Tall, Dark, and Divine

by Jenna Bennett

  Putting Annie and Harry together tonight had been a stroke of genius. After spending the evening with her, there was no way Harry would be back for his date with Brita tomorrow.

  Sure, Brita was gorgeous. But she was far beyond Harry’s ability to handle. Immortal Cretan goddesses didn’t take shit from anyone. While Annie was sweet. Pretty. Soft and warm and welcoming. And as soon as Harry spent any time with her, he’d see it.

  Yes, Eros had done a good thing. Even if the idea of Harry spending any time at all with Annie—especially any time between Annie’s thighs—made his stomach clench.

  He reached for the glass of ambrosia and took a sip to make himself feel better. And then another, for good measure. He was just about to take a third when a shrill buzz cut through the air and interrupted the dulcet tones of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Downstairs, a dog barked hysterically.

  Who the hell came to visit at—he checked the clock—nine thirty at night?

  Someone impatient, obviously. When he didn’t teleport downstairs to open the door, whoever was down there leaned on the buzzer and kept leaning.

  “I’m coming!” Eros called over the sound of the doorbell and Beethoven as he made his way down the stairs in his sock-encased feet. “Just hold on!”

  He expected Ari, since of everyone he worked with, they had the closest relationship. Maybe Brita, if Dionysus had done something to piss her off. Or Dion himself. It was Friday night and the bar would be hopping, but Dion might have left Silenus in charge for thirty minutes to come drag Eros out of what the god of debauchery thought of as sulking. In Dion’s opinion, drinking in private was a missed opportunity.

  What he didn’t expect was Annie. A disheveled Annie, with her brown hair in disarray, her cheeks flushed, her lipstick gnawed off, and her eyes shooting daggers at him. “You!”

  So much for soft and sweet and welcoming. He took an instinctive step back. “What?”

  She followed him in and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. Hard. Good thing she didn’t have long nails, or it would have really hurt.

  “How dare you bribe Harry to ask me out?!”

  “It wasn’t really a bribe.”

  “Yes, it was! He said you promised him a date with Brita if he’d go out with me!”

  “It was more blackmail than bribe,” Eros said, and immediately wished he hadn’t spoken when Annie’s eyes flashed dangerously.

  “It was his idea?”

  “Of course it was.” Had she really thought Eros would sink that low?

  Then again, from her point of view, he was the SOB who’d set her up with someone else—using bribery, no less—the morning after taking her to bed himself. If that wasn’t the behavior of the biggest jerk in the world, he had no idea what he could have done that would have been worse.

  “I hate him,” Annie said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I hate you, too. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  No, he shouldn’t. He should have realized Harry was too much of a moron to be able to pull off something like this. And now Eros had hurt her again, when it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  She’d clearly made an effort to look nice for Harry, too, while the bastard probably hadn’t even noticed. She was wearing the red shoes again, and a black skirt with a little ruffle that swirled around her knees, and a silky shirt that draped over her breasts in a way that made his mouth dry.

  She was swaying, which was as good an excuse as any to reach for her. To steady her, he told himself, nothing more. “Did you have too much to drink again?” His voice was rough, and he had to clear his throat. She still had her coat on, but he could feel the slipperiness of the soft blouse through the fabric.

  “My feet hurt,” Annie said.

  No wonder, when she wore those crazy shoes. “No Cosmopolitans tonight?”

  She shook her head. She wouldn’t look at him, just kept her eyes on the second button of his shirt. “He took me to the dog park.”

  What?

  “And bought me a hot dog and a Diet Coke from a street vendor.”

  “I’ll kill him.”

  “No,” Annie said.

  No? She still wanted the bastard? Even after this? “Why not?”

  “It wasn’t his fault.”

  Of course it was. Harry was supposed to show her a good time. Not take her to the dog park and feed her wieners.

  “You shouldn’t have made him ask me out,” Annie said. “You knew he wasn’t interested. He said so.”

