Page 44 of Raising Hell
CHAPTEREIGHT
Although Hades hadn’t worna shirt since freeing himself from his chains, I was far from used to seeing his bare chest. I was simply used to ignoring it. With his arms spread wide in an invitation, it was impossible not to see the breadth of his shoulders or the corded display of muscle in his arms. Or how the light glinted off his smooth, golden pectorals and the dusky color of his nipples. His abs danced with each breath he took, drawing my focus down.
He was beauty itself.
I wanted to touch every inch of his skin. My fingers twitched with my need. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My gaze continued to sweep down his torso, past the slight indent of his belly button, and to that ridge of muscle where his stomach met his hip.
Then lower still.
I’d glimpsed him in what qualified as a mirror here, and that peek had inaccurately hinted at his size. Granted, he’d been relieving himself at the time and not standing at attention like he was now. That hungry need I’d felt for him in the past faded as I stared.
What he’d said moments ago made so much more sense. Persephone had blinded herself to Hades' physical form because he’d hurt her with what he was packing.
And he wanted to use it again. On me.
Face flushed scarlet, I tore my gaze from his open display and stared at the ceiling.
“I get that everyone here is very comfortable with their nudity, but I’m not. Can you put your pants on, please?”
He caught my chin and forced me to meet his gaze.
“Tell me my form pleases you,” he said softly. “Tell me that is desire I see in your gaze.”
“Yes. Desire for pants. Please. It feels like my face is on fire.”
He took in the color staining my cheeks and leaned in to brush his lips over the heat.
“As you have granted the others a new beginning, grant me the same. Let us start anew. I, too, vow not to repeat past mistakes.”
“Pants,” I rasped, feeling myself falling under his spell.
He lightly kissed his way across one cheek to my ear. His teeth caught my earlobe, and I shivered.
“Tell me that is not revulsion.”
“Pants,” I murmured.
His hands covered mine, bringing attention to the fact that I’d set them on his chest at some point and that I was leaning into him to give him better access.
“I already wear them,” he said between nibbles. “But say the word, and I will rid us both of these material barriers so you can touch me as you will.”
“No.” I turned my head, gasping for air and clarity. The need to wrap myself around him clawed at me so much that I couldn’t move away for several breaths. He didn’t press me again as I struggled to subdue the hunger I felt.
When I finally did step back, he let me go.
“I’m not her,” I said desperately. “I’m Ashlyn. You’re seeing what you want to see, not what’s really in front of you.”
“I see what’s in front of me, and she is a gift of sweet, captivating softness. Give yourself to me, Ashlyn. Allow me to worship you.”
I turned away from him and fought not to fan my face.
“It’s been a really long and stressful day. I’m not ready for any worshipping; I’m ready for sleep. If we stay in this room, will I find rest, or will you continue to press me for what I’ve already told you I’m unwilling to give?”
While the message was harsh, my careful words weren’t, and he didn’t react in anger.
“You will find rest.”
He moved toward the bed and pulled back the cover, a silent invitation and promise that he meant what he said.
