Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

###

She could not know how beautiful she was to him.

His heart thundered in his ears as he stood and captured her hand in his. He removed his cloak and cast it upon the sand with hers.

This contact was so new, so raw with his passion that he loosened his grip on her. His touch affected her too, he saw it. He must be careful of her innocence. Each touch brought new sensations – and worries that he would frighten her away.

Each touch made him ache for more.

He came to stand inches before her, and she froze. She tilted her head, staring up at him as he reached for her. He placed his right hand slowly, deliberately, cupping her left side. She gasped, sucking in her breath sharply.

His hand tingled, aching to pull her against him, aching to love her.

He waited but she said nothing.

“Raise your hand,” he said. He demonstrated, raising his left hand and arching it over his head. When she lifted hers, he grasped her hand. Her skin was smooth and soft in his. He took a steadying breath. “Now place your other hand as mine.”

Ariston’s stomach clenched as her soft hand slid across his skin, curling around his side. His muscles contracted as her fingers tightened, forcing him to draw in another steadying breath.

“Now, hang on.” He smiled and held her, turning them both rapidly. Round and around they flew.

Her laughter surrounded them, drawing a smile from him.

When he expected her to pull away, she grasped the front of his exomie, the other hand sliding up from his stomach to rest on his bare shoulder. She did not know that her hands had moved over him so, for her eyes were shut. She did not see the hunger he felt for her.

She clung to him so she would not fall. He would never let her fall.

His arms came around her, holding her in a loose embrace. She weaved on her feet and leaned into him.

###

Medusa felt his arms about her and knew she was clinging to him. He held her in his steady arms, securely – carefully. And yet she felt a new ache that troubled her. Was there something wrong with her that his gentle embrace made her want something more? She had no idea what was missing, yet she felt it all the same.

She looked up at him then, wondering if he felt this strange reaction.

His eyes were heavy, waiting for hers.

The ache tightened, making her glad he held her upright.

His skin was warm. His heart beat, rapidly, under her right hand.

Her gaze fell to her hand, glowing white against his shoulder. She saw the convulsive swallow of his thick neck and the unsteady breath he took. His scent – sun, earth, and something more – filled her nostrils. Instead of loosening her grip, she found it tightening upon him.

Her heart. Her heart was beating… pounding. Her breath quickened as their eyes met.

She knew what this was, what she could now admit. Beyond the stirring caress of his hand upon the base of her back or the rippling strength of his arm about her waist, she wanted his hands upon her. She wanted him to touch her as a man touched a woman.

Still he watched her. She knew her wants, her thoughts, were visible upon her face. As hard as it was for her to breathe, to speak, she wondered at his silence.

“Ariston,” she spoke softly, unsure of how to go on.

His eyes were steady on her, his mouth tight and his nostrils flared.

He felt the same?

Medusa shook her head. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest. She took a shaky breath and turned her head, pressing her cheek tightly against his chest and wrapping her arms about him. Her hands clung to his back, twisting in his tunic. “Oh.”

His arms tightened instantly, his breath caressing the top of her head.