  Yes, but— “I thought, if he could just get to know you, see how great you are…”

  She shook her head. “He wants Brita, not me. Stupid idiot.”

  No argument. And he wasn’t even sure whether she was talking about Harry or himself, but he agreed either way.

  “My feet hurt,” Annie said again, so Eros did the only thing he could think of: lifted her and headed upstairs. This time she didn’t even argue about her weight and his ability, just let him.

  He put her down on the sofa. “Let me take your coat.”

  She peeled out of it—a bit awkwardly, since she was sitting on part of it. He tossed it on the back of a chair and placed her handbag beside it. Then he gave her his glass of wine—“You look like you need this more than I do”—before keeling beside the sofa and reaching for her foot.

  She moved it out of his way, her cheeks warm. “What are you doing?”

  “You said your feet hurt. I’m going to take care of you.” He didn’t wait for her to argue, just snagged a foot and slipped the red shoe off, then did the same with the other one.

  Annie wiggled her toes, so she must feel relieved by the lack of footwear, even if she wasn’t about to admit it. And when he reached for her foot and ran his thumb along the arch, digging into the tense muscle there, she practically melted.

  “Oh. Wow. That’s…”

  “Just relax. Enjoy.”

  He took her foot into his lap and went to work. She had lovely little feet. Plump toes, with nails painted the same glossy red as the shoes sitting next to him on the floor. Elegant high arches. Soft skin. With feet like those, she should always go barefoot.

  “You don’t have to…” Annie tried, but it was a token objection at best, since she didn’t make a move to take her foot out of his hands.

  “It’s the least I can do. It’s my fault you walked all the way to the dog park and back.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  But she was snuggling into the sofa, both feet in his lap, her eyes half closed, practically purring.

  Eros hid a smile. “Just enjoy, Gatoula.”

  “Gatoula?”

  “Kitten. You sound like one.”

  “Oh.” She flushed but didn’t move. After a second, however, she stirred. “Where’s George?”

  “George?”

  “The dog. You said you’d take care of him.” There was accusation in her voice; clearly she thought he’d lied about that, too.

  “He’s downstairs in the office. The stairs were too much for him, with his bad leg. And I didn’t want to upset him by picking him up and carrying him.”

  She squinted at him. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. He has a blanket to sleep on, and a bowl of water, and he’s warm and dry. We can go downstairs so you can see for yourself if you want.”

  “No,” Annie said.

  “No?”

  “I trust you.”

  She did? Good.

  Eros busied himself by petting her feet and imagining how he could best kill Harry Mitchell tomorrow.

  “You don’t have to keep doing that,” Annie murmured after a few minutes.

  “I don’t mind. And it seems the least I can do, when it was my fault you went out with that jackass and got your feet hurt.”

  He looked up at her from where he was sitting on the floor. She looked almost as boneless as she had last night, when he’d left her on her bed. She’d forgotten all about keeping her legs demurely crossed and was sprawled on his sofa with her
eyes half closed and her skirt hiked halfway up her thighs.

  The part of him he’d managed to keep in check until now woke up with a vengeance.

  Want!

  Can’t have, he admonished himself.

  Harry doesn’t want her.

  He would. Annie wanted Harry, so Eros just had to come up with the right incentive to make Harry want her back.

  She’s here now. Harry hurt her feelings. She needs comforting.

  She did. Someone should comfort her. It just shouldn’t be him.

  You comforted her yesterday. And received home-baked cookies for your trouble.

  Some trouble. Besides, that was yesterday. Today was…different.

  Or—was it? She’d wanted Harry then, too. He’d known it. And he’d seduced her anyway. And she certainly hadn’t seemed to mind.

  He ran a hand up her calf. Up to the knee and back down. Watching her face while enjoying the softness of her skin under his palm. She sighed a little and wiggled her butt deeper into the cushions.

  No, she didn’t seem to mind.

