Chapter Twelve
Hedge Clippers
We were walking down the hall toward our room at the lodge, my hand not in the bend of Apollo’s arm but held in his, lifted up and pressed close to his chest.
The rest of the “date” had gone well. Really well. No bizarre marriage proposals. No in-depth discussions of birth control. Instead, great food, excellent champagne and the continued discovery that Apollo could be good company.
I was right. He had a great sense of humor. And I knew I was right because I made him laugh often during dinner. I also found I liked doing it. A whole lot. Mostly because I knew he’d struggled with the loss of his wife for a long time, and his rich laughter and quick smiles made me feel like I’d scaled mountains.
In fact, it was actually Apollo who led the conversation to calmer waters, asking about my world, and laughing about such things as reality television shows and treadmills.
“Why on earth would someone run on a machine and not through a meadow…or run at all unless they had to which would not be a positive happenstance?” he’d asked while chuckling and I’d had no answer because I didn’t have one and also because I was laughing too.
He’d also told me a bit more about his world, mostly about the Houses, explaining I was right about Danforth. He was of Apollo’s ilk and he wasn’t Apollo’s favorite person.
“There is nothing genuine about that man. But then, there are many in the lesser Houses where this is the case. Always scheming to better their positions or attempting to hide their weaknesses.”
That didn’t make me feel great about socializing with the upper-crust but I’d learned that knowing what you were facing was a lot better than not so I was grateful to know it.
In other words, the date had gone great. And Apollo had been wonderful.
But now the date was over.
So now my mind was in a battle. The battle I knew was totally irrational of the panic I felt that I was about to get me some and it was highly likely it was going to be good but that good was not under the influence of magical tea created by a goddess. This was fighting against extreme excitement that I was going to get me some and it was highly likely it was going to be good.
I had, of course, noted in all our discussions of adela tea, Apollo had not explained one of its effects was making you an excellent lover. So, my guess was, if you were crap in bed before adela tea, you were the same but more pronounced with it.
And the opposite was true.
So Apollo was far from crap in bed. Way far.
In other words, in my internal battle, the excitement was winning.
My heart started beating faster when Apollo pulled the key from his pocket, unlocked the door, returned the key and was reaching for the doorknob when my hand in his squeezed and I said, “Wait.”
He turned into me and looked down at me, brow raised.
Pol couldn’t raise one brow and I liked it that Apollo could. It was sexy.
Okay, so pretty much everything about him was sexy.
That was not what I intended to share with him.
I looked to his throat, then his shoulder, trying to find the words.
No, trying to find the courage.
Crap.
“Poppy?”
I looked to his eyes, thought, Fuck it, and went for it.
“In my world, after a date,” I began and his hand in mine tightened. “The guy…well, he…” I pulled in a deep breath and finished on a whisper, “At her door, he kisses her.”
His eyes went lazy and his hand holding mine slid up his chest toward his shoulder as his other hand came out to cup my jaw and he murmured, “I see there may be things in your world that I would like.”
A tingle slid up my spine as I watched his head descend. I then decided he shouldn’t have to do all the work so rolled up to my toes.