I don’t know why I held back. I refuse to examine my reasoning.
I flip through her social media, mostly to distract myself from the temptation to tug the sheet down past her chest and just look at her. She’s too fucking sexy. Being this close and not touching her feels like my blood is simmering with no signs of cooling down anytime soon. Backing off last night was more difficult than I’ll ever admit, especially when her hands started shaking where she gripped my hair and her hips made little seeking movements.
Best not to think about that right now. I’m liable to be walking around with a permanent case of blue balls as it stands; no need to make it worse.
Despite posting the photo so late, it already has thousands of comments and even more likes. The comments snag my attention. I frown, go back to the top, and start scrolling slowly, reading every single one.
What is this shit?
Next to me, Psyche stirs. I note her going tense, but she relaxes pretty quickly once she realizes I’ve maintained the careful space between us. She yawns, her hand covering her mouth. “What’s got that look on your face?”
I grip my phone tightly, enough that there’s a very real danger I’m going to crush the damn thing. “What the fuck is wrong with people?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
I almost turn the phone screen to face her but think better of it at the last moment. It doesn’t matter if she’s more than capable of seeing this shit on her own; I’m not going to show it to her. “People are saying some fucked-up shit about that photo.”
“Oh.” Her expression falls a little, but she shrugs it off quickly. “The first and most vital rule of the internet is to never read the comments. That is exponentially more important for anyone who doesn’t fit the traditional views on beauty or is marginalized in any way, but the truth is that even the thinnest, most gorgeous models get people being terrible in their comments. Trolls will be trolls.”
How can she say it so casually? More, how long did it take her to build up that impressive wall between her and the assholes in the comments section? I glare at my phone. “It’s not right.”
“No, it’s not. But you can’t do anything about it, and getting upset over some stranger whose opinion I don’t care about is counterproductive.”
I glare harder at my phone. “Maybe you can’t do anything about it, but—”
Her hand covers my mouth, the light touch scattering my violent fantasies. Psyche gives me a wary look. “I’m sure you weren’t about to tell me that you can find out who these people are and threaten them in some way.”
Since that’s exactly what I was about to say, I keep my mouth shut.
She doesn’t lower her hand. “We have bigger battles to fight right now.” She picks up her phone with her free hand and shows it to me. There are so many texts and calls that the notifications disappear off the screen. “Now, we need to talk—and not about strangers on the internet.”
The only reason I haven’t heard from my mother yet is because she checked herself into the spa yesterday afternoon and will be there all weekend. It’s something she does monthly, and by some strange coincidence, these occasions often line up with a particularly unsavory task she’s given me. Aphrodite would never be caught without an alibi, and in this case it will work in our favor. Though she has her assistant post a few photos through the spa trips, she intentionally makes herself damn near impossible to get ahold of.
I sigh against Psyche’s palm and wrap my fingers around her wrist, easing her hand from my face. “We need to get married as quickly as possible.” Before my mother checks out of the spa and realizes what we’ve done. “A girlfriend is still disposable. A wife isn’t.”
She makes a face. “Yes, I understand. We’re in agreement there.” Psyche glances at her phone. “We’ll do the cute dating stuff for the public after the ceremony to really sell the romance.”
I don’t ask for clarification about what cute dating stuff is. It’s not my forte and I’ll be the first to admit it. Right now, the wedding ceremony takes precedence. The less time we give my mother to react, the better. Still… “I meant what I said last night. We’re not leaving my apartment until I can touch you without you startling.”
“You’re touching me right now.”
I give her a look. “You know what I mean.”
She sighs. “Fine. But I need to return these calls, or my sisters and mother will be knocking at your door.” Psyche glances at my bedroom door. “I’m honestly a little surprised Callisto isn’t already here. She’s learning some restraint now that she’s almost thirty.”
More like I have the best security money can buy, and while Callisto Dimitriou is formidable, she’s no Hermes. I fully expect to see her, though. Sooner rather than later. “There will be interview requests.”
“I already have six.” She scrolls through her phone as she sits up. Her tank top is dangerously low, her large breasts stretching the fabric to the point where it’d simply be kinder to take it off. Psyche sighs without looking at me. “Stop staring at my chest. It’s distracting.”
I can’t stay in this bed with her. If I do, I’m going to seduce her and we’re not going to leave this room for days. I’m starting to come to terms with the knowledge that one night with Psyche won’t be enough. I could have spent all night kissing her. The realization isn’t a comfortable one. “I’m going to take a shower.” Maybe jacking myself will give some relief. I can’t be expected to think straight when I’ve been nursing a hard-on for something like six hours straight.
Except when I step under the water and wrap my fist around my cock, all I can think of is Psyche. How sweet she tastes. Her big tits and full ass. How good her lips would look wrapped around my cock. I come with a curse.
Fuck.
I’m not normally so impulsive as to change a plan at the last moment, but I can’t deny how right it feels to get dressed and walk out to find Psyche in my bed, typing away on her phone. Her hair is a little messy and she’s pulled on her jeans, but she looks almost at home here. Dangerous thoughts. So incredibly dangerous. I finish buttoning up my shirt. “Let’s eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” She doesn’t look at me. “I have some things to take care of before the call with my sisters in thirty minutes. I also need to figure out how to get my stuff from my mother’s home without running into her because that’s not a conversation I’m ready to have yet. Or running into your mother. Though I can’t say I’ve ever accidentally ended up at the same place as Aphrodite, Zeus’s parties excepted.” She holds up a hand when I open my mouth. “I realize that we need to get the physical-touch thing figured out, but I also have exactly zero changes of clothes.”
I shrug. “I’ll buy you more.”
That gets her attention. She lifts her head to frown at me. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You said you don’t want to go home and deal with your mother yet, and I doubt you want to be wearing yesterday’s clothes when you do. Not to mention it’s not exactly safe to be wandering around Olympus before we’re actually married. Simple solution: new clothes.”
“Eros.” She speaks slowly as if talking to a child. “You might be able to walk into any place that carries menswear and find your size, but I don’t have that luxury. The shops are better than they were a few years ago because I get so much press for the designers who do decent plus-sized clothing, but there are only two or three that I’d trust to have what I need in stock, and even then, it’d only be a handful of items. Buying me a whole new wardrobe isn’t possible on short notice, not without going through twice as much work as it would be to get my actual clothing.”
I hear what she’s saying, but I don’t like it. “That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t they have a wide range of sizes to fit all their customers? You’re hardly the only woman’s who’s…” I wave my hand at her.
“Fat.”