Or was that her?
He tipped her chin up, licked his lips in a way that made her heart fall to her feet and bounce back up.“From unassuming seed to stunning creature.Under the right conditions.”He lowered.
And his words hit her in the head like a hammer.
She ducked away from his kiss, grasping the prototype and pacing with it across the small room.“The right conditions!That’s what we need.But what are they?Is there a certain metal we should be using to make the device?A certain heat it should be fired at?A certain amount of lead to load into the chamber?”
He wandered off with a sigh as she put her questions to the page.When done, she stretched her lower back and sipped from the tea he’d poured for her.
A knock on the door preceded Mrs.Collins, who carried a small jar and a bottle.“Here’s the honey you asked for.And the vinegar.”She handed both to Apollo.“You seem awful fond of the flavors of late.”Her eyes narrowed.“Don’t use them all up.”
She left, and Apollo pushed various bits and bobs scattered across the tea table out of his way, searching for something.“Ah!There.”He pulled a small copper bowl out from under a notebook.It held a lemon and one long green stem from Governor Grimm.
“What’s this?”Sybil asked.
“You’ve run out of the potion I gave you, yes?”
Blood rushed to her cheeks.Baring her body to his gaze and touch was easier than talking about the potion he’d given her after their first encounter.Corked in a little brown bottle, it would, he’d said, keep her from conceiving.
“I have.”She peered into the bowl.“And these are the… ingredients?”
He nodded and pulled a knife from his pocket, one she’d helped him forge a few days ago with an elegant handle and sharp blade.He used it to cut the lemon open, then squeezed its juice into the bowl.
“Where did you find a lemon?”
“On a tree.”His tone dry as sand.
She elbowed his ribs.
With a grin, he said, “There was a lemon tree in this very room.I thought it was dead, but once I started tending everything in here, it perked up.”
“You have a talent for horticulture.”
He shrugged, squeezing the aloe leaf until it oozed.His fingers—long and lithe and sure… He knew well how to wield them.A tingle crept across her skin, and arousal bloomed low in her belly.A dribble of vinegar, a drop of honey—all into the bowl, except for a little drop of honey that now rested on his knuckle somehow.He wiped his cheek, and it transferred, the smallest, slickest slash across his cheekbone.He produced a whisk from… somewhere, and?—
He froze, those strong hands pausing just above the bowl.Then he dropped the whisk and lifted his gaze to her.“You’re staring awfully hard, princess.Want me to teach you how it’s done?You can make it yourself, then.”
She shook her head, unable to look away from the swipe of honey across his cheek.Her breasts felt hot and tight, and when he pressed the pad of his thumb into her lower lip, pulled it out from between her teeth, she released a sigh built of sun and need.
“Your cheeks are pink as roses,” he said.
“A-are they?”She placed the back of her hand on one.
He swept it away, replaced it with his palm.“Mm.Red as a little berry.Delicious enough to eat.”
Yes.“Eat.”She took his jaw in her hands and urged downward, closer, and with a spark of curiosity in his eye, he obliged.She could see the stubble on his chin, the tiny quirk upward on one side of his mouth, the lines that radiated out from the corners of his eyes.
And that bit of honey.
She popped up on tiptoe and placed a chaste kiss just over it.Then, on a soft inhalation, darted her tongue out to taste it.
He caught her wrists.“Sybil.”Her name a raspy growl.
“Yes?”She put as much honey into the single word as possible.
“I’m going to lie you down and do that to you.”
“Do what?”Each breath stuttered.
