HERA
I… I should push him away.
I should lay my hand on his chest and shove him off and punch him in his annoyingly perfect face.
Those are the thoughts running through my head as Midas crosses across the room to take me in his arms.
I should not be letting him kiss me.
Yet the minute his lips touch mine, all my protest die and I feel ridiculously weak, powerless to resist, to fight against the surge of desire that washes over me.
And when I do place my hands against the hardness of his chest, it is not to push him away, it IS to steady myself.
My fingers holding on, pulling him closer instead of away.
There is nothing gentle or unsure about this kiss.
Nothing indecisive about the way his mouth moves against mine.
Hard and fast and demanding.
Like I am water and he is a man in t
