“Apollo?”
I shake my head sharply. “Let’s move on to the next room.” I don’t expect to find anything during this search, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know better than to make assumptions. We have to check every room we can get access to, if only to eliminate them as possibilities.
We slip back into the hall and start for the fourth door. It takes me several seconds to realize the sound I’m hearing isn’t our footsteps. Someone is coming up the stairs. They’re moving fast enough that we won’t have a chance to make it back to our room.
I don’t think. I wrap an arm around Cassandra’s waist and drag her through the fourth sitting-room door. To her credit, she doesn’t make a sound. A quick glance around the room doesn’t show much to hide behind. There’s only the couch, facing away from the door.
I haul her around the couch and press her down onto it. All someone has to do is walk fully into the room and look around the edge of the couch to see us, but hopefully that won’t happen. Still, I press my hand to Cassandra’s mouth and lean down. “Someone’s coming.”
Her only response is to shiver.
Which is right around the time I realize that I’m cradled between her thighs. It’s like my mind shorts out and my body takes over. I have absolutely no intention of moving, but I thrust against her, just a little. Her breath catches against my palm and she whimpers.
That whimper stops me short.
I stare down at her in the darkness. The faint light from the window doesn’t reach us here on the couch. The shadows are too deep to reach her expression, but I’ve just manhandled her in the darkness and now I’ve pinned her to the couch.
What am I doing?
I don’t have a chance to figure it out because the footsteps stop outside the door. I strain to hear them over my racing heart. Did the person see us duck in here? Or are they going to check all the rooms?
The door opens softly. I hold my breath. Beneath me, I can feel Cassandra doing the same. The seconds tick past, but the person doesn’t step into the room. Finally, a small eternity later, the door closes softly and the footsteps retreat. They pause at each door, though.
Looking for us?
Or just doing a nightly round since the cameras are down?
I don’t shift my hand from Cassandra’s mouth until I can no longer hear the footsteps. “We should be good.”
Except my adrenaline doesn’t fade. Not when she shifts against me, her breasts pressed to my chest and her thighs so soft around my hips. My brain glitches again and I thrust against her. Again.
She makes that delicious little whimpering sound. Gods, I want to bottle that sound up. I want to do whatever it takes to make her do it again.
“Apollo,” she breathes.
Now is the time to move, to reclaim some distance between us. It’s the honorable thing to do, and I pride myself on being an honorable man.
Instead, I settle down more firmly on top of her. “Cassandra.”
She shivers and shifts a little, her thighs tensing on either side of my hips. “You are very, very hard.”
“Considering the fact that I have you beneath me, I’m surprised that’s all I am.” I shift closer when I should be moving away, until my lips brush her ear. Until I can whisper, “Please ignore it. I’m sorry.”
“Are you really sorry?” She shifts again.
This time, there’s no mistaking her movement. She’s rolling her hips a little, rubbing herself against my cock. I drop my head to the curve of her shoulder. “If you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to embarrass myself by coming in my pants.”
She doesn’t stop. If anything, my attempt at control emboldens her further. “You want me.”
“Of course I want you.” I’m speaking too sharply for all that I match her low tone, but she’s rubbing her pussy on me, and it takes everything I have to hold perfectly still and not grind against her. “But you’re my employee and it won’t be appropriate to make you feel like you had to do something you didn’t want to because of an imbalance of power.” It’s hard to keep my voice down, to whisper to keep this conversation just between us. To not potentially draw the attention of whoever is roaming the halls tonight.
She goes still for a moment. I both curse and praise myself in equal measure for causing that delicious torment to cease. But then Cassandra surprises me by laughing softly. I lift my head and glare down at her, not that she can see my expression. “What’s so funny?”
“In what world would I give a fuck about our so-called power imbalance? I’m quitting in six days. You don’t hold any power over me, Apollo.” She arches up a little, pressing her breasts more firmly against my chest. Her lips brush my jaw. “Unless you want to. Only in the bedroom, of course.”
“Cassandra.” I don’t know if I’m telling her to stop it or commanding her to continue.
Her laugh is low and downright sinful. But she doesn’t start rocking against me again. Instead, she seems to consider something. I find myself holding my breath while I wait for her to speak. Finally, she says, “Is the only thing holding you back that you don’t want to take advantage of me?”
I should lie. It’s the safe thing to do. I’m afraid to hope I’m correctly anticipating where she’s going with this. Even as I tell myself not to, I answer honestly. “Yes.”
“You want me,” she repeats.
“Cassandra, I’ve wanted you for years.” I don’t exactly mean to say it. I’ve tread so carefully around her for a very long time, always painfully aware of her position within Olympus and her desire to keep as far away from the Thirteen and their political games—from us—as possible.
But I like Cassandra. It crept up on me slowly, but that’s how it works with me. Emotions and caring come first, and desire follows. How could I not care for her? She’s smart and savvy and prickly, and she might not think I’ve noticed all the sacrifices she’s made for her sister, but how could I spend any amount of time around her with falling, at least a little bit?
Shock stills her, but not for long. “Gods, Apollo.” She exhales in a shaky laugh. “You’re serious.”
It’s too late to walk it back now. Besides, I don’t want to lie to her. “Yes.”
“You know what?” She eases back to the couch, opening up the tiniest bit of distance between us. My arms shake with the desire to close it, but I force them still. Cassandra rewards me a heartbeat later when she snakes her hands between our bodies and presses her palm to my stomach. “I’m only in Olympus for another week.”
“I’m aware,” I grit out.
She strokes me with her fingertips almost idly, as if she doesn’t care about the very real danger of me losing it from this touch alone. “What if we…made it real? The sex, I mean. Not the dating for obvious reasons.”
Disappointment I have no right to feel takes root in my chest. Of course she wouldn’t want to date me for real. Asking something like that is absurd; as she said, she’s leaving in a week. Inviting her to be my girlfriend in any real way during that time is unfair.
If this were a month ago—a week ago—I wouldn’t say yes. I would tell her that I want all of her or nothing at all. That I don’t operate like that; I don’t have casual sex with people I don’t care about. Sex means something to me. Cassandra means something to me. She has for some time.