Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

“Ariston,” she whispered against him, her tone betraying her nervousness, “I would have you show me…what it is to be a woman…loved by a man.”

She felt his arms tighten about her.

“You have my heart,” his words were hoarse, whispered against her forehead. “I fear my body is not as tender.”

“I know only that there is something more I crave from you.” She pulled back, looking up at him. “Show me, please. Love me.”

His hands moved up her back quickly, as if he’d been waiting. One hand caught her hair, the other cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, reveling in the fluid heat he unleashed. As he bent his head to her, she closed her eyes. She was lost to the feel of his hand on her cheek, his breath mingling with hers.

His lips lightly pressed to hers. Once – soft and lingering. His lips were firm, but yielding. The heat of that touch seared her, melting her against him.

There was more,

she knew it.

She did not open her eyes, but slipped her hands about his neck. She was rewarded immediately.

His lips were soft, surprisingly so, as they settled upon her again. Her mouth responded, fitting against him as his became more firm upon her. His hand turned, and his thumb grazed her lip, startling her so that her lips parted.

His mouth kissed her lower lip, pulling lightly upon it.

Surely the ground had fallen away beneath her feet.

She gasped again, and felt his mouth test and pull upon hers. Their breath became one, their lips clung. Her knees buckled as his tongue touched hers and a small sound escaped her. But his arms caught her, steadying her against him.

She’d never imagined such a thing, that a kiss could be so intimate.

Yet this kiss went on, stoking the fire inside of her to a feverish burn. And his mouth fed the flame, enticing it ever higher. His lips, his tongue, moved on her, within her mouth, until she was breathless.

When his lips tore from hers, his breath was ragged in her ear. He pulled her against him, and she burrowed closer. It was only then that she realized they were kneeling on the sand, tangled in each other’s arms.

“My lady,” he whispered in her ear.

She could not speak.

He pulled back, cupping her cheek again. “You set me afire. I’d hoped—” His words ended abruptly, forcing him to swallow before he drew in a deep breath and said, “How could I know how it would be between us?”

His words flowed over her. She, too, was on fire. And she ached for him with a fierce desperation. Her body, alive in a way she’d never known, was calling for him.

Words would not find her. But the caress of his thumb across her lower lip elicited a most telling shiver.

He stood slowly, reaching out to her. “Let us find our bed, wife.”

Medusa took his hand, letting him pull her up and lead her down the beach. A light shone from the window of the watchman’s cabin, welcoming them.

Chapter Seven

It was a fine morning, hot and brilliant. Ariston glanced up, admiring the beauty of this new day. He stretched his arms and shoulders, soaking in the balmy heat of the rising sun. His bare chest warmed under its rays, tensing as he cast the net that would catch their breakfast.

As tired and hungry as he was, he was complete. Never had he known such happiness.

He pulled in the net, waded further into the sea and cast it out again. The net held the sunlight for only a moment, but the weave shifted, resembling honey strands of silken hair. His mind would not focus. Images of his lady wife would not be held at bay.

His hands tightened on the net.

Her mouth, her sigh, her hands upon him had shown him pleasure like no other. And yet they’d been awkward at best, hesitant and unschooled beneath one another’s touch. The freedom of their love was a new gift, one that would take time to grow accustomed to.

The hunger she stirred… He swallowed. His body throbbed in response to his memories. His need for her had been immediate, leaving little room for tenderness on their wedding night. He’d tried to go gently with her, to bring her pleasure. Instead he’d trembled with his need, held her tightly to him and lost control. The smell of her, her sighs, the quiver of her skin beneath him, the slight catch in her breath when she’d moaned softly against his throat… She had been his undoing.