Page 118 of The Gods Only Know


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We stayed there, breathing in the salty warm air, and wrapped around each other for what could have been minutes or an hour. But eventually, Lukas’s lazy caresses turned into coaxing touches that had me arching against him.

He hardened inside me with a stamina only a god could possess. He left me for just a second, enough to flip me onto my back and settle back in between my legs, driving into me slowly.

“I promised slow, baby,” Lukas said, pausing for a deep, sinful kiss. “But I have a habit of losing control around you. Let’s see how long I can keep that promise.”

He tried. And I tried to let him. But we lasted about five seconds before the intensity reached a fever pitch and we went back to mauling each other.

Slow could come when we weren’t so starved for each other. Which I wasn’t sure would ever happen.

Chapter 31

Lukas

I was staring at a work of art not even the most talented of sculptors could have dreamt up.

Daphne was asleep on her side, her face nuzzled into a crisp white pillow that made her hair look like a crimson river. Her breathing was steady, which sent an almost primal pride warming my chest.

Simple proof she was alive, and I was grinning like a fiend.

If she hadn’t matched my ferocity with a single-minded hunger last night, I would be concerned with scaring her off. But she’d been just as desperate.

The only thing I couldn’t stand was that there was a thread of regret under the desperation. She’d told me as much, telling me she deserved to be punished while I was seated deep inside of her.

I was proud of myself for keeping myself in check after that little comment. Mostly.

Because I’d lost myself between her thighs, only focused on bringing her over the edge and erasing any doubt she had that she had me wrapped around her perfect finger.

I was serious when I made her promise me a week. There was so much that needed to be fixed, and yet, I couldn’t think of a thing more important than driving back into her heat. Feeling her clench around me, her nails scoring my back, my name falling off her lips.

And because ofme.

This perfect sculpture of a woman, with a soul that outshined her physical beauty second to none. Sleeping next to me, letting her guard down for just long enough to let me in, then shoving it back up to protect us both.

My chest ached with the force of it, my hands itching to do something with the need crawling up my throat.

But I would launch myself off the balcony before I woke her up from her peaceful sleep, even for sex. So, I settled on smoothing my hand down her hair and over her shoulder in what I hoped were comforting strokes.

The calluses on my hands were at risk of scraping her pristine skin, but I shoved the doubt away.

“Where did you get those?” Daphne asked, pointing at the reddened calluses on my hands.

I’d only turned thirteen the week before, but my training had already increased tenfold. “It happens when I hold a sword,” I explained, then looked at both sides of my hands. “They aren’t pretty, I know.”

Daphne shook her head, scrunching up her nose. “I think they’re great. They show how hard you’re working.” Even at nine, Daphne was already so wise. We barely saw each other, but she was already one of my best friends. I could only hope that lasted.

I let the memory bathe me in warmth and let myself stare at Daphne. Not that I’d ever resisted that indulgence.

Some handful of minutes later, her shoulder pinched up. Her eyes fluttered open, finding mine in a second.

She looked up at me with those curious hazel eyes and whatever arrested expression was on my face made her pause. Before any fear or doubt could creep in, I just said what I was thinking. “I remember meeting you.”

Daphne smiled, lazy with the last flickers of sleep. “I do too.”

A flame started building in my chest. “We had that dinner. The salad they served was disgusting. Or maybe we were just too young to appreciate it.”

Daphne’s nose scrunched up. “I never did come around to lettuce.”

My hand stilled on her bare back, our skin connected with warm sparks of static. “My dad was talking to you about whales. And when he told you they actually do eat fish, your face lit up with the purest expression I’d ever seen.”

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