by Tina Folsom
For a few moments they didn’t speak and studied the menu instead. The waiter appeared a minute later and took their orders. When they finally had their glasses of red wine in front of them, Eros lifted his glass and looked at her.
“Thank you for agreeing to this.”
She clinked her glass to his. “I rarely turn down a nice meal in good company.” She took a sip of the rich beverage and leaned back in her chair.
Eros drank from his wine, then set the glass down. “Well, I hope this evening lives up to your expectations. I’d hate to disappoint you.”
“I really have no expectations,” she admitted. Because this wasn’t a date. There would be no awkwardness, no mixed messages. They were only here to pretend. And for once it was nice to do just that.
“No expectations?” He shook his head, smiling. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a woman say that.”
“You don’t believe it?”
“I want to, but everybody has expectations.”
“Maybe mine aren’t very high.”
He laughed out loud at that. “You’re short-changing yourself. You’re a beautiful woman. Your expectations should be very high.”
She shrugged and glanced down the street, avoiding looking at him. “I’ve learned to lower my expectations.”
“Because you were disappointed?”
“Disappointed, taken advantage of, cheated on. Take your pick,” she said lightly, surprised at how easy it was to talk to a man, knowing that he wasn’t interested in her.
“Your last boyfriend? He did all that?”
She nodded. “And Wayne didn’t think he was doing anything wrong. Some people have a strange perception of what love is supposed to be.”
“Love?” Eros took another sip from his wine and huffed. “I don’t believe in it anymore. It doesn’t exist.”
She looked at him and instinctively put her hand over his, patting it softly. “Bad breakup?”
“When the love somebody shows you is measured by the amount of money or status you have, and is so easily transferred to another who’s seemingly wealthier and more important, then I have to say that love is simply a word people use to hide their true feelings. They can’t admit that what they really feel is lust and physical attraction, and that their greed for the material overshadows everything else. Why can’t people just admit what they really want? Why hide behind a mask of love when it’ll only hurt the other?”
Psyche squeezed his hand. She could sense his pain, feel how he’d been hurt. “Yes, I wish people were honest with each other. Why claim you’re in love with somebody, when really you only want something physical? There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s society that makes it into something unacceptable and labels us when we follow our desires.”
Eros stared at her, eyes wide. “Exactly! It’s much worse to pretend to want a relationship and to make the other person think you love them, when you know in your heart that you don’t have those feelings. Why go through it?”
“We’ve been conditioned for so long to believe in love and relationships.” She sighed. “Yet how many relationships do you really see lasting?”
Eros nodded eagerly, agreeing with her. “And those that do last only do because there are children to consider, or financial issues that make it impossible to part ways.”
She took a drink from her glass. “Look at us two cynics. Out on a pretend date and sour on love.”
“We’re quite the pair,” he said, grinning.
She smiled back at him, noticing once again how handsome he looked and how easy he was to talk to. She could be herself with him.
When the waiter brought their food, they fell silent for a moment. Psyche cut into her duck breast, dipped it into the plum sauce that was drizzled over her plate and tasted the meat.
“Hmmmm!” she let out when the duck practically melted on her tongue. She turned her head to Eros. “You were right. The duck is amazing!”
He smiled and pointed to his plate, where a glazed sea bass was sitting on a bed of Asian greens. “You’ve gotta try this.” He put a piece of sea bass on his fork and lifted it to her mouth. “Go on.”
She opened her mouth and accepted the fish, while he held his hand a few inches beneath the fork. He locked eyes with her as she ate the fish and swallowed.
“Wow!” she confirmed. “I don’t know which is better: the duck or the fish.”
He chuckled. “We can share if you want to.” Then he suddenly inched closer and dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Just follow my lead.”
“What?”
“Put your hand on my arm and lean in,” he murmured. “And keep your eyes on me.”
She didn’t dare look to the side to see if his friend was indeed near. Instead she followed his command and looked into his blue eyes. They were much closer now than before. And the blue was much more vibrant. Almost hypnotizing. As deep as an ocean.
Without knowing how it happened, she felt his lips on hers, pressing gently in a feather light touch. She sucked in a breath, startled, though she should have expected this. He was putting on a show for his friend. Only, it didn’t feel like pretend to her. It felt real. Warm lips on her mouth. Eros’s breath ghosting over her skin. Her hand on his bicep, holding on tightly, his hand sliding under her chin, stroking her there.
Sweet Jesus! This man could turn a chaste peck on the lips into an inferno. She felt her toes curl, her pulse kick up, and her chest heave. Her entire body reacted to his touch as if it didn’t know that all this was just pretense. An act. Her body didn’t seem to be able to distinguish between reality and pretense. The reaction was the same as if she were making out with a man who genuinely wanted her: arousal pooled between her thighs, her nipples stiffened, and her skin prickled with awareness. It was stupid to feel like this knowing that Eros had no interest in her. Hell, he wasn’t interested in any woman. But even that knowledge couldn’t stop her from responding to his kiss.
“Eros?” a deep male voice interrupted, and Eros severed his lips from hers.
