Page 15 of Perfectly Matching Again

Erato—the devastatingly gorgeous deity—for the life of her had no idea what to do about these feelings, her own—which she decidedly did not have, thank you verymuch—or Demeter’s, who surely must simply have indigestion of something.

Settling for the latter, Erato nipped out of the bathroom, leaving the clearly distressed Goddess to herself. They had indulged at Dionysus’s, and who the Hell—sorry, Hades—knew what that fool put in his food. Definitely no quality control in his house.

But Demeter did not settle for number three of Erato’s above enumerated points and followed her out of the bathroom, turning the lights low and laying down silently on the left side of the bed.

Technically, that was Erato’s side. She said nothing and since she normally slept in the nude, tightened the robe around herself before lying down on the covers.

Her heart hammered in her ears. In the deafening silence of the room, in the immensity that was the California king, Erato felt alone with her thoughts. And with her hammering heart. Neither was pleasant company at the moment. Erato had assiduously avoided them both whenever she could.

Because in the dark and stillness, she had to confront that wretched list again. And add a number four to it.

Erato—the almighty seductress—would (probably, possibly, absolutely not certainly, thank you very much) give a lot to reach out and clasp Demeter’s still trembling hand lying just inches away from hers.

What that meant, Erato didn’t know. See point 1 on this list. Also see points 2 and 3 on this list. She desperately tried to cling to them, to no avail. The tremble of the graceful limb was barely there, yet the surface of the bed shook ever so slightly.

The possible and probable happened and Erato didn’t yet know what she’d have to give, but slowly scooted over and intertwined her fingers with the soft, for once cold ones of the Goddess of Harvest.

Demeter did not gasp, but Erato sensed it was a close call. She was beginning to learn that her bed fellow did not allow herself much expressionism. In fact, the way their Vegas encounter had proceeded, everything about Demeter signaled that it went against what she had established as her standard of behavior. And yes, she screamed in ecstasy—Erato smiled at the memory—but Erato also suspected it was a one off. An exception. She, the lowly muse, had been an exception.

The thought did not scare her as much as it should have. Plenty of mortals and immortals made an exception out of her. After all, she was gorgeous and sexy and outrageously good at what she did. And she did women of all ages, inclinations and creeds. So they made said exceptions for her all the time. But this one? This Goddess who was all about duty and order and diligence? Who was graceful and lovely and whose tentative smile lit something in Erato’s heart. This one was special.

Well, if being an exception did not scare Erato, the absolute idiocy of this last thought almost made her bolt out of bed. Only Demeter, anchoring her, fingers warming slowly in hers, managed to keep her still.

Lit something in Erato’s heart? What on Gaia’s green Earth was she thinking? She had a list. She had several amazing lists! Points 1, 2 and 3 were unimpeachable!

Then Demeter sighed and scooted a bit closer to her, their shoulders brushing now, their fingers intertwined, the luscious curls tickling Erato’s cheek and she forgot the lists, and the thoughts and Gaia’s green earth. Who cared?

She was holding the hand of the most beautiful woman. A woman who despite being rather mean to her—as an Ice Queenwould be—trembled in her arms and got possessive when others gyrated in her lap and scolded foolish drunkards who didn’t know who she was. Really, none of that was particularly healthy, but then Erato didn’t do healthy either, not to mention hearts and feelings and loveliness.

That something that had been lit in her heart, burned just a touch brighter.

When Demeter’s breathing evened out and her hand relaxed, Erato smiled like a completely smitten fool and turned on her side to watch the gorgeous features of the woman sleeping next to her. She was a total sap. But it was okay, since she had a list, and didn’t do feelings, plus Demeter would totally smite her if she ever found out, and if Demeter didn’t, then Hades or Hera surely would. So it was okay. She was off limits. In her sleep, Demeter squeezed Erato’s fingers and scooted even closer. Erato’s smile didn’t leave her face till morning.

7

WHERE TINY RUNNING SHORTS ARE DECLARED THE GREATEST HUMAN INVENTION (AND THE MUSE SWEATS)

Erato woke up covered by some sort of cloud. It smelled like earth after the rain, and also cherry blossoms. It felt like silk under her fingertips, and so she ran her hands up and down the soft expanse of said cloud and inhaled deeper.

The cloud sighed and burrowed into Erato’s shoulder, dark hair splaying over Erato’s face and chest?—

Whoa! Not a cloud.

“Demeter?”

The Goddess laying almost on top of Erato simply hugged her closer and made herself more comfortable on the muse. Not that Erato minded. Not at all. In fact, she didn’t even mind the warm knee that was fully pressing into her boxer clad crotch. As Demeter burrowed deeper, the knee made snugger contact. Erato tried to shift subtly, slowly, just far enough to breathe without her clit getting even more friction. Not that she needed much friction at this point. Having an armful of this particular Goddess was stimulating in and of itself, but the knee? She was both in heaven and hell simultaneously. An errant thought crossed her mind about Hades probably fainting again at this entire situation.

She stifled a giggle, but the action only brought Demeter’s leg closer to her center. This was getting out of hand. Erm, out of knee?

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