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Shoulders and arms built to take away your ability to speak. Chiseled abs and those grooved hip-muscle things that I don’t even know what they’re called but they seem to be evolution’s way of making even smart women go fucking stupid. Tattoos for days. Deeply tanned, Mediterranean skin, with a shadow on his razor-sharp jaw, and dark, perfectly tousled hair. It’s like living next to a goddamn Avenger who models for Armani while he’s not busy saving the world from Thanos. No wonder he seems to have a problem with wearing clothes.
Sometimes I’m convinced life really is a Greek tragedy. Or a comedy, depending on how cynical you are.
Shit. “So,” Hades sighs, his voice dripping with amusement. “You ready to discuss body armor for your dick yet, or do you wanna talk bachelor party?”
“Okay, so, first, asshole, eat a bag of dicks—”
I watch in a daze as my future wife turns a shit situation into solid gold. And for the first time, I realize two things. One, Neve is a fucking force to be reckoned with. She’s bold. She’s tough. And she’s ballsy. And two, all of that is a serious turn on. I’m so fucked.
“Clamp that mouth shut all you like, princess,” he growls against my skin. “Squeeze your eyes shut, look away, try your level best to occupy your mind with something else. You can lie to yourself all you want, but your body gives you the fuck away.”
The man who dresses in elegant, tailored suits. Who rules an empire with a level head and an unflinching concentration. But also a man that I just watched turn into an animal, complete with snarling teeth and bloodlust in his eyes. The fact that it was all for me—for my “honor”—somehow makes it even hotter. I know, I know…fighting for a woman’s honor is a ridiculously antiquated and more than slightly sexist concept. But it was still hot as sin to watch.
