We’re close enough that I can feel her warmth, and my mind travels to the memory of that night I touched her in this very bed, when I was about to make her mine.
Don’t think about that now, Ares.
But how can I not? I want her so badly that I clench my hands so I don’t try to reach for her. I turn around until I am on my back because I need to stop looking at her.
I close my eyes, and I’m surprised when I feel her crawl toward me. She slips her arm around my waist and rests her head on my shoulder, hugging me sideways. My heart is racing and I’m embarrassed that now she can hear it.
This is what I need.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispers, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Greek God.”
I smile like an idiot.
“Good night, Witch.”
FORTY
The New Awakening
- RAQUEL -
A feeling of warmth and fullness comes over me when I open my eyes to find Ares asleep next to me. Something as simple as him being the first thing I see when I wake up can make me sigh and smile like an idiot.
He’s lying on his back, his face slightly turned toward me. His black hair is messy, his long eyelashes caressing his cheekbones. He is so beautiful, but I feel like I’ve already moved beyond his looks, and I can see the boy behind that perfect physique. The boy who doesn’t know how to handle his emotions, who tries not to show weakness to anyone, who is playful when he’s not sure what to do, and cold when he thinks he’ll get hurt.
Anyone meeting Ares for the first time would say he’s the perfect guy. When in reality, for me, he’s been like an onion.
I know, that’s a strange choice of words, and yet it’s appropriate. Ares has layers, just like an onion, and only with time and patience have I peeled them back to reveal the sweet boy who told me he loved me last night.
I couldn’t tell Ares that I love him too. The endless struggle to reach his heart has caused me so much pain. With every layer I peeled back, I lost a piece of me. I still have wounds that haven’t healed. And there’s a part of me that is upset, not with Ares, but with myself for all that I lost for him.
I shouldn’t be here. I should have told him to fuck off long ago. However, I can’t lie and say that I don’t feel anything for him anymore, that I don’t feel my stomach tickle, and that I don’t stop breathing when he looks at me. I can’t say that I don’t feel completely happy waking up next to him.
Stupid love.
The dragon tattoo looks so good on his smooth skin. Uneasily, I raise my hand and trace my finger across his tattoo. My eyes travel down his arm, and I can’t help but stare at his abs. At some point during the night, Ares took off the bathrobe, and I’m not complaining. The sheet only covers him from the waist down, and I feel like a pervert licking my lips.
My hormones are raging, and if it weren’t for the fact that Ares was so depressed last night, I wouldn’t have let him stay, because this is too much temptation. I stare at his lips and remember that night he gave me oral sex, how I clutched the sheets, how I moaned, how it felt.
Stop it, Raquel! You’re going to end up attacking him.
One . . . Two . . . Three . . .
Come on, self-control, I need you to recharge.
Mentally slapping my hormones, I withdraw my hand and sigh. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought. Ares is too tempting, even in his sleep. I get comfortable, resting my face on my hand to watch him like the stalker I am.
And then he opens his eyes, surprising me. Having him this close, I can see how deep and beautiful the blues of his eyes are. I stay still, waiting for his reaction. Ares hasn’t been the best when it comes to us waking up together—he’s run away both times—so I prepare myself for the worst.
My mother says that pessimists live a better life because they’re always prepared for the worst, and, when the worst doesn’t happen, their joy is doubled. I’ve never agreed with her, but today I might consider her point. I’m so ready to see Ares get up and give me excuses to leave that when he doesn’t, my heart races. And then the idiot Greek god does what I least expect.
He smiles.
As if he wasn’t beautiful enough just waking up with his hair pointing in different directions, looking vulnerable, the fool offers me a smile so genuine that I feel like I’m dying here.
Double joy.
“Good morning, Witch,” he whispers, stretching. I stare like a fool as the muscles in his arms and chest flex.
Virgin of abs, creator of this being, have mercy on me.
Ares pulls off the sheet and stands up; he’s only in boxers, so I can see a lot more than I should. He turns to me, tousling his hair.