She cupped his face, brushing her thumb over his cheek.
“I am yours,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I have always been yours.”
A strangled noise left him, something like relief, something likeworship, and then…
And then there was nothing left but heat.
Nothing left but skin, but sweat, but moans.
Nothing left… longing and loss vanishing between their mouths, between their hands, between the whispered promises neither of them would break again.
Nothing left butthem.
54
HE FELT HER BREATH ON HIS NECK, steady and strong. He could tell she was still asleep by the way her fingers twitched against his arm, the way she didn’t stir when he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and brought the other to her cheek, gently running his thumb along her cheekbone. He could hardly believe that, after all these years, such a stunning woman could still find it in her heart to love him.
Penelope had always been the most beautiful creature he had laid his eyes on. Even as she stood next to Helen of Sparta, the daughter of a goddess, fawned and fought over for her beauty, his eyes had never left his wife’s.
He sighed, eyes drifting closed as the morning sun warmed their room. “Don’t you dare fall back to sleep.” Her voice was muffled, cheek pressed against the planes of his chest.
“Who would blame me? You kept me up all night with your mad desires, my love.” He felt her grin against his skin, felt the heat as her face flushed. But she didn’t answer, curling an arm around his midsection and holding him close.
His fingers stilled against her cheek, the warmth of her skin anchoring him in this peaceful moment. A smile tugged athis lips, but it faltered as a thought, unbidden and vulnerable, slipped from his tired mind. "You’re better off without me, you know," he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. "I’m a ghost of the man I used to be."
The words hung in the air like a stone, heavy and wrong.
Penelope’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, everything stilled. Then her body shifted, and he felt the unmistakable tension in her shoulders.
She pulled away just enough to look at him, and the sharpness in her gaze cut through him like a blade. “What did you just say?” Her voice was soft, but there was a simmering edge to it he couldn’t ignore.
His chest tightened, and he blinked, trying to swallow the weight of his words. “Penelope-”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, her hand going to his chest with a force that felt like a rebuke. “Don’t even think that. Don’t you dare.”
“I didn’t mean -” He was spluttering, trying to retract his words. He had been so at ease, half delirious from their night together, and hadn’t meant to say anything at all.
And especially nothing of that caliber.
“No.” She sat up, the downturn of her mouth causing Odysseus to sweat. “You don’t get to say things like that, you idiot.”
He followed her, sitting up to stay on her level. He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed a single finger against his lips. “I’m not having this argument with you again, Odysseus.” Her voice was resolute, her brow furrowed.
“I don’t want to argue, love.” He reached for her, but she avoided his touch, anger still laced through her eyes.
“But you still don’t seem to get it,” she snapped at him. She moved to stand, to leave him alone in the bed. He moved quickly,circling his fingers around her wrist, refusing to let her walk away.
“Please don’t leave, Penelope,” He whispered. “Please don’t let this taint our morning.”
“How could you say that, Odysseus? Have I not shown you, proven to you, day after day, that you are the only person I want? You are the only man I want to spend the rest of my days with.”
She was still arguing with him, but at least she slid back underneath the covers. She was still within arm’s reach. “I know, my love, I know.” He gently laid a hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her skin. The anger did not leave her face, but he didn’t miss how she leaned into his touch, if only just.
“I just meant… you’ve always deserved better than I could offer, Pen.” She stiffened beneath his touch, glowering.
“I think I hate you,” she muttered, closing her eyes to take a deep breath. He offered her a smile, hoping to break through her rigid exterior. “How could you say that, Odysseus?”
