Marry Eros.
I might laugh if I had the breath for it. I knew he was attractive. I have eyes in my head. Of course, I knew he was attractive. Knowing still didn’t prepare me for the force of his personality when he turns all his attention in my direction. He’s not warm—I don’t think he’s capable of true warmth—but the sheer sexuality he exudes is enough to melt all my logic away to base need.
The reason I jump every time he touches me isn’t because I find the contact repulsive. It’s the exact opposite. Every time his fingers brush me or he wraps his arm around me, I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning.
He wants to have sex.
He wants to sleep together.
Being self-aware means I know all my weaknesses with the same thoroughness that I know my strengths. I am smart and savvy and excellent at crafting a public image for myself. I am also lonely and exhausted and not very good at separating sex from emotion. I learned that with my first boyfriend and took the lesson to heart. Hooking up casually might be for other people, but I’ll never achieve it. I get too entangled. As a result, I have to carefully vet anyone I’m interested in, which is why my romantic life has been relatively barren the last year or so. If I can’t trust a person to really be into me—instead of either trying to curry favor with my mother or attempting to use me in some other way—then I can’t afford to sleep with them and have my logical brain sidelined.
I’ll need every bit of logic and foresight and craftiness I am capable of to survive this marriage with Eros. I can’t afford to misstep in a way that will bring my guard down.
No matter how attracted I am to him.
I close my eyes and straighten. Okay, I’ve made that decision. Now I just need to stick to it. I can do this. I’ve been dealing with strong personalities since I was born; that label fits everyone in my family and all the people I’ve met living in Olympus. I’ll just handle Eros the same way I’d handle everyone else. All it requires is finding the right angle to leverage in order to get Eros to do what I want.
To shift the power of this partnership in my direction, at least a little.
With that in mind, I head to the door and open it… Only to find Eros stretched out on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of lounge pants. I stop short. He was handsome in a tux and perfection in an expensive gray suit. He shouldn’t be able to get better than perfection. It’s not logical in the least, but somehow Eros in lounge pants is so much worse. He’s barefoot.
I stare at his feet. They’re nice feet, I think? I’m not exactly a person who has strong opinions about feet, but this casual vulnerability symbolizes a kind of intimacy that has every alarm in my head blaring a warning. “What are you doing?”
“It’s late. I’m tired.” He pats the bed next to him, the muscles in his arm flexing, which draws my attention to how nice his chest is, which leads me down…
I jerk my gaze away from his hips. “We still have to talk.”
“We’ll talk in the morning. There’s nothing left to say tonight.” I can’t really see his blue eyes from here, but there’s a set to his mouth that tells me this isn’t a battle I’m going to win. Eros pats the bed again, this time in a blatant command. “Come here, Psyche.”
I’m going to spend a significant amount of time sleeping next to him. I suppose it’s logical to start tonight. “Normally I sleep naked.” Gods, why did I just say that out loud?
“Normally, so do I. However, you’ve taken sex off the table for the time being, so I think it’s prudent to keep some clothing in place.”
Prudent. I swallow down a borderline hysterical laugh and pad to the side of the bed. I know it’s all in my head, but the closer I get to him, the thicker the air seems around me. Whether it’s pulling me in or pushing me away is up for debate. I reluctantly undo my jeans. I might be too exhausted to fight him on sleeping arrangements, but there’s one thing I can’t let slide. “Correction: I’ve taken sex off the table permanently.”
“It’s open for discussion.”
“It’s really not.” It can’t be. I slide out of my jeans, achingly aware of how intensely Eros watches me. Getting anything close to naked with a new person is awkward and makes me feel so fucking vulnerable in a way I hate. And that’s with someone I trust enough to get physical with. I brace myself as I look at his face, not sure what to expect. I’ve seen the people Eros surrounds himself with. They are all the peak of what Olympus considers physical perfection. Thin bodies. Flawless skin. Beautiful in a very specific way.