“Too late.” She swallowed hard.
“Demi, we’re playing a dangerous game here.”
“It isn’t a game at all.” Her sweet breath brushed across my cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I want my heart back. To love again, even if it’s just my family and friends.” Her voice cracked.
As if a magnetic force pulled us together, I leaned my forehead against hers, breathing her in. All while telling myself not to give in to my desire to consume her lips, to feel her skin against mine. The need to see if she could fill the void in me was overwhelming.
“Demi, you know the god in me has tried to see into your heart. I’m sure you can feel him doing it now. But he can’t seem to get in.”
“I know, but . . .” she hesitated.
“But what?” I had to know. I wanted—needed—her to give me an excuse to brush my lips against hers. To own them. To devour them and then her. To fall at her feet.
“But . . .” Her voice was barely a breath. “When we touch, my heart feels more alive than it has in years. And . . .”
My fingers drifted down her bare arm, her skin rising to meet mine like it had been waiting. My resolve crumbled.
“What, Demi?” I asked, voice raw.
“Nothing . . . I . . .” She seemed to be fighting herself. She was definitely holding something back. “I need to know.”
Before I could ask what she needed to know, her lips were on mine. And I discovered more than I’d ever dared hope for. I didn’t hesitate. I captured her velvet mouth, our lips tangling, syncing—like they’d been waiting lifetimes to find each other.
She didn’t pull away. So I slid my hand into her hair, undoing her messy bun with a reverent tug. Her fiery locks spilled around us, a curtain of heat and want and everything I wasn’t supposed to feel consumed me.
I deepened the kiss, aching to taste her, to explore every inch of her mouth, which tasted like the sweetest nectar the gods had ever created.
She gasped, twisting her hands in my shirt, pulling me closer like she needed me to anchor her.
My grip tightened in her hair, holding her steady, silently begging her not to let this moment end. I couldn’t get enough. If I could drown in her, it would be a happy death.
The god in me surged forward, probing as hard as he could, desperate to read her heart. To know what she felt. To know whether this was as real to her as it was to me. I needed to know her. Every part of her.
Minute after minute we stood there drinking each other in. I didn’t care if we got caught or that I was breaking the rules and maybe even my own heart. All I cared about was her. I wanted her to be happy, to love again.
Then it hit me—how selfish I was being. There was no reading her heart, as hard as I tried. It was locked tight. There would be no access for me.
With that unpleasant thought, I savored her for a second longer, trying to memorize this moment, her, before I pulled away. The breath in me was gone. She’d stolen it, and I was happy to let her keep it.
She blinked, wide-eyed, her breath ragged. Her gaze locked on mine, flickering with what I could only describe as heartache. She knew exactly how much I’d enjoyed myself—how much I wanted every part of her.
But she also seemed to understand the same thing I did: I couldn’t give her what she wanted.
The gods hadn’t thrown us together for more.
I was here to help her. Not to fall in love with her. Though every part of me wanted to.
“I’m sorry, Demi. I shouldn’t have done that.” I took a step back before I could take her right back in my arms. Before I sang her one of the ridiculous sonnets swirling in my head.
“You don’t need to apologize. I kissed you, and I’m sorry. But I had to know.”
“Know what?”
“The truth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
