He pushes my shoulders and separates us gently, forcing me to face him. I swallow thickly and look up at him. I’m surprised to see a beautiful smile on his lips and tenderness radiating from his eyes. His hand takes a lock of my hair and tucks it behind my ear.
“You are beautiful.”
It’s the second time he tells me, but it still takes my heart by surprise, and my pulse races. He opens his lips to say something, but then hesitates and closes them again.
What do you want to tell me, Greek God?
This is the first time I’ve felt close to him. I know it sounds strange, but the other times we’ve been together, when we’ve finished doing it, I felt that he was so far away, so out of my reach. Sharing your body with someone isn’t the same as being close with them, I’ve learned. I raise my hand and caress his cheek, his skin is so soft . . . he closes his eyes, looking vulnerable and beautiful.
I love you . . .
Those words get stuck in my throat, making me lower my hand. He opens his eyes, the question of why I stopped touching him evident in his face.
Because touching you makes me want to say something that would scare you. And I don’t want to ruin the moment.
I smile at him and get up to rush to the bathroom. I take a shower, and my stomach growls in protest, the early morning sex has left me exhausted and hungry. Ares knocks on the bathroom door.
“I brought you some shorts and a T-shirt, they’re Marco’s, but it’s better than going out in your vomit clothes.”
I cringe at the thought. I open the door a little and pull the clothes out of his hands. They’re too big for me, but I’m not complaining. When I look in the mirror, a shriek leaves my lips. A pink and purple mark decorates my neck.
A hickey!
Angrily, I fling open the door. Ares is sitting on the bed with the towel wrapped around his naked hips. Pressing my lips together, I give him a murderous look. He raises an eyebrow and I point to my neck.
“Are you serious? A hickey?”
Ares smiles and is about to say something when someone knocks on the door. Marco’s voice sounds on the other side.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Ares answers.
“Come down for breakfast, we ordered delivery.”
I look at Ares. I don’t want to be clingy or bother him, but I don’t know if I should stay or leave. Ares stands up and walks toward me.
“We’ll be down in five minutes,” he tells Marco. He stops in front of me, gives me a short kiss, and heads to the bathroom.
Am I dreaming? Ares is being cute after having sex. Is he on drugs? Did he hit his head on a rock?
When Ares comes back, I use his phone to let Dani know that I’m okay, and I tell her to call Yoshi to make sure he’s safe. We head downstairs, and I can’t help the nerves that come over me. I know Ares’s group of friends, but I’m not yet familiar with them. The only moment we’ve shared wasn’t exactly perfect. I remember clearly how I danced for Marco, Ares’s jealous reaction, and Luis and Gregory’s laughter.
My hair is in a high ponytail, and I feel a little uncomfortable in Marco’s clothes. I hesitate midway down the stairs. Ares seems to notice, and he takes my hand, giving me a look over his shoulder that reassures me that everything will be fine.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, the first person I see is Luis, sitting on the couch massaging his forehead and eating. Gregory is lying on the large couch, his forearm over his eyes. The brunette I saw last night is sitting next to him, caressing his arm. Marco is standing by the fireplace with his hands on his chest. His eyes meet mine and a crooked smile forms on his lips. The food is on the little table in the middle of the furniture in plastic containers with steam coming out. It must have just arrived.
“I almost left you without any eggs,” Luis comments, eating desperately.
Gregory looks up.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” I wave at him.
“Hello.”
I’m surprised to see how neat and tidy the room is. Remembering last night’s mess, I wonder how it got clean so fast.
After we finish eating, Ares and I walk out of there, saying goodbye to his friends, which relieves me more than I want to admit. I still don’t feel comfortable with them, and, to be honest, I don’t feel completely comfortable with Ares either. Despite being intimate with him, there are still those awkward silences between us.
Ares guides me to his car to take me home. He gets in and I do the same. It’s a beautiful, modern SUV, but it’s nothing compared to the driver. Ares puts on his sunglasses and looks like a model ready for a photo shoot. He’s wearing jeans and a white shirt that he probably borrowed from Marco. On his right hand, a nice black watch adorns his wrist. He starts the car and turns, catching me staring at him like an idiot.