Page 90 of The Truth About Myths
The scent of roasted lamb and spices rose from her dinner, and Isabel's throat moved with a greedy swallow.
Henrique sprawled by her left and ignored her protests that he was too close. What should be his first question? He wanted her to miss it, so she could have an excuse to eat. But she would see through his ploy. How outlandish that Isabel's cunning worked against her.
He cleared his throat. "Why did Eros forbid Psyche from looking at him?"
"He wanted to protect her from his jealous mother.” She glanced into the fire, and her shoulders sagged. “Jealousy has a way of ruining everything."
Henrique didn't like the sadness in her voice and touched her foot. Her breath caught, and she tried to pull away, but he kept an easy caress, trailing his finger from her heel to her arch.
The next question came easily, as he had been experiencing it vividly since he met Isabel. "Who was the Greek king cursed by the gods to stand below an apple tree, and whenever he reached for the fruit, the branches lifted it from his grasp?"
Her eyes widened. She didn't know! Henrique wanted to scream in triumph.
She shifted closer to the table, and Henrique ceased her momentum to pull her across his lap. With a hand circling her waist, he kept her in place. With the other, he pulled lamb meat from the bone and offered it to her.
"No cutlery? Savage." She glared at him, her gaze devouring the meat.
Henrique fed her. She shut her eyes, her head falling on his chest. The little moan of bliss she let out resonated inside him.
The next time he offered her food, she closed her lips over his fingers. A bolt of lust speared him, so strong it left him intoxicated.
"Tantalus had been the king cursed by the gods to be forever tempted by the apples. The word tantalizing came from him." Henrique could relate to the poor mortal, for with each bite, he felt the temptation cursing through his bloodstream.
When replete, she drank the muscat wine and reclined over the pillows. She didn't bother to fold her legs beneath her. The robe slipped, revealing her knees and the creamy perfection of the top of her breasts. If she but opened her knees an inch, he would see the patch of brown hair above her mound. Rock hard, Henrique grabbed a peach and sunk his teeth into the fruit.
She gazed at him under sooty eyelashes. "What is the theme of Gilgamesh's myth?"
Henrique shifted closer to her. Before she could protest, he placed her foot on his lap. She lifted on her elbows, watching his movement with a furrowed brow.
He massaged it from the arch to her little fingers and back. He felt a knot under her sole and pressed delicately on it. She sighed, and her head rested over her shoulder.
Henrique brushed the robe further up her legs, caressing her calves. "Does it have one? I thought the gods sent a mythical friend to the unruly prince so he would stop claiming prima nocte rights on his subjects' daughters."
She had eaten. Henrique should leave the room before he did something they would regret. But her feet were not enough. He wanted more and tugged her closer until her thighs were atop his lap. A blush colored her neck and cheeks. He breezed a caress from her knee to mid-thigh. The robe opened further, revealing her pubic hair. He must be a masochist because he pulled her left leg slightly to the side. The robe gaped open, and the seam rested atop her mound, displaying the right petal of her labia. Henrique groaned, his fingers itching to reach her sex. Would she be moist for him?
"The theme is…" She paused as his hand came tantalizingly close to her heat. Closing her eyes, she licked her lips. "Transcendence isn't in heaven, glimpsed only after you reach immortality. It is found on Earth. By the deeds you leave behind."
He stilled his hand on her leg. Deeds? How he felt near Isabel had nothing to do with deeds. "Isabel—"
"You owe me a piece of clothing."
"Of course. Come get your war spoils then." He opened his arms but made no move to remove his coat.
She knelt in front of him. Henrique stopped breathing. Placing both hands above his chest, she burrowed her hands under his coat. Her scent invaded his nostrils, not of linen and silk and layers of garments, but of warm skin, soap, and a flowery fragrance wafting from her hair. She held his jacket close to her chest.
His head swam as if he had drunk a casket of port and caroused with Bachus all night. "How did Zeus seduce Hercules' mother?" He placed his hands on her hips.
"That's not fair. I never touched Ovid's erotic poems."
"Zeus fell in love with Alcmene, but the princess was faithful to Amphitryon, her husband. So, while he warred with a neighboring tribe, Zeus took the form of Amphitryon," Henrique said, tugging Isabel closer.
"How convenient."
Henrique stilled. "We should stop." He had gone too far already, damn it.
"No. I want to know the rest."
Henrique exhaled. "Zeus visited Alcmene. When she disrobed for him, he was so entranced the Earth went preternaturally still."