  He could comfort her again tonight. Take her mind off Harry for a bit. It was just sex, after all. Good exercise. He had some time and lost opportunities to make up for. And he could make sure she knew how desirable she was. He could sleep with her tonight and fix her up with Harry tomorrow. No problem at all. Wasn’t like he wanted her for himself, was it? She was mortal. He was done with mortals.

  Just as soon as tonight was over.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Annie felt so limp and relaxed that at first she didn’t even notice what Ross was doing. His hand on her calf was just an extension of his hand on her foot earlier. Soothing, comforting, relaxing.

  Until that hand slipped past her knee to her thigh, and then she was feeling a bit less relaxed. And so, judging by the look on his face, was he.

  He was up on his knees now, his eyes glittering when he looked at her. His skin was flushed and his nostrils flared.

  He was gorgeous. And—by the looks of him—very turned on.

  Annie swallowed. “Ross?”

  He smiled. “You can say no.” He pulled a condom out of the end table drawer and held it up.

  Not in this lifetime.

  She nodded her head and watched his smile widen as he tossed the little packet onto the couch. Then he bent and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, several inches above the knee.

  Holy God. Annie’s breath caught in her throat, and her entire body tightened. For a second, she thought her head might explode.

  He didn’t do it again, though, just skimmed both hands farther up under her skirt, pushing the fabric with them. Until he could cup her buttocks in his hands. “Come down.”

  Down?

  She scooted closer to him, until her butt was on the edge of the sofa and he was kneeling between her thighs.

  Oh.

  Oh, God.

  When he leaned in, her breath went again, and the feel of his mouth against the silk of her panties had her ass coming off the cushions.

  He chuckled. “Relax.”

  “I was relaxed.” Until he started doing this.

  “I just want to taste you. I didn’t get a chance to yesterday.” His mouth came back, and Annie clenched her hands in the fabric of her skirt and did her best not to pass out from the sensations.

  It was over far too soon. Apparently he did just want to taste her, and not do anything else, because it was just a minute or two before he removed his head from between her thighs and instead popped a button or two on her blouse so he could nuzzle her stomach.

  Eventually he made his way up to her breasts, encased in tight red lace.

  Her breasts were one of her better features, Annie thought. Her booty might be too big, and her thighs might not be as toned as she’d like, but a few extra pounds did go a long way toward creating the kind of cleavage men enjoyed. Obviously Ross was a breast man. She had suspected as much when he went for hers last night, and this clinched it: his eyes positively smoldered.

  He looked up at her.

  “Please,” Annie said breathlessly. He probably wasn’t looking for permission, but it couldn’t hurt to let him know what she wanted.

  He smiled and leaned forward to run the tip of his tongue along the edge of one scalloped cup, leaving a trail of cool wetness in its wake, before closing his lips around one tight peak and suckling through the lace.

  “Oh. Oh, God…”

  Her hips arched reflexively, and she wove her fingers through the tight curls at the back of his head to keep him in place.

  He chuckled. He reached down between them to touch her through the moist silk.

  “Oh!”

  Staying on the sofa was a lost cause. Annie braced her bare feet and pushed against his hand, wanting—needing—more.

  He obliged by slipping a long finger past the silk and into her. Deep inside, to where she was already spasming helplessly, desperate for release. The intrusion of his fingers—first one, then two—was beyond perfect, and she could feel moisture pooling between her legs, sliding down to make his fingers slick and slippery.

  He murmured his appreciation against her breast, and the vibration, coupled with the way he moved his fingers and the heel of his hand pushing hard against her—right there—tipped her over the edge. She clenched around his fingers, eyes opening wide as the orgasm ripped through her.

  “Oh! Oh, God! Ross…!”

  He smiled as he watched her ride the crest, his eyes glittering, moving his hand in just the right way and with just the right amount of pressure to make the climax last forever. When he finally let her come down, she was limp and boneless, sprawled on his beautiful leather sofa with her skirt twisted around her waist and her blouse unbuttoned, with her bra wet, her panties soaked, and any dignity she’d started with gone.

