Electric Idol(Dark Olympus #2)(49)

“That’s very patriarchal of you.” I have no business believing him. None at all. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean he’s anything other than an enemy. He was going to kill me. I try to maintain my grasp on that truth, but it keeps bumping up against other truths.

How angry he was about the negative comments on my social media.

His insistence that I have a wedding dress that I’d be proud of.

The fact that he took the swatch and organized the entire wedding, guests and all, around my chosen color palette.

So many tiny, thoughtful things. Things an enemy wouldn’t do, even if they were trying to butter up their victim. Now he’s telling me he will stand between me and any threat to my safety and I…believe him.

He shakes his head. “I don’t really give a fuck if it’s patriarchal or not. It’s the truth. You’re safe with me. I promise.”

I don’t mean to touch him. Touching Eros is the very definition of a poor choice, but my hands find their way inside his tux jacket all the same. The fabric of his deep-gray shirt is softer than I expect, but that’s not what has my legs already shaking. It’s the curves and divots of his muscles beneath. He was shirtless in bed with me last night, but the circumstances made it impossible to enjoy the view without restriction.

I can enjoy it now. It’s my wedding night, after all.

“Eros.”

He holds perfectly still, watching me closely. “Yes?”

“I said only once.” My fingers find the buttons in the center of his chest. “What if that once doesn’t end until sunrise?”

His eyes flare hot, but he doesn’t reach for me the way I suddenly crave. “I want no misunderstandings between us, Psyche. You need something? Use your words and be explicit.”

I should have known he wouldn’t make this easy on me. Nothing up to this point has been easy; why would this be? I lick my lips and strive for an even tone. “I would very much like to have sex with you tonight.”

His slow smile has something more violent than butterflies erupting in my stomach. “One condition.”

“I’m not interested in bargaining.”

“And yet here we are—bargaining.” His grin widens, and I’m startled to realize it’s a little crooked. The tiniest of imperfections that somehow makes him even more attractive, something I thought impossible. He leans into my touch the slightest bit. “We’ll have sex tonight, and in return, for as long as we’re married, you’ll give me the opportunity to seduce you properly.”

“No.” The word slams through my lips before I can call it back. “I already told you why that was impossible.”

“Psyche.” He practically purrs my name, and I have to fight down a shiver. How can this man do so much with one word? “I’m never going to pressure you to do something you don’t want.”

Danger. That way lie dragons.

The idea of being seduced by Eros is almost intoxicating enough to have me throwing caution to the wind. Almost. I draw in a ragged breath. “I’d be a fool to agree to that, and you’re ridiculous for demanding it. Everyone knows that you don’t stay with one partner for more than long enough to quench your curiosity. The only reason you want me so much is because I told you no.” If we go further down this path, eventually he’ll get bored with me. I know myself well enough to recognize how much that will hurt when he finally fucks his fill and decides he isn’t interested in continuing the seduction.

“Is it?” He takes a slow step closer, and I do nothing to stop him. Eros strokes the tips of his fingers over the backs of my hands. “Everyone seems to know a lot about us, all of it projection and carefully concealed lies. Everyone knows I’m allergic to monogamy. Just like everyone knows that you’re a sweet influencer who doesn’t make waves—or have a mean bone in her body.”

The point lands just as he intends it to. Olympian gossip might be an elite event, but most people involved play the game and massage their image as needed. I do. Of course Eros does the same; he’s already admitted as much. So why is it so shocking that this isn’t true? “I’ve never seen you with the same date at two events.”

“My reasons are my own, and my past partners have nothing to do with us. You know that, but you’re being stubborn.”

I search his face, understanding dawning. “Aphrodite is a jealous creature. She wouldn’t like sharing your allegiance with anyone, especially a romantic partner.”

“Clever girl.” His lips curve in a bitter smile. “I don’t have to worry about that with you, since my mother already hates you and you’re more than capable of handling her going forward.”

He says it so confidently, as if it’s truth and not just wishing on a star. I am good at what I do. I know that. I’ve had ten years of practice and it comes naturally to me. But so much of my strength lies in people underestimating me. Even my sisters do it; sometimes they forget I’m playing the same games they are. If I told them I was going toe-to-toe with Aphrodite, they would be terrified on my behalf.

Eros simply believes I can hold my own. There’s no hesitation, no doubt. His confidence is headier than any alcohol. It makes me feel bold and reckless and more than a little wild.

Which is exactly why I need to restrict sex between us. “Eros, please,” I whisper. If he’s able to make me feel so off-center in a single day, a few weeks of sleeping next to each other—of sleeping with each other—and I’ll be in serious trouble.