Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“I didn’t say—”
He spins me around and then his mouth is on mine. Gods, but I could get addicted to the way this man kisses me. This time it’s soft and slow and, yes, like he loves me. I know it’s a lie, but I can’t stop myself from sinking into it. Theseus will never be mine, not in reality, but I’m so damn tired of reeling after Eris’s moves that I’ll take the illusion of it.
Even if it’s only for tonight.
Theseus backs me toward the bed, keeping us tightly pressed together. It’s a little awkward, but that only heightens the way he takes my mouth like he owns me. My legs bump the mattress and he presses me down. “Lube?”
“Nightstand.”
The weight of him is gone in an instant. He moves to where I indicate and pulls out the bottle of lube and a handful of condoms. When I raise my brows, he shakes his head slowly. “This might not be true any other time, but tonight you’re safe with me.”
A lie.
He’s just playing into the fuck me like you love me thing. That’s all. But that doesn’t stop my chest from going soft in a truly worrisome way. “Okay.”
He pushes me back onto the bed, flips me onto my stomach, and settles on top of me. The weight of him does funny things to my head. Theseus, in general, does funny things to my head. I know he’s not for me, could never be for me, but he’s so refreshing in a way I never expected. Blunt and harsh and, strangely enough, awkward and kind.
“You’re thinking too hard.” He presses an open-mouth kiss to the back of my neck. The scrape of his beard against my skin makes me shiver. “Second thoughts?”
“No, nothing like that.” I reach back to where he has one hand braced on the bed beside me and lace my fingers through his. “Don’t stop.”
“Okay.” He trails kisses down my spine. I know this isn’t real—or at least isn’t anything realer than lust—but Theseus’s touch feels downright worshipful.
This is what I asked for.
I know. I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that it feels real.
“You really are perfection, aren’t you?” He blows lightly on the skin damp from his mouth. It’s such a light touch, a direct counterpoint to his weight pinning my lower body to the mattress, that I have to bite back a moan. Theseus skims his fingers over my side. “Gorgeous and strong and loyal. Enough ambition not to be boring, but not so much that you’re trampling over the people around you.”
Each word feels like he’s reaching into the direct heart of me. “Theseus—”
“Too much?” There’s a smile in his voice, and I suddenly want to see it on his face.
I twist and he moves back enough to allow me to turn over. And there it is, a faint curve of his lips. This smile is different than any he’s given me to date, though. It warms his dark eyes, twinkling in their depths. I lift a shaking hand and cup his jaw.
This isn’t real. It isn’t—
He kisses me, sweeping away what’s left of my resistance. I cling to him as he retreats a little, but he’s only grabbing a condom. He sits back on his heels and looks down at me as if he wants to memorize this moment, imprint it right down to his bones.
This man, this monster, this enemy…
He’s all business as he rolls on a condom and picks up the lube. He pops the cap and pauses. There’s a question in his gaze, but he doesn’t voice it. He doesn’t have to. The pause is inquiry enough. I cover his hand holding the lube and guide him to squeeze a bit onto his free hand. His resulting smile is more of a grin—and a crooked one at that.
Oh gods, he’s charming when he’s not snarling and glaring.
“A gift,” he murmurs.
“For me or for you?”
“Haven’t decided yet.” He coats his cock with lube and then spreads a bit more down my ass.
Theseus calls me perfect, but the sight of him leaves me breathless. I feel like so much of my strength is in theory, marked out in clear boundaries to keep me safe. I work hard…in the gym. I’m ambitious…but only to a point that doesn’t put me or the people I love in danger. I grew up in a loving home with two parents who would cut off their own hands before they raised them to me. What discipline I received was tempered with love.
Not like Eris, who might be physically unmarked, but wears her scars on her soul.
Not like Theseus, the things he’s survived written across his brown skin. And those are only the things I can see on his physical body. There are more beneath the surface; I only had to have a single conversation with him to know that.