Page 68 of The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities

“About?” I pressed, my cheeks burning.

He exhaled, relinquishing. “I don’t want to hurt you, Nepheli. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my life, and I don’t want you to be one of them.”

“Is this what I am? A bad decision?”

He looked conflicted, yet his hands, as if they had a mind of their own, skidded down to my hipbones. “You’ve no idea how impossible it is to resist you when you’re looking at me like that, darling.”

“Really? I didn’t realize I had such power over you,” I drawled, emboldened by his words and the look of absolute surrender on his face. I traced with my fingertips the neckline of his shirt, my eyes following the hypnotic play of his muscles beneath the flimsy fabric.

His head dropped back. His eyes drifted upward. I fought with the urge to tilt forward and bring my lips to the exposed column of his throat as it bobbed again and again. “Fuck, Nepheli, you’re the sensible one here,” he growled. His forehead fell to mine, his fingers digging deeper into my hips. “Don’t let me touch you.”

I licked my lips, my heart thrumming in my ears. Fast. So fast. “What will happen if you touch me?”

He groaned under his breath as he brought my body flush with his. A tiny gasp escaped me as I felt his hardness pressing up against my lower abdomen. I must have lost my mind a little because I found myself grinding on him, desperate for some friction. Here, in this strange, warm room, I blurred into him. And it didn’t scare me. It didn’t scare me at all.

“I’ve been a terrible influence on you, darling,” he rasped.

“I don’t think so,” I sighed, my chest caving into his. “I’m hardly acting like an inconsiderate, arrogant, heartless brute.”

“You’re acting reckless.”

Perhaps I was. But I was glad that I wasn’t all up in my head for once. I felt brightly, alarmingly immersed in this moment, trying to absorb it all. “I’m in the middle of an adventure. There’s no better time for recklessness,” I decided.

His eyes dropped to my lips again. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have the heart to do this properly.”

I smiled. “Then do it improperly.”

Suddenly, I was spinning. The small of my back hit the cool edge of the counter, and Apollo caged me in between, his body before me as hard and unwavering as a wall.

“Tell me this is wrong,” he demanded. “Tell me you hate me. I’m horrible. Tell me to get my hands off you.”

I rose to my toes and brought my lips as close to his as our height difference allowed. “Kiss—”

He kissed me.

Apollo kissed me and lit a fire in my bones.

His hand took over my jaw, and his mouth collided with mine—all indelicate demands and imperative requests. He asked my lips to open, and they obeyed. He asked my tongue to follow his, and it obliged. He asked my head to fall back in his hand so he could slant his mouth over mine and deepen the kiss, and my head, without hesitation, slipped into place, a surrender complete.

He kissed me fast, hard, possessively, one hand lacing through my hair, the other sliding down around my waist. He kissed me like a starved man, a madman, a man who’d do anything to never stop kissing me. And I had to reciprocate. I had to tug at his shirt and bite down on his lip and stroke my tongue over the seam of his mouth, andtaste him, taste him, taste himuntil the taste became an indelible experience in the notepad of my senses. He smelled just like the first day we met in the Shop: spice and woodsmoke and cold wind. It made me a little mad. Everything about him made me mad. His scent, his lips, his demanding,perfecthands.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him harder, sweeping my tongue over his until my lips felt bruised and he was grunting in my mouth. His sounds reverberated through me and weaved into my bloodstream. Now I knew he’d be a part of me forever.

His arm around my waist dipped to my hips and pulled me up to him so he could kiss me without bending down, not allowing that small shred of space to exist between our bodies. I felt dizzy and fizzy, like I was made of effervescent stars, and when his other hand tightened in my hair to angle my head back for better access, shock and pleasure exploded behind my eyes. His mouth fell hot and wild on my neck, kissing a greedy path back to my lips. With a deep groan, he teased the seam of my mouth with his tongue before plunging inside again.

I was so perfectly surrendered to him that I couldn’t feel the pleasurable burn of his fist in my hair anymore. Everything he did felt sweet and tender. Even the terrible things.

I slanted forward and brought my palms to his hard chest to steady myself as my knees wobbled, and he straightened too, lowering both of his hands to my backside, following me, chasing each of my movements as if he couldn’t allow me to get away.

He gripped me harder over my skirts, pushed his tongue deeper into my mouth, and this time, I was the one who couldn’t hold back a moan.

He broke the kiss to check on me. His eyes were as black as the night. “Did I hurt you?” he panted against my lips.

I shook my head, struggling for breath. “No. I want you like this.”

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