His head tipped to the side. “This troubles you?”
“We were, uh…kind of fighting yesterday and, of course, the day before, and, well, dinner wasn’t all that—”
His eyes started dancing so I shut up and thus he could say, “We weren’t fighting last night.”
We absolutely weren’t.
“No,” I agreed breathily.
“And I much enjoyed last night.”
I’d got that. Still, it felt nice him confirming it.
“Good.” I was still talking breathily.
He pulled me closer and up a bit so we were nearly face-to-face. That was, nearly face-to-face with our faces about an inch away.
“Adela tea,” he began, his voice deeper than normal and warmer than normal and that was a double whammy. “Comes from adela trees. Have the gods of my world been explained to you?”
I nodded. I knew all about their gods and the fact that they had a bunch of them. “Gaston told me about them.”
He nodded back. “Then you know that Adele is the goddess of love. And she created those trees. The bark of those trees, if taken and infused with water, is what makes adela tea. These trees have many uses and are sacred. The tea is one of those uses. It is understood the goddess Adele created it to enhance the physical connection along with the emotional connection, if one is to be had, between lovers. It works as I explained before but it also breaks down inhibitions.”
Oh, it certainly did that.
His arm gave me a squeeze before he kept explaining. “Even if we don’t realize it, things in our head can build barriers to sharing in a variety of ways, including during bedplay. With those swept away, lovers can understand each other better. What pleasures them. Where to touch that feels best. Smells, noises, tastes that enhance gratification.”
It certainly did that, too.
Apollo wasn’t done.
“And, through future relations, once had, the understanding of all this will never be lost, even if the tea isn’t consumed. Therefore, it continues to make relations all that more intense, deeper, a beautiful experience every time you engage in it.”
Oh boy.
That sounded awesome.
He kept going.
“And if there is an emotional connection, or one that is building, all this serves to enhance that as well, most precisely, trust.”
His face got closer to mine so he was now only half an inch away and my breath caught.
“Amongst the other things, I feel that is what it’s done for us, my poppy. You must admit, regardless of the unusual circumstances that brought us together, we would not argue with such passion if there was not some emotional connection on which to feed that passion.”
This made sense, of course, but there was the history that came before, for both of us, which could actually be the cause of said “passion.”
So, I started to protest, “But—”
He knew what my protest would be because his eyes grew slightly hard and he declared, “It is not about him for you and it is not about her for me. We both know this. They were not there last night.”
“No, they weren’t,” I whispered and the hardness slid out of his eyes.
“They were between us, Maddie. Were. Last night, with the tea, with the way you gave yourself to me so freely, so magnificently, and how I treasure that, now they’re gone.”
Okay.
Shit.