… the CEO?
The doors slide open, and the commotion of the office crashes into me like a storm—trolls grumbling over budgets, humans lost scrolling on their phones, harpies fluttering through inboxes, and Greg giving me that side-eye that says he knows I’m hiding something as he wheels his tech cart through the hallway. Greg always knows.
“Jamie,” Amara trills, swooping in with her blazer flaring around her wings, a stack of folders tucked under one arm. Her sharp gaze follows Greg’s retreating grunt then locks on me. “Oh, honey. Even Greg knows? You are not subtle.”
“Knows what?” I sputter, my heart thumping through my button down.
Does she know about Magnus and me? Does Greg? Oh gods—does the whole office? Sweat prickles down my temple, and I want to swipe it away, but that would be like holding up a neon sign that flashesBusted.
She raises one perfect brow, talon tapping against a folder.
“Well...” She smiles in that knowing, harpy way. “Here’s the good news: all signs point to you nailing it.”
My stomach drops. She knows. I mean technically, Magnus is nailing me, but… details.
“The bad news,” she continues, “you’re nailing a position you don’t have.”
Wait, what?
My eyes widen.
“Jamie, I get it. You’ve been dying to get your shot as a junior strategist. But you’re supposed to be Vanessa’s admin. I pulled strings to even get you that.” She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But… Magnus appears very pleased with your performance.”
You don’t know the half of it.
I let out a deep sigh. At least she doesn’t know I’m screwing the boss.
“I mean, I’m just trying my best,” I babble. “Showing all I’ve got to… give.” The lump in my throat is roughly the size of one of Magnus’s balls. Maybe both. Definitely a two-baller situation.
Amara’s talon brushes my cheek lightly. “Still, don’t go overboard. And remember, the truth always comes out, so don't get carried away.”
Her laughter rings out like wind chimes as she flutters away, leaving me equal parts mortified and strangely comforted. At least one of my career-ending secrets is safe… for now.
The first meeting of the day is brutal. The big pitch to the city looms. Vanessa’s gone, yes, but the execs are here. She’s been calling more. Making sure I’ve got things covered. I don’t think she means having my face covered in the CEO’s jumbo-sized load over the weekend. Three times.
