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From nearby came a quiet inhalation. I peeked over the side of the sofa and found Pollux, asleep on the floor.
Eyes closed, mouth slightly open, one arm under his head, he slept. A blanket only half covered his body, and I wondered if he was the one who had tucked me in. Peering around quickly to make sure we were alone, I took advantage of the time to study him.
He wasn’t an overly expressive man, but seeing him like this, relaxed for once, I could make out the lines around his eyes, across his forehead, and next to his lips. Dark scruff marred his cheeks, chin, and neck, darker than I’d seen it. Probably because he’d been following me across the country and didn’t have time to shave.
My fingers itched to trace the deep grooves across his forehead, and down the long nose that had a bump, right between his eyes.
Pollux’s features were uneven, and rugged, but undeniably handsome in a way that was purely masculine. Whereas Paris and Orestes still had an air of youthfulness, Pollux had seen some shit.
Been through some shit, too, I imagined. His past was much more of a mystery than the other four, who were central figures in the Trojan War. Pollux was much more on the periphery. He was more of a secondary character—brother of Helen, twin of Castor, son of Zeus.
A slight snore left his lips, and I smiled. I liked seeing him like this. At ease.
I shifted, turning more on my side and reaching out one hand. In the time since he’d appeared in my class, his hair had gotten long enough to fall across his forehead, but I stopped myself before I touched him.
It wasn’t right, touching him without his permission when he was asleep and couldn’t stop me.
As if he could feel my hand above his face, his eyes opened. I pulled it back quickly, but he stopped me.
In that moment, I was trapped. My gaze. My hand in his. He pulled it closer and closer to his face, and brought my wrist to his lips.
Breath caught, I watched his eyes flutter closed and his nostril flare as he sucked in a breath.
Then his lips were on my skin. It was such a light touch, like snowflakes melting on my cheeks, but it burned. He kissed my wrist, my palm, and then brought my hand to his cheek. Inching to the edge, I rested my hand there, thumb trailing over his cheek bone, fingers grazing the edge of his jaw.
We just looked at each other.
His smile was slow, and his green eyes warmed until they were as bright as the English fields on a summer day.
“Okay, then,” he whispered.
There must have been a matching smile on my own lips, because his gaze flicked down. Eyes on my mouth, he pushed himself to sitting. He was tall enough that he could lean over the couch, and still be a head above me.
Green eyes lifted to mine, and he raised his eyebrow in question. I wanted him to kiss me. So much had happened that he had been a part of—an intricate part of—and it connected us in a way neither of us had explored.
I wanted to explore it.
Men had kissed me before. I’d even had sex, and when I thought back to those moments, they were rushed, impersonal, and disappointing. But each time, I had run through my mind the pros and cons of taking such a step.
I didn’t do that now.
I didn’t want to talk about what we were doing, or how we’d feel afterward. There was the moment, and wanting to feelnow.
Moving my hand from his face to the back of his neck, I urged him to close the distance. His palm was warm where he rested it on my cheek, and he slid it until his hand curled around my throat.
My eyes closed and then his lips were on mine. Warm. Strong. At first, he kept it light, brushing his closed mouth over mine before drawing back.
He must have felt my pulse racing beneath his thumb. I could feel it. My heart pounded and my stomach was a mess of butterflies.
He hovered over me, studying my face, an expression dawning that I couldn’t identify. Had I done something wrong? Pushed too fast?
I didn’t get to think beyond that. He kissed me again, harder and more demanding. His tongue teased my lips until I opened and then there was only the slow, hot stroke of it over mine.
Pollux groaned, low and deep, and shifted me until I was sitting, legs on either side of his body. With one tug, he pulled me onto his lap.
Oh, my god.The man was definitely related to the gods because I’d never been kissed like this in my life. He wanted me. The hard length of him pressed between my legs. He skimmed his hands up my back, over my sides, and down to wrap tightly around me.
And still he kissed me. And kissed me.
