His smile turned wicked. “Then let us make it worth the scandal.” They came together in a clash of passion. Now that her hands were free, she used them to clutch at his shirt, anchoring herself in him.
His tongue teased her lips, his arrogant grin never truly leaving his features. “Princess,” he groaned, nipping at her jawas his lips memorized her. His mouth traveled along her jaw, pausing at the lobe of her ear. “Imagine,” his voice was husky. His hand memorizing the curves of her body, “Imagine what it would be like, Princess.” His breath was hot against the skin behind her ear. “To be loved by me.”
“Don’t call me that,” she managed, tilting her head to grant him more access, her breath hitching.
“What should I call you, then?” His voice was a velvet rasp, filled with wicked delight. His fingers traced the delicate curve of her collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
“Penelope,” she whispered, her chest heaving. “Just Penelope.”
He hummed, pressing his lips against the pulse point at her neck. “Ah… ‘just Penelope’ doesn’t capture the woman I see before me.”
She bit her lip, warmth flooding her cheeks. “And you think you know me so well?”
Odysseus pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes gleaming like the sea under starlight. “I do know you. I’ve known you since the first time you smiled at me and made me forget my own name.”
Her heart thundered. “Then perhaps I’ve known you since the first time you tripped over your own pride and made me want to slap that smirk off your face.”
He laughed, the sound deep and rich. “It was a magnificent stumble.”
Her lips twitched. “It was a disaster.”
“A triumph,” he corrected, cupping her cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly across her skin. “One that brought me here.” Their lips came together again, softer this time, intimate. Penelope’s heart lurched in her chest.
Odysseus paused. She could feel his breath across her face. Her head was spinning. His grin softened, the mischief in hiseyes giving way to something deeper, something quieter. He traced her cheek with his fingertips, as though memorizing the curve of her face. “Penelope,” he murmured, the teasing lilt gone from his voice.
She blinked, her heart still racing as the warmth of his hand settled her. “Yes?”
He studied her carefully, the weight of his gaze making her feel as if he could see through every wall she had ever built. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice was gentle, the kind of vow not sworn in words but in the way his touch had never overstepped, always waiting for her to lead.
“I know.”
His smile deepened, a flicker of boyish curiosity beneath the tenderness. “Have you ever…?” He trailed off, his voice thick with something unspoken, and though he didn’t finish, she knew the question.
Penelope’s breath hitched as her fingers gripped the fabric of his tunic tighter. Her cheeks burned, but her eyes never left his. “Yes.” A pause, her voice softer now, trembling under the weight of honesty. “But it’s never been like this. It’s never felt like you.”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Half amusement, half wonder. “Good,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against hers. “Then let me be the only one who makes you feel this way.”
She trembled, her hands tightening around him. “What if they catch us?” A final plea, one she prayed he wouldn’t answer.
“They won’t.”
“And if they do?”
He chuckled, brushing his lips along her temple. “Then I’ll marry you tomorrow. Tonight, if your father can be bothered.” His repeated sentiment, the way he claimed her with absolute certainty, lit a fire in the Spartan’s princess’ veins.
“Odysseus…”
“I swear it, Penelope.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, not yet daring to press further. “Tell me if I go too far. Tell me if I need to stop.” His words trailed off into silence, eyes wild with restrained hunger. “Say the word, Princess, and I’ll leave.”
Her lips curved upward, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. “Stay.”
In one fluid motion, they shifted. Her head was spinning at his speed. His back was pressed against the headboard. She was sitting on top of him, legs straddling his hips. One large hand steadied her, firmly planted on the small of her back. His other hand cupped the back of her neck, drawing her closer.
Her heart pounded as her pulse raced ahead of reason. She had been taught restraint, to tame the storms within herself. But with Odysseus... restraint had never been an option. The warmth of his hand on her back ignited a fire where decorum had no place. His lips hovered near hers, waiting, as if every breath between them was a promise he dared not break.
She pulled back from him, breaths coming quick. “Odysseus,” she whispered, “Take me with you, tomorrow.”
“What?” He muttered half heartedly, lips carving a trail down the side of her neck. He stilled against her, jerking his head back to meet her gaze. “What?” He repeated.
