Page 103 of Ungodly Rich

“I can’t believe you’re still using that thing,” her husband said behind her.

She turned to see Hephaestus at the closet door, arms crossed over his chest. He was still wearing his outfit from tonight’s family dinner, achecked button-down that made his brown eyes look a molten shade of gold. Aphrodite was suddenly, acutely aware that it was just the two of them in here. Eros was staying with Thalia in a room down the hall.

“Of course I use this bag,” she replied. “It’s one of your cleverest inventions, which is really saying something.”

Hephaestus flushed at the praise. “I just meant, it doesn’t look like anything special. I thought you might prefer the designer luggage covered in little VLs.” It was oddly endearing that he didn’t know Louis Vuitton.

“And support one of our direct competitors? I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said lightly. “Besides, sometimes humble appearances can be deceiving.”

Hephaestus drew in a breath, as if he wasn’t sure what Aphrodite had meant by that. She didn’t quite know, either.

She turned toward the door and Hephaestus stepped aside, letting her walk past him into the bathroom, all snow-white marble and crystal sconces. Rain still pounded against the window. The lights were dim; Aphrodite started to flick them on, only to realize that a candle had been lit.

And the bathtub was full of water, with red rose petals scattered over its surface.

“Did you…,” she asked, but Hephaestus looked as surprised as she was.

“The hotel staff must have drawn us a bath,” he explained. “Maybe they got confused and think thatweare the couple getting married?”

“It looks lovely.” Aphrodite adored a hot bath.

“No reason to let it go to waste.” Hephaestus retreated a step. “You should take a bath, relax.”

Aphrodite swallowed. And then she said, “You could join me.”

Hephaestus looked at her in surprise.

What was she thinking, asking her husband to climb into a bathtub with her? For all that Aphrodite was the goddess of sex, or of love (it changed depending on who you asked), her marriage didn’t involve intimacy in the bathtub.

Maybe it should.

This tension had been building between her and Hephaestus since London. And whatever it was, Aphrodite wanted to see it through.

“I’d like that,” Hephaestus replied, his voice low and husky.

Aphrodite’s heart skipped as she reached behind her back and unzipped her dress. It clung to her body for a moment and she had to peel away, the soft petal-pink column of it unfolding. It fell with a silken hiss at her feet.

Next to her, Hephaestus had unbuttoned his shirt. His chest gleamed like bronze in the flickering light of the candle. A dusting of dark hair traced over the muscles of his abdomen, guiding her eyes down his body. He was so tall, Aphrodite thought dazedly. So very large, with his broad shoulders and strong thighs. It would be a tight fit in the tub.

Hephaestus’s breath hitched as he stepped into the water. Aphrodite felt oddly reassured by the sound. He was always so calm, so self-assured; she liked thinking that she’d made him nervous, broken his hold on his self-control.

She settled in the tub in front of him, leaning her back against his chest, her head tucked below his throat. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, resonating like a drum. The water felt lukewarm by now, but a moment later, Aphrodite felt its temperature rising. Little jets of water began to massage her lower back.

Magic had many uses, but this was quite a good one.

“Aphrodite,” Hephaestus said hesitantly.

“Mmm?”

She felt so light and buoyant; her limbs seemed to float above the water’s surface. The ends of her long golden hair were already wet, drifting in the tub like a mermaid’s.

“Never mind,” her husband muttered.

Slowly—and rather inelegantly—Aphrodite twisted, rearranging her hips so that she was facing Hephaestus. Her legs were folded at the knees, and she was straddling his lap. Their faces had suddenly grown very close.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I just…I feel like you’ve been distracted lately.”