Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
That’s the only reason my hands fall to the front of his pants. Or that’s what I tell myself as I palm his hard cock, a physical response he’s obviously gone out of his way to ignore. Well, I’m not going to ignore it.
Perseus grips my wrist lightly. “That’s not why I did this.”
“I know.” My chest is too full of all the things I can’t say. All the things I don’t know how to say. Perseus and I were doomed from the start. Our marriage will fail, will end in his death or mine. It’s all but predestined, a fate written in the stars. From the moment I said I do, I knew it as truth. There’s no space in our fate for softness and care. I don’t know how to deal with the sudden pivot.
So I won’t. Not tonight.
“Callisto. You were shot. Today. Mere hours ago.” He doesn’t release my wrist, but he does plant his free hand on the tile next to my face. “You need sleep. Not sex.”
Maybe he’s right, but sleep isn’t going to come for me anytime soon. More than that, a desperation is rising within me. Some asshole shot me today. I could have died. I can still feel the possibility lingering close, the darkness at the edge of my vision. A promise of oblivion that never ends. Some people go to their deaths peacefully. I’m not one of them. I will spend every last breath fighting to stay alive, to remain with those I care about.
What better way to combat death than with the purest representation of life? The logic is a stretch by any definition of the word, but I don’t care. It’s a paper-thin excuse to take what I want—and what I want is my husband.
“I almost died today.” The words come out halting, uncomfortable. “I need to feel alive, Perseus. I need you to make me feel alive. I need…you. Please.” I’m not one to beg while still in my right mind, but I can see the stubbornness in the set of his jaw. He has a particular kind of comfort in mind, and it doesn’t involve orgasms. Maybe that’s why I keep talking. It’s certainly not in a pathetic attempt to comfort him. “You’ve taken care of me. You’re going to keep taking care of me. I promise not to pull any athletic moves that will mess with my stitches. I’ll do whatever you say. I just need this. Please, Husband.”
His hand twitches around my wrist when I call him husband. I’ve said it before, but the word has always contained enough derision to cut. Not this time. This time, I say it almost as if he’s my husband in truth, the husband I would have chosen without duress.
Perseus narrows his gorgeous blue eyes at me. “You’re testing me.”
“I’m not. I promise.”
“A trick, then.”
If I let him, we’re going to keep arguing all night. He wants this as much as I do, but he doesn’t trust me. I’ve given him no reason to, and I won’t in the future, either. But right now, my words are truth without any deceit behind them.
I wrap my free arm around his neck and press my naked body to his. I can’t quite reach his mouth without him bending down, so I speak against his throat. “It’s not a trick. I just need you. Will you deny me?”
His breath shudders out and he releases my wrist to press his hand to the small of my back. “No, Wife. I won’t deny you.”
22
Zeus
I kiss my wife. It’s something I’ve done a thousand times, but it feels different in this moment. It feels…intentional. Like a promise of something I don’t know if I can fulfill. Callisto is hurt and obviously shaken, and a better man would wrap her up and tuck her in and leave it at that. But she opens for me so sweetly—sweetly—and I’m a goner.
I sweep her into my arms, careful not to jar her shoulder. “If it’s too much, tell me to stop, and I will.”
She lays her head on my shoulder and presses her hand to the center of my chest. “I know.”
Two simple words, spoken without any hesitation, are nearly enough to dismantle me entirely. I set her down on the bed and shove off my pants. It takes a little more effort than it would otherwise because of the wet fabric, but I manage. Callisto props herself up on her elbows and watches me closely.
I’ve barely touched her and the intimacy of being seen is almost more than I can bear. Despite myself, I can’t stop from glancing at the light switch. She sees. Of course she sees. “You can turn the lights off if you want.”
If I want. I turn back to her. “What do you want?”