#aphrodite!reader

It wasn’t fair. You were a daughter of Aphrodite; flirtatious, fun, and beautiful. You were supposed to be the one to fluster him, to make him nervous with how attractive he found you. And you did, don’t get me wrong. But how did Jason manage to elicit the same reaction from you without even so much as noticing it?

You licked your lips as you looked at Jason, like a lioness observing her prey while preparing to pounce. And what cute prey it was. The clueless blonde pushed up his glasses from the bridge of his nose and adjusted the grip he had on his paperback copy of The Art of War. You almost snorted at how adorably nerdy the action came across as. Why Jason would rather read an ancient book about military strategy than a novel was beyond you, but to each their own, you supposed.

“Is it good?” The sound of your airy voice took Jason aback, who had been fully immersed in the page he was reading. Looking up, he took you in; sitting on his bed like a perfect little doll in your pretty white sundress. Glancing down at your closed book momentarily, his curious reply came fast, “Yes, it is. Isn’t yours?”

“Mh-hm. It’s not bad, I guess.” Jason raised an eyebrow. “So why aren’t you reading, sweetheart?” he asked in that gentle tone that never failed to get you weak in the knees. He was always gentle with you. Your lips tugged into that charming grin he adored, and a foreboding twinkle came to life in your eyes; one your boyfriend had come to know very well. You were up to something—something that surely had little to do with the cozy reading session you two had agreed on for the afternoon.

It wasn’t your fault that he was so distracting! Your love for reading couldn’t be swayed by much, truly, but Jason Grace was a force of nature. That cute, concentrated look on his face did things to you—eyebrows furrowed in a way that you found unreasonably endearing.

With a feline grace that came to you naturally, you got up and walked around the bed so you could stand before him. “It’s ’cause of you. Can’t focus.” Your soft admission lit the match that sparked over to the bewilderment now shining in his cerulean depths. A lopsided smile spread across his face, and the ghost of a dimple poked out from his left cheek. Ugh. “What did I do?”

“That! Right there!” you exclaimed, while pointing an accusatory finger at his face in a silly gesture. A huff escaped your parted lips, your hand lowering from its levitated state to rest on his shoulder. “You’re killing me, Jason!” you whined, and Jason had the nerve to laugh. You were being too cute right now, even if he wasn’t sure what was up with you.

You playfully pushed his shoulder in an attempt at conveying your annoyance with him. “Stop laughing! Jason, I— I’m serious!” Your blonde boyfriend stopped laughing after a moment of gathering himself. Clearing his throat with a poorly suppressed grin, he was failing majorly at hiding his amusement. He set his book aside before his hands moved to grab you by the waist.

A humored hum resounded from Jason as he looked up at you, who towered over his seated self. “Talk to me, pretty. What’s got you so heated, hm?” Fuck. Could he be any hotter? He got you practically foaming at the mouth with how desperately you wanted to sink your teeth into him now—figuratively as well as literally at this point. You wouldn’t mind taking a bite of that biceps. Your eyes drifted across the expanse of his muscular arms up to the big hands gripping your middle. A few beats passed and only then did you slowly drag your gaze up to meet his questioning one.

Biting your lip, you admired the beautiful sky blues hidden beneath the specters of his glasses. Wordlessly, you raised the hand that you had placed upon his shoulder and brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck with the tips of your fingers.

You smiled as your hand wandered up to grasp his chin between your thumb and your forefinger—your eyes locked with his the entire time. Shaking your head in disbelief, you sighed. “You really don’t know.” His eyebrows drew together, a delicate crease forming between them. Jason looked at you like he would a map; in an almost strategic manner, like he could figure you out if he stared long and hard enough. “Know what?”

“How attractive you are,” you began, your voice light as a feather, before continuing in the same breath, “How you drive me crazy with those stupid glasses.” In mere seconds, a blush spread across Jason’s cheeks like wildfire. Realization dawned on his face alongside a certain shyness that was entirely unnecessary. There was barely any reason to feel embarrassed considering all the things you two had already explored together in your time as a couple. “How I was reading the same paragraph over and over again for like five full minutes, before I put my book down. Because I just can’t think of anything besides kissing you, when you look like that.”