  …

  “Beautiful,” Eros murmured, and Annie glanced up at him, startled. “You’re beautiful when you come apart.”

  “Thank you.” But she didn’t look like she believed him. She looked embarrassed, her cheeks flushed and her eyes downcast. She was plucking at that black skirt, as if she itched to pull it down to cover herself.

  Over his dead body. As far as he was concerned, she shouldn’t just spend her life barefoot, she should spend it naked. Sprawled on his sofa, wet and open and well loved.

  His.

  He reached out and trailed a fingertip down her thigh, enjoying the shiver that resulted. When she moved to close her legs, he shook his head. “No. Let me look at you.”

  She subsided, but only for a second or two. Then she opened her mouth again. “Ross?”

  “Yes?”

  “What about you?”

  He smiled, eyes on the wet silk between her thighs. “Don’t worry. I’ll get what I want. First I want to make sure you’ve gotten what you need.”

  “I have.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. Earnestly.

  Eros grinned. “Glad to hear it. In that case…” He leaned forward and blew against the wet fabric, watching her shiver, before reaching up under her skirt to pull the scrap of silk down her thighs. Baring wet curls and soft pink petals, drenched in cream.

  Beautiful.

  Annie flushed. “I thought you said—”

  “I said I’d get what I wanted. And I want you. Any way I can have you.”

  He looked up at her and saw the implication take root. Her eyes widened. He smiled. “Now hush and let me enjoy.”

  He pushed her thighs apart and leaned in, stroking his tongue through her wetness.

  “Oh!” Annie squeaked, her hips arching off the sofa.

  So responsive. He did it again, feeling her shiver under his hands. She whimpered, tossing her head.

  “God, Ross, I can’t…!”

  “Just for a minute.” He wanted to be inside her just as much as she wanted him there. But he wanted to taste her properly first, without the silk of her panties in his mouth. Just her: fresh and clean and d
elicious.

  He brought her as close to the edge as he could without tossing her over before he sat back on his heels, watching her. She was flushed, panting, with shudders running through her body and those big eyes liquid with desire. For him.

  He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to be inside her, right now.

  He fumbled with his zipper, hands shaking. The relief of being able to free his straining member was beyond anything he could imagine. He was so hard it was painful. And he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything in his long, long life—and the thought stunned him for a second, before he pushed it aside to think about later.

  Right now the only thing that mattered was Annie.

  Annie, spread open before him, wet and warm and welcoming.

  Annie, with her eyes intent on him, the tip of her tongue coming out to lick her lips, as if she imagined she could taste him.

  His dick surged at the idea as he rolled on the condom, and he bit back a groan. When he positioned himself at the entrance to her body and pushed inside her wetness, she moaned, too.

  “Oh! Oh, Ross…”

  He loved that she said his name. She might want Harry, but at the moment, he was the one bringing her pleasure, the one whose name she called.

  “Again.” He reinforced the request with another thrust, harder and deeper.

  “Oh! Oh, God! Ross…!” She clutched at him, her eyes blind.

  She was so close to the edge that all it took was a few strokes to push her over. And he was right there with her, just as desperate for release, so he followed right behind. As soon as he felt her clench around him, her body dissolving into spasms, he let go of the little bit of control he still retained and flew over the edge himself, holding on to her as he soared.

  Holding on to her as he landed, still holding on to her as he collapsed, his chest heaving and his face buried against the softness of her skin.

  …

  There was a photograph on the coffee table.

  Annie hadn’t noticed it earlier in the excitement of everything that had happened, but as she came down off her orgasmic high, and as she was sprawling there half naked, with her arms around Ross’s shoulders and his face hidden against her stomach, his breaths deep and steady and warm against her skin, she couldn’t help but notice it, propped up against the wine bottle.