He gave a little throaty chuckle.“It’s calledfucking, princess.And I’m afraid my imagination requires some sort of visual stimulation.Care to show me your?—”
“Absolutely not.No showing of anything.Now close your eyes and use your likely miniscule imagination.”
He closed his eyes, closed his palms over the key, too.
“Now,” she whispered, “call the heat.”
He rolled his shoulders back, his face terribly still.Then red rushed across the fine, high bones of his cheeks.
“Do you feel it?”She never had.
He nodded.
Jealousy was a dog’s teeth tearing at her skin.“Good.Good.W-what does it feel like?”She sounded small, a bit breathless.There wasn’t time for this.Baxter could appear at any moment.
But she had to know.
“It feels like skin on skin, a fever of desire.No matter how high the heat goes, it’s never hot enough.”
She swallowed.“Don’t fight against it.”
He barked a laugh.“Fight?Princess, I’m going to woo it.I’m going to caress it and tease it until it does exactly what I want.”
Oh God, her entire body felt tight.She’d never been able to physically sense another’s alchemy before.But she was tingling.Everywhere.Her breasts tight, the space between her legs coming alive.
“Y-yes,” she managed to say, “court it.”
“Court?Ha.I’m going tomakeit come.”
Come?Yes, he needed it to come willingly to him, needed the fire of his own body to do his bidding.But the way he said it suggested something else.Never mind.“Focus on the heat.”
“Gladly.”He shifted from foot to foot, and as her attention shot down toward those dancing boots, it snagged at his hips.Good Lord.She knew whatthatwas—the bulge in his trousers no polite young lady was supposed to acknowledge the existence of.But she did possess several brothers.
But knowing about arousal and seeing it were terribly different beasts.
Apollo Chester’s bulge was… significant.
Focus, Sybil.She shot her gaze back up to his.
His glowing eyes danced more than his feet.“Like what you see?”
Oh yes, he was a cad, a rake, an irredeemable rogue.“The only thing I want to see is the iron in your hand melting.”
“That’s not an answer.”His voice tight but amused.
“Focus, Chester.Focus!The iron!”
“Butmyiron?—”
“Is in peril from my foot if you do not focus.”
A sigh, then he closed his eyes again, and the red in his cheeks deepened.After several seconds, he inhaled sharply, eyes popping open, hands popping open too.
On his palm, the iron key glowed bright orange.
“Hestia!”One hand flew to Sybil’s mouth, the other to her belly.“You did it!”
“It doesn’t even burn!A damn candle flame feels like pins and needles, but there’s hot iron in my palm, and it doesn’t hurt a bit!”
