Page 76 of Going to Hell
It took longer than it should have for me to realize I wasn’t going anywhere. Breath heaving and water dripping down my face, I stopped struggling and stared at my skirt floating around both our legs.
My heart pounded under his left palm while the right one rested flat just below my bellybutton. Weighing me down. Pressing my backside against his hard length. My breathing hitched. Panic gripped me as hard as I clenched the edges of the tub.
He lifted his left hand, reaching up to gently wipe the hair from my face. I jolted forward, but the hand anchoring me against his hips didn’t budge. He simply returned his left palm to my breast and used insistent pressure until I leaned back against his chest.
Eyes wide, I trembled.
“Give us the release we both desire, Goddess. Take your payment and be done with your game.”
That was why he thought I’d offered to wash his back? As a prelude to their warped sex games?
“I thought you wanted me willing,” I said, my voice thready.
He tensed and plucked one of my hands from the tub edge.
“More than I want my next breath,” he murmured against my neck.
He set my hand on his leg, moving it like I was stroking my fingers along his skin. That act alone showed just how desperately he wanted me to touch him. No, not me. Persephone.
Even with adrenaline and fear coursing through me, I couldn’t stop the swell of pity.
“I’m not willing,” I said softly, “and anything you force now will be a lie.”
He growled in my ear and released me.
I planted my feet on the bottom of the tub and got out, dripping water everywhere, thanks to my wet dress.
Shaking and weak with relief, I faced yet another moment of harsh truth. Things weren’t going to get any better in Hell before I found my uncle. Hades thought I was Persephone, and he wanted me badly because of it. Her games had hopelessly fucked with his head, and I needed to figure out a way to deal with that or he was going to keep trying to take what I wasn’t willing to give.
One calming breath after another, I collected myself until I could speak. Then, I faced him.
“I may not be willing to have sex with you, but I am willing to finish washing your back if you’d like.”
The sullen look he gave me as he leaned forward once more would have been laughable if not for the reality of our situation. Poor Hades would never be touched by the woman he loved again. I wondered if he would ever realize that was a good thing. No more pain. No more suffering. Then again, I knew that loneliness sucked almost as much as suffering.
I picked up more soap, and instead of using the brush to apply it, I used my hands. Despite my recent scare, the slick feel of his skin under my palm was addicting, and I wasn’t sure if I was giving him the gentle touching he craved or that I craved as I washed him.
By the time my fingers were pruned, there wasn’t an inch of skin from his neck to his hips that I hadn’t smoothed my hand over.
Part of me wanted to keep touching, but I knew Hades’ infatuation with that would eventually lead us back to what he really wanted. So, I sat on my heels and looked around for a towel.
Hades reclined in the tub, looking a little sad and defeated again.
“What payment do you require?”
“A towel to dry my hands. And next time something softer to kneel on.”
His stunned expression just made me sadder for him.
“No trick. No game,” I said. “Just a towel, please.”
A stack of them immediately appeared beside me.
“You will do this again?” he asked as I dried my hands.
“Not to remove skin or as a prelude to, uh, a union. But if you promise I won’t end up in the bath again, I’ll consider it.”
“I swear.”