While it took Psyche a second or two to compose herself, Eros seemed calm as he replied, “Oh, Dio, what are you doing here?”
His friend motioned towards the wine shop down the street. “I’m picking up Ari while Thoas is on his play date.” He ran his eyes over Psyche, his curiosity piqued.
“Well, you shouldn’t keep her waiting then. Nice seeing you. Take care.” Eros grabbed his knife and fork.
But his friend didn’t move. Instead he reached his hand out to Psyche. “You look familiar. I’m Dio. Have we met?”
Psyche shook his hand. “I believe you saw me when I was working in the garden of the Olympus Inn.”
Dio let go of her hand and slapped himself on his forehead. “Oh, yes, that’s right. Well, nice to see you. I didn’t realize you and Eros knew each other from before.”
She exchanged a quick look with Eros, not knowing how to answer Dio’s obvious fishing question.
Eros pasted a smile on his face. “Psyche might be doing some gardening work for me. We were just talking about that. I like what she did at Triton’s.”
“Uh-huh,” Dio grunted, obviously not believing a word. And why should he? He’d just caught them kissing.
Eros smiled and pointed to their plates. “Wish I could chat longer, but our food’s getting cold. And I’m sure Ari is already waiting for you.”
Dio hesitated for a moment, then he turned to Psyche once more. “It was very nice meeting you again. Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thank you, Dio!” she said and watched him turn away and cross the street. As soon as he was out of earshot, she exchanged a look with Eros.
15
Shit!
Eros wanted to curse, but instead he maintained his non-committal smile.
If Dio hadn’t interrupted them in time, who knew what would have happened. He’d been about to pull Psyche into his arms and press her against his burgeoning hard-on, exploring her mouth with his tongue until she was breath
less, while sliding his hands all over her body.
Fuck!
He hadn’t expected this reaction at all. He’d had lots of women, mortals and goddesses. He was an experienced man. A single tame kiss shouldn’t cause him to lose his head like this. It took much more than that to get him aroused. What had changed? Was his long abstinence from carnal pleasure to blame for his instant arousal? Had lack of sex made him hypersensitive? If that was the case, then he was screwed.
“You think your friend bought it?” Psyche asked.
“Bought it?” Eros repeated, confused.
“The deception.”
“Oh yeah. I’m sure.” Because it must have looked real to Dionysus, because it had felt real to Eros. More real than he wanted it to feel. “Well done.” He forced himself to remain calm and not betray the storm that raged inside him. He had to resist the temptation that Psyche represented at all costs, because he knew it would never turn out well. He couldn’t allow himself to tumble into another relationship, lose his head and his heart, only to be hurt again.
“What now?” she asked.
Yes, what now? He had to pretend that nothing was wrong. That everything was perfect. Forcing a smile, he said, “Let’s continue our dinner.” He lifted his glass and took a big gulp. “I for one am hungry.”
She nodded and picked up her knife and fork. “Me too.”
For a moment, silence descended as they both devoured their food, washing it down with copious amounts of wine. Eros started making small talk about restaurants, food, whatever came to mind, just to keep the conversation going. He was good at that. Psyche kept up her end of the conversation just as easily, clearly oblivious to the torture she was putting him through.
Just looking at her mouth as she devoured each bite with gusto, watching how she licked wine off her lips, made him want to clear the table and throw her down on it to take her. Whenever she tossed a strand of hair back over her shoulder, he wanted to groan, and every time her breasts lifted with her breath, his cock seemed to pulse in Morse code: S-O-S.
But nobody came to save his soul and put him out of his misery. He had to continue watching her, pretending that they were just two acquaintances who’d made a pact. He was relieved when Psyche declined dessert, and he could ask for the bill. The moment he’d settled it, she jumped up from her chair. Eros waved a goodbye at the waiter and followed her lead.
Side by side, they walked home, continuing their small talk, which led them from food to vacations and foreign countries. When they reached his house and he unlocked the front door, allowing her to enter ahead of him, he almost wanted to sigh in relief.
“It’s late. I’ll just get a glass of water from the kitchen and turn in.”
He pivoted to look at Psyche. “Sure. Sleep well. I’ll lock up.”
“Good night,” she said and walked toward the kitchen.
He stopped himself from gazing at her from behind and turned back to the front door. He flipped the deadbolt and took a few breaths. As long as he limited his time alone with Psyche, he would be fine; he wouldn’t do anything stupid.
“Ahhhh! Oh nooooo!”
Psyche’s scream made him spin around and bolt toward the kitchen. Was there an intruder? Had somebody hurt her? Panicked, Eros charged into the kitchen. His gaze shot to where she stood in front of the closed refrigerator.
“Psyche! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
She turned slowly toward him, and he saw what was wrong immediately: the top of Psyche’s dress was drenched in water, pasting the fabric to her chest so her bra was clearly visible.
“The water dispenser.” She pointed to the refrigerator. “I must have pressed the wrong button.”
“May the gods have mercy on me,” Eros ground out under his breath and cast a pleading look toward heaven. But clearly the gods were all conspiring against him.
