Electric Idol (Dark Olympus 2)

“There you go again, using that word. Should.” His hand skates down my stomach and over to my hip. It’s not quite an invitation, but it’s not not an invitation, either. “You seem tired, Psyche.”

I frown at the gray wall across from the bed. “Thanks. That’s what every bride wants to hear the day after her wedding.”

His low chuckle has me fighting not to arch back against him again. Eros presses a light kiss to my shoulder. “It seems a damn shame to get out of bed before we have to.”

I’m already on a slippery slope when it comes to this man. First, I compromised with some of the best oral sex I’ve ever received before the ceremony. Then, we had entirely too much sex after the ceremony. If we push the boundary again, I’m not certain I’ll be able to hold out the next time he decides he’s in the mood to seduce me.

If the slow heat building in my blood is any indication, he won’t need to do much to have me on the verge of begging. He’s barely doing anything now. I clear my throat. “That’s a bad idea.”

“Is it?” Eros doesn’t move his hand, doesn’t shift against me at all. His tone is so dry, he might as well be asking about the weather. “Psyche, I’m famished. Let me have a little taste. Nothing more.”

Did I think this man was dangerous when he held my death in his cold blue eyes? The joke’s on me. He’s a thousand times deadlier when he’s whispering filth in my ear. I worry my bottom lip. “You say nothing more, but we both know that’s not the truth.”

He shifts back and I barely get a chance to mourn the loss of his touch before Eros pushes on my shoulder, all but shoving me onto my back. I blink up at him. He looks…concerned? His gaze flicks over my face. “What are you talking about? I thought we were on the same page yesterday. You explicitly told me what you wanted.” He hesitates. “Are you saying you didn’t want it?”

Despite my best efforts to remain calm, I can’t help responding to his apparent distress. “Of course that’s not what I’m saying. How many times did I come yesterday? I’m sure your scalp is sore from how hard I was pulling your hair as I rode your mouth. I wanted it, Eros. That’s not what I’m trying to say.”

Eros blinks at me as if I just popped him on the nose with a newspaper. “Then what’s the issue?”

My frustration bursts like a soap bubble. There and then gone in an instant. “The problem is that last night was supposed to be a one-off.”

He recovers quickly, though there’s still some surprise lingering on his face. “We just talked about this. ‘Supposed to’ is—”

“Do not play word games with me, Eros.” I might not actually be angry with him, but frustration sinks its claws into me and digs deep. Of course he doesn’t see an issue with twisting our words to stay in bed as long as possible. For him, this is simply pleasure with someone he desires. I wish I was wired like that. “Last night was a one-off,” I finally manage. “We were both under an extreme amount of stress, and it’s only natural to want to let off some steam.”

“Psyche.” He says my name slowly, his eyes narrowing. “You can rationalize your way into damn near anything with that big brain of yours, but do not try to include me in those mental gymnastics. I fucked you last night for the same reason I ate your pussy for damn near an hour yesterday afternoon—because I wanted you. Stress, pheromones, or whatever other excuse you’re about to spit at me has nothing to do with it.”

Now it’s my turn to blink. “Of course it has something to do with it, along with proximity. That’s biology. Otherwise, we would have been attracted to each other before now.”

Eros lowers his head until our noses are nearly touching. “Can you honestly say you’ve never been attracted to me before yesterday?” He doesn’t wait for me to sputter out an answer. “Not once in ten years of attending the same parties? Not even when we were leaving the bathroom and I had my arms around you the night we were photographed?”

It’s really difficult to argue with him when he’s so close. And so right. “Um.”

“Because I was attracted to you.”

So I hadn’t imagined that brief flare of heat in his eyes. I don’t know if that’s comforting or terrifying. My careful wall of logic is crumbling around me. “I meant what I said before; I can’t separate emotion from sex. Maybe once, but if we keep doing this, then you’re going to hurt me, even if you don’t mean to.”