Jason swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah?” His voice came out sounding scratchier than it had before. The corners of your mouth pulled further upward upon taking in his flustered state. “Uh-huh.” You nodded.

With a swipe of your tongue, you moistened your lips again—immediately noticing the instinctive glance Jason shot them, before holding eye contact with you once more. A devilish idea had already taken root in your mind, as you made sure you could move more freely by slightly hiking up your sundress. You let go of his face, only to stabilize yourself on his shoulder, before climbing onto his lap. You were the epitome of sultry seduction straddling him like this, exuding confidence in a way Jason knew only you could.

The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils—cedar and a fresh air of citrus. Jason smelled as good as he looked.

His flushed face was even cuter up close, regardless of how many times you had already witnessed it before. You would never grow tired of seeing your usually so calm and collected boyfriend turn into an adorable mess for you. You loved that you could have this effect on him. The day you would cease to take joy in that would be the day Tartarus freezes over.

Leaning in closer, you brushed your lips against the burning surface of his cheek. The teasing tingle you left behind made Jason’s heart stutter in his chest. Your hand left the flowy fabric of your dress—bunched together now in a cloud of white—and instead found its home on his toned pectoral muscles. Your mouth was right next to his ear then, and he could feel you smirk. “Will you kiss me, baby? Or will you keep me waiting?”

He said your name like a warning, his voice low and rough around the edges. His grip tightened around your waist, and you were already buzzing with excitement. Before you knew it, he had redirected your face so that you couldn’t hide from him.

His intense gaze bore into you, but you chose to play coy with him as you avoided direct eye contact. The faux innocence you displayed after your bold words was as funny as it was cute to your boyfriend. But Jason wasn’t having any of it, as amusing as he thought it was. “Look at me.” His firm demand made him sound so much like the leader you knew he was, and that could have driven you into a frenzy any day. You went along with his request, though the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t go away. Jason cupped your cheek, and while his hold was characteristically careful, the storm in his eyes spoke an entirely different language.

“You’re trouble,” Jason spoke. After giggling at his rather valid claim, you pointed out, “You never had any complaints before.” Shaking his head at you, he let out a humorous scoff. You were unbelievable. “Who said I was complaining now?” he countered as he pulled you in.

You felt his warm breath on your lips for only a split second, before he finally kissed you. After the agonizing minutes spent pondering over the addictive feeling of his lips on yours, you were anything but disappointed.

Jason captured your lips in a way that was as commanding as it was painstakingly considerate. The hand on your waist wandered up to trace the exposed skin of your décolletage, though his touch wasn’t inherently sexual. If anything, the brush of his fingers on your collarbones and neck came as a natural byproduct of Jason’s desperate need for intimacy with you. He was actively seeking the warmth of your skin, searching for the softness that always succeeded in making him unbelievably pliable—for you, that is, only ever for you.

You shared the same sentiment; longing to have him as close as possible. Gripping his hair by the back of his head, you urged his face even closer to yours—as though you two weren’t already nose-to-nose. If you could have simply stayed in his lap forever and never let go of his lips, you would have immediately claimed this seat as your own personal throne with pride. Surely your favorite as well, or well, maybe your second favorite.

When Jason pulled back, if only for a moment, you whined impatiently. He would have rolled his eyes at your attitude if you were quite literally anyone else.

Fact was: Jason wasn’t someone with a high tolerance for people who lacked the discipline he had been taught from a young age. He couldn’t always give them grace. But with you, it was different. And it honestly wasn’t even that he loved you in spite of your sensibilities. No, he loved you for them. Because somehow you made anything and everything seem so, so sweet to him. You could have done the most irritating thing in front of him, and he would’ve simply been amused and laughed it off.

“No whining, my love. I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I?” His gentle reprimand made you pause, as you dropped your hands onto your lap and scrutinized him. You were pleased by the sight of his dilated pupils and the heavy puffs of air escaping his already swollen lips. You might’ve been