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Summary
“You’ve worked hard.”
“Not as hard as you,” he remarks, a salacious twinge in his tone, a hand raised to rub his knuckles over the severe edge of her cheekbones. She doesn’t reprimand him for the comment as there was a definite truth to it; no one worked harder, or put in the hours. He had once told her that the gods would be jealous of her physique; the sharp edges and rippling muscle.
She was the object of desire for many, and not without reason.
His tongue darts out then, licking his lips as he chooses his next words.
“I wanna make you feel good.”