“I pray it is,” Penelope replied, though I sensed a hesitancy in her voice.
I pulled back to look at her. “What is it?”
“I just…” She glanced away. “I am not well versed in any of this.”
Of course. Penelope had only ever lain with Odysseus, and that had been ten summers ago now.
“I’ve never been with someone…likethisbefore,” I admitted, hoping my inexperience might ease her own.
“With a woman, you mean?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Does it feel…different?”
“It was always going to be different with you.”
Though “different” scarcely covered it, for this wasnothinglike those times before. With men, intimacy had always been aperformance, a hollow role I disappeared into where I ceased to exist. But here, with Penelope, it was real, all of it, and the thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.
“We can stop if this is too much,” I added as gently as I could. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not…comfortable with.”
Penelope shook her head. Then she drew in a breath, holding it tightly in her chest. As her hands reached for the fastenings at her shoulder, I felt my anticipation slice through me like the keen edge of a blade. Carefully, Penelope undid each one, letting her gown ripple to the floor, pooling around her feet.
I stared at her, bared before me, my mind scarcely able to comprehend such perfection. I thought she had unraveled me before, but this was truly my undoing—seeing her like this, dressed in nothing but silvery moonlight.
With trembling hands, I unfastened my own gown, letting it crumple beside hers. Penelope’s eyes widened slightly as her gaze dipped over me. For a while, we stood like that, not touching or speaking, just letting our eyes soak in the view they had been starved of for far too long.
My hand slipped into hers, but as I turned to lead her toward the bed, Penelope froze. Panic sparked through me. Had her doubts taken hold of her? Had I gone too far?
I kept staring straight ahead, too afraid to turn and risk seeing the regret stain Penelope’s eyes. Then I felt her fingers on my back, and I realized what had given her pause. My scars. Penelope had never seen them before, not up close like this. I had always been so careful to hide them from her.
She traced the length of each one in turn, fingers trembling.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered thickly.
I was about to reply, but then I felt her mouth following where her fingers had just traced, and everything inside me went quiet. It felt almost holy, the way she kissed each scar with such reverence, and I found my eyes closing as her lips soothed those old wounds, allowingthem to heal anew.
“We were so young,” she whispered mournfully.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw her gaze had grown distant.
“We let the past take so much from us,” I murmured. “Don’t let it take this moment.”
She nodded, her eyes focusing on mine once more. Taking her hand again, I pulled her down to the bed, shifting us so we were lying side by side, the heat of our bare bodies melting together.
I took a moment to simply look at her. She was like a work of art, all those elegant curves and angles. A statue etched with exquisite, painstaking detail.
“You are so beautiful,” she said, stealing the words from my own lips.
I kissed her in reply, feeling her heartbeat flutter against my chest, harmonizing with my own.
“Can I touch you?” I whispered, and she smiled, nodding.
I started at her lips, tracing my fingers down and revisiting all those maddening places I had spoken of just before, then venturing farther still. I felt her flesh pebble beneath my touch, her breath catching when I brushed particularly sensitive places—the underside of her breasts, the dip where her waist met her hips, the stretch of skin beneath her navel.
I was propped up on my elbow now, and I bowed my head so I could kiss her again. This kiss was slower, deeper. I did not want to rush this. I wanted to savor every moment for as long as I could, stretching out each sacred second. I would’ve traded my very soul with the God of Time if it meant I could make this night last a lifetime.
As my hand moved farther down, I lifted my gaze to Penelope’s, looking for any sign of reluctance. But there was only an intense longing in those eyes, a need so intoxicatingly potent I felt a little dazed at the mere sight of it.
