"I love you, Athena," Ewan declared huskily as he broke away grudgingly from Athena's lips, resting his forehead against hers, their shaky breaths intertwining together. His voice was low, rough, yet painfully tender.
"I love you, so much that it aches. I know I'm not supposed to, but I'm glad you're away from Antonio."
Athena swallowed, annoyed with her thirst for another round of kissing. What was it about his lips that drove sense and time out of her head?
And why was her tongue now loosened to say the words back, when it had always been tied up during her regime with Antonio?
"I know I did hurt you…"
She hushed him with a chaste kiss, her fingers trembling slightly as they touched his jaw. "Let's not talk about it."
She couldn't believe the lowness of her own voice—the silky seduction that laced through it, the tone that announced her intent and her desires.
A tone he answered to, before she could even say jack.
