But not as hard as the fact he was holding her like this, sharing a quiet moment that felt intimate.
Life-altering for them both.
He lifted his hand and brushed two fingers through her wavy raven hair, clearing a lock from her face so he could see it better. Gods, she was beautiful. More so now her make-up had been washed away, revealing her natural beauty. Stunning ice-blue eyes that glittered with faint silver stars. Long black lashes framing them. A subtly sloping nose he wanted to drop a kiss on. Full rosy lips that begged him to kiss her there instead.
He had never seen a woman as beautiful, as bewitching as her.
He smiled slightly.
Maybe that was his feelings doing the talking, placing her on that high pedestal for him to worship. He was sure all his brothers would say the same about their women.
She leaned back and he didn’t stop her, not when her fingers kept gliding downwards and arousal tightened his body, had his muscles tensing in a way that was sure to keep her eyes on his body and her mind on another round of lovemaking.
Her tempting lips pursed as her eyes dropped, following her hand. Her fingers encircled his navel. Her gaze flicked up to meet his.
“Is this your favour mark?” She traced one of the wavy beams of ink that arced towards his left hip.
The last time she had asked him that, he hadn’t answered her.
He nodded and glanced down, bit back a groan as he watched her slip her hand lower, to follow the beam that reached down towards his groin.
“Who is it from?” She teased the pointed tip of the beam, far too close to his stirring cock for him to focus on delivering an answer to that question. She seemed to sense it, because she dragged her hand back up and circled his navel, a lazy swirl that kept his blood at a low boil. “Who?”
He swallowed, shunned the hungers that rode him, and looked back into her eyes. “Apollo.”
“Apollo,” she repeated, her voice low and thoughtful. “Odd that a god of the sun would favour a god of something aligned with winter.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had said such a thing to him, and he shut it out, refusing to allow Penelope into this moment. He had loved her, but now that he was looking back, that love had been slow to come, had only manifested after he had discovered she had fallen pregnant.
And gods, that made him feel like a dick.
He had wanted to stand by her, and he would have spent the rest of his life devoted to her and their family if she hadn’t been taken from him, but the love he had felt for her was nothing like the feelings he had for Cass.
Those feelings made him see that what he had thought was love had been something born of obligation and a need to take responsibility rather than born of his heart.
If she hadn’t fallen pregnant, he would have drifted apart from her soon enough, moving on to another woman.
He hated thinking about her in that way, but it was the truth.
He had loved her, but he hadn’t been in love with her.
He stared at Cass, balancing on a precipice that felt dangerous, a fall in all directions.
Before a question could arise from his heart, he focused on what they had been talking about, using it to keep thoughts about his feelings at bay.
“According to my parents, Apollo saw the creativity in me, the ability to love art and music, and to create art too, and that was the reason he chose to give me his favour.” He looked down at his navel, at the sun that was a shade darker than his skin right now, all calm wavy beams. When his mood faltered, it darkened to black and the beams grew pointed and jagged.
“You are good at sculpture.” She pushed herself up on her left elbow and looked towards the door of the bedroom. “I noticed the marble statues in the garden.”
All his work.
“You got me.” He didn’t miss the look that flitted across her face, one that said she did have him, and in more than the way he had meant it.
He also didn’t miss the troubled edge that her eyes gained following it.
She had promised no talking about tomorrow, and he was trying not to think about it. It wasn’t going to happen. Not if he had any say in it. Cass was his and he was going to fight to keep her. He was going to do all in his power to convince her that this was where she wanted to be.
In his arms.
He tightened those arms around her and kissed her, savouring the softness of her lips against his, how she opened for him and teased his tongue with hers as she leaned into his kiss, seeking more.
Daimon groaned as she pressed her body against his, her warmth seeping into him, her softness enticing him. He lowered his hands, one claiming the small of her back as the other cupped her bare backside beneath the covers. He eased her closer, relished her sweet moan as her hips rocked forwards to meet his.
He broke away from her lips and kissed along her jaw, trailed his mouth down her throat and peppered it with kisses as he held her, kept her pinned against him, filled with a need to clutch her tighter and never let her go.
“This is nice,” she whispered and arched her head back, giving him better access to her throat. “I could get used to this… Waking in your arms. Being worshipped by you… Worshipping you.”
He groaned again and nuzzled her neck. “I could get used to this too… and it’s more than nice.”
She sighed and skimmed her hands up his shoulders and neck and
