I give her a mock frown. “Oh? That’s all you have to say?”
She trails her fingers up my arm and back down again. “Eros?”
“Yeah?”
“We haven’t left the bed yet.”
I grin and press her back against the mattress. “We sure as fuck haven’t.”
20
Psyche
I’ve never been a reckless woman. I’ve bent over backward to ensure that I could anticipate any outcome, could be several steps ahead of any opponents. As a daughter of Demeter, carelessness has consequences and so I’ve avoided it.
Until now.
Spending the day in bed with Eros is a mistake. I know it’s a mistake, but every time I consider getting up and facing the rest of the world, he kisses me or touches me or, gods, just looks at me. And then we’re off again, working each other into a frenzy of lust and need. If it were just that, maybe I could convince myself that I haven’t veered off the path to the point of no return, haven’t driven this plan right off a cliff. Except we spend several hours catnapping, curled around each other as if we’re newlyweds in truth, rather than pretending to be simply to serve a purpose.
By the time I can no longer ignore the growling sounds my stomach makes, it’s early evening. I shove him back and practically throw myself off the bed. “I need to eat. I need to shower.”
“I’ll join you.”
“No!” I scramble back a step, panic rising because of how badly I actually do want him to join me. I need distance, and I need it now. “Give me a few, okay?”
Eros watches me closely, and it’s painful to witness his walls come back up. I hadn’t even realized they’d inched down at some point during the day. Before I can change my mind, he’s back to the coldly calculating man I’ve known him to be up to this point. “Take your time. I’ll put together something to eat.”
“Okay.” I barely wait for him to pull on a pair of pants and leave the room before I grab my phone and rush into the bathroom. It seems silly to lock the door, but I’ll take anything to make me feel more centered right now. I turn on the water and stare at myself in the mirror.
I look like a mess.
There’s whisker burn on my neck and chest and, really, my entire body. Red marks from Eros’s fingers pressing into my hips and thighs will likely turn into bruises later. The sensory memory threatens to overwhelm me, and I shiver. This is exactly why I shouldn’t have slept with him. Instead of thinking about our next move and about how to counter whatever lies Aphrodite decides to spin, I’m thinking about how good it felt when he slid his hand between my legs and…
Gods.
I grip my phone tightly, but who am I supposed to call? Callisto? She’s going to rip me a new one the first opportunity she gets. Persephone? She’s already made her thoughts on this marriage clear; she’s not going to have sympathy that I’m suddenly having second thoughts about the whole thing. Not to mention if she found out what the other option was…
No, I can’t call her. I can’t call anyone.
I take a deep breath and set the phone on the counter. This isn’t the first time Olympus life has overwhelmed me. I already have the tools I need to steady the ground beneath my feet. I hope.
Despite my promise to be quick—not to mention the relatively late hour—I take a decently long shower and then put myself together, piece by piece. Hair dried and straightened. Subtle but flawless makeup. I duck into the spare bedroom and pull on a pair of leggings, knit socks, and my favorite oversize sweater. Relaxed, but photo ready. It’s enough. It has to be.
I make myself take the time to stage a photograph in the fading sunlight filtering through Eros’s giant windows. It’s not up to my usual standards, and it takes me ten pictures to nail the soft and happy smile that I’m aiming for, but it’ll do until I can get some more content created in the morning. I type out a happy, sappy caption as I head down the hallway.
I find Eros in the kitchen, sipping from a glass of wine and staring out the window. He glances over when I walk into the room, but his blank expression doesn’t change. “Tomorrow, we’re going out. The longer we stay closeted in the penthouse, the more opportunity we give my mother to create a narrative we don’t want.”
Relief and something akin to disappointment course through me. This is familiar territory; manipulating the paparazzi is what I’m good at. If we focus on that, I don’t have to think about the fact that I really, really want to close the distance between us and kiss Eros for all I’m worth.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I can drive myself up the wall trying to anticipate what angle his mother will take, but at the end of the day, our best defense is to stick with our original plan. “Do you want the giddy newlywed experience or the poised and perfect one?”
“How are they different?”
“Giddy means that we visit the outdoor gardens in the university district and cuddle close while we walk the paths, followed by going to one of the smaller bars to get a little tipsy and pretend like we’re the only ones in the room. Poised and perfect is dinner at the Dryad.”
His brows rise. “Even I have a hard time getting into the Dryad on a moment’s notice.”
“I’m surprised you can get in at all. Pan hates Aphrodite, and I’m sure that extends to you as well.”
Eros’s slow smile affects me even more than it did the first few times I saw it. Now I know he looks exactly the same when he’s planning out what delicious things he wants to do to my body. I fight back a shiver. He sees it—of course he does—and his smile widens. “Pan and I have an understanding.”
That draws a surprised laugh from me. “Don’t tell me you’ve seduced him, too.”
“Psyche.” Gods, every time he says my name, it’s like an invitation to do something I’m sure to regret. “I’m hurt by your insistence that I’m moving through Olympus, leaving a trail of lovers behind me.”
“Am I wrong?”
He chuckles and ducks his head a little. It’s horrifyingly charming. “Depends on who you ask.”
This is bad. I need to be focusing on the plan rather than how attractive Eros is when he’s being self-effacing. “And if I ask Pan?”
“He’d argue that he seduced me.”
Of course he would. Pan is even more notorious than Eros is for spreading his charms far and wide. I shake my head, amused despite myself. “Back to my original question; giddy or poised?”
“Giddy.” He drops the smile, but something about it lingers in his eyes. “This is a love affair, and if we look too practiced, people will doubt that it’s real and give my mother the opportunity to capitalize on their doubt. The fact that neither of us does the giddy, foolish thing normally will only help sell this story.”
“I agree.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Then why even give me an option? Why not simply lay out the plan?”
I can’t quite hold his gaze. “You’re in this, too. It’s important that we’re on the same page.”
“Sure.” He shrugs. “But we’ve already established that this is your domain more than it’s mine.”
“Still.”
Eros drops his arms and moves toward me. It’s everything I can do to plant my feet and not scramble away from him. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I watch him approach. I’m certainly not holding my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He leans down until our faces are even. “Silly me. I thought it might be because you’re doubting your instincts, but you’re not that ridiculous.”
My skin heats in a way that has nothing to do with desire. “Excuse me?”
“You’re doubting yourself. Stop it.”
I straighten my spine and glare at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not doubting myself.”
“Liar.” He says it almost fondly. Eros turns away before I can form a response. “Food’s ready.”
I watch him pull a delicious-smelling casserole out of the oven, not sure if I want to let this go or not. “You don’t know me.”