Page 33 of The NemeSis
“Fuck it,” he growls and lowers his face to mine.
It’s not soft or gentle. This wasn't like the rom-coms I enjoyed watching late at night. Ares lips are on mine and all I can do is gasp in reaction to the eruption that fills me up inside and threatens to bubble over.
He swallows up the sound and deepens the kiss. His hand tightens in my hair, angling my head to give him better access. His tongue licks inside my mouth. I grip his jacket, holding on so he doesn’t disappear.
This kiss is everything, yet nothing like I imagined. It’s desperate and intense. It’s consuming. His tongue sweeps against my lower lip. How can something so forbidden feel so right?
That’s what this is. Forbidden. We shouldn’t be doing this. There’s a small—minuscule—part of me that realizes we’ve crossed that invisible line.
Caught up in his arms, I don’t realize we’re moving until the surrounding sounds drift farther away. He’s pulling me back through the maze, stopping every few feet to capture my lips again.
I feel like we’re caught up in a frenzy. All I want to do is have his lips on me forever. I moan softly and he growls in response. His hands are around me then at the back of my neck, then down again. As if I can feel him everywhere. He presses me even closer to him until I feel the hard line of his desire pressing into my stomach.
His lips leave mine, only to trail along my jaw. I shudder as his teeth graze my skin. His hand slides lower, cupping my ass and pulling me closer. A low groan escapes him.
The sound of laughter coming closer breaks the moment and I push back.
“Wait.” It comes out breathless.
His hands move to my waist, holding me still. I can’t tell if he wants to keep me at a distance or keep me from moving farther away.
“The party is over.” He swallows and lowers his arms before taking a step back.
“Okay.”
His hands clench together in tight fists at his sides. “I’ll walk you back.”
“Oh, okay.”
He turns his back to me but waits for me to walk up next to him before stepping forward. I brush my fingers across my lips. I can’t believe we just did that.
We can’t do that again.
Absolutely not.
Chapter Fourteen
ARES
I’ve never been good at waiting or thinking things through, especially when I was younger. Apollo always blamed my recklessness on being the impulsive younger brother. I realize there’s truth to that statement, but I’ve grown since then—I take more time making decisions these days.
Except when it comes to Kyra.
I can’t help the possessive asshole that comes out of me. Everything about her calls to me. She’s my sunshine mixed with a little hurricane. I physically ache for her, and I hate it. This isn’t a feeling I’ve felt before. I’m a man obsessed, and it’s only been two weeks of allowing her back into my life.
It’s why I’m pretending to be busy at my work laptop while standing at the kitchen island. Men are moving around me. Half a dozen strangers are assembling furniture and painting walls. And every fucking piece is something she picked out. Everything she suggested.
Her first few suggestions were fine, though a bit generic. She was sharing ideas she knew I would like for a bachelor pad. A few weeks ago, those ideas would’ve been perfect. It wasn’t until her eyes lit up with ideas on what she would do to the space if it were hers that I took more notice.
I paid attention.
It was like a switch had flipped because I realized then how badly I wanted her in my space. I wanted her to invade every corner of my life like she was my mind. Getting rid of the boyfriend was something that solved itself easily, and quickly. I was grateful it wasn’t messy, and he wasn’t an issue.
Kyra living in her sorority house was the bigger issue at the moment. It wasn’t going to work for me, not when I wanted—needed—her in my space. I know how important the Omegas were to her. She has responsibilities and loves being a legacy. I just need to come up with a plan.
There are more important things to her. Like the summer program. I could probably make a few phone calls, but I know she wouldn’t want that. She can also do it without my help. I see the determination on her face and the way her eyes light up when she talks about ancient history and exploring the places I’ve already been. It’s the same way I get excited every time I get to go back. I can never put into words the connection I feel walking the same paths I know someone else did over two thousand years ago, to feel connected in history like that and know that only time is the thing separating us.
She loves history, and I know just how to help her without going behind her back. I pull my phone out of my pocket and send a quick message to my assistant.