He marched toward her, shaking his head. “Can’t let you anywhere near water, can I? Look at you!” He pointed at her wet clothes, his throat constricting with lust, blood rushing to his cock.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll clean it up. And if I broke the water dispenser, I’ll pay for the repair. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Gods damn it!” Eros cursed, sliding his hand to her nape and pulling her to him, unable to resist a second longer. Before she could react, he was pressing his lips to hers, kissing her. For a split-second, she seemed to react to him, but then she pushed him back with both hands, severing the all-too-brief kiss.
“Stop!” she pleaded, her hand covering her mouth as if nursing a wound. “We can’t do this.”
Breathing heavily, Eros ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” But he did know: it was lust, pure, unadulterated lust. “Maybe my friends are right after all. Maybe I do need to move on.”
With shock in her eyes, she shook her head. “No! That’s ludicrous! That’s the alcohol talking. You can’t just suddenly choose to be straight, when you’ve been gay all your life. It doesn’t work that way.”
His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in stunned disbelief. “Gay?” he managed to croak, still trying to digest Psyche’s words. “Who’s gay?”
She stretched her arm out to point at him. “Well, you, of course.”
“I’m not gay! I’ve never been gay! And I’ll never be gay!”
She took a step back, hitting the refrigerator door. “But you said—”
“I said what?” He nearly yelled the question.
“You said you weren’t into women. You said it the day we met. And then later, when we talked…”
Eros groaned and shoved both hands through his hair.
She frowned. “You’re not gay?”
“I’m as straight as an arrow.”
Psyche ran her eyes over him. “Oh.” For a moment there was an uncomfortable pause, then she added, “But then why did you say that your friends are trying to change you? And why the need for a pretend girlfriend?”
He forced out a breath. “Because I don’t want a relationship. I thought I’d made that clear. I told you I don’t believe in love. Not anymore. But my friends won’t give up. They’re all married. Happily. And they want the same for me. But I don’t want that.”
Slowly Psyche nodded. “That’s what you meant when you said they were trying to change you.” She dropped her lids and looked down at her feet. “Oh my god, I’m such a fool. I’m so sorry. I just thought, when you said you weren’t into women… I just assumed…”
Eros sighed. Maybe he should have been clearer. But how could any woman assume he was gay, particularly Psyche? “Haven’t you noticed how I’ve been looking at you?”
Her head shot up, and their gazes met. Was that panic in her eyes? Was she afraid of him now? Her hands suddenly came up and she nervously covered her chest. She fidgeted.
Her voice shook when she finally spoke. “So when you kissed me just now…”
He didn’t move toward her, didn’t dare approach in order not to frighten her. “I kissed you because you look so damn tempting. I’ve never seen a woman so tantalizing. Remember when we talked about lust tonight? That’s what I feel right now. But I’m not a man who forces himself on a woman. I can take a hint.”
“I don’t want a relationship,” Psyche blurted. “But—”
“I gathered that from our talk over dinner.”
“All evening I’ve been lamenting the fact that you were gay.”
He shook his head. “But I’m not gay. I just told you.”
“Yes, I know that now. That changes things.”
“What things?”
“Me living here.”
“If you’re afraid that I might sneak into your room at night to seduce you against your will, don’t be.”
“It’s not that—”
“Hold on,” he interrupted and scratched his head. “Did you say lament the fact that I was gay?”
She nodded.
“Generally, one laments a fact that one isn’
t happy about.” A smirk stole onto his face, while he took a step toward her. “Is that because you’d rather I’d be straight and therefore…” He pressed his hand on the refrigerator next to her head and leaned in. “… available?”
“If I said yes, what would happen?” she murmured.
“What do you want to happen?”
Eros noticed her swallow hard and couldn’t resist brushing his knuckles over her throat.
“I don’t want a relationship; I don’t need that kind of trouble,” she started.
“Again, I gathered that from what you said over dinner. And I think I made my feelings on the subject clear, too. No emotional entanglements.”
Psyche nodded. “Just sex.”
“Yes, just sex.”
“We’re two adults. We know what we’re doing.”
“I agree,” he said. “We’ve been through the heartbreak. No need to repeat that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”
“No judging, right?”
Eros smiled. “I never judge a woman for following her needs. It’s honest.” He stroked his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm. “And hot, too. A woman who knows what she wants is a huge turn-on.” He pressed his groin against her. “Feel that?”
A gasp escaped her lips. “Oh!”
“I’ve been hard for you ever since I kissed you at dinner. It’s been torture, but I was fully prepared to go to bed alone.” Eros dropped his gaze to her wet dress. “But then you had to play with water again. There are limits to any man’s restraint.”
“Well,” she murmured and gave him a coquettish look. “Then we shouldn’t strain those limits any further.”
Recognizing her words for what they were—a wholehearted invitation—he captured Psyche’s lips with a kiss he’d been craving for far too long.
16
Without hesitation, Psyche responded to Eros. There was nothing tentative or chaste about this kiss, not like the one they’d shared earlier at the restaurant. This kiss was different. It made her wonder how she could have ever assumed that Eros was gay. How had she missed the signs of his attraction to her? Obviously, she’d been blind. But she was seeing clearly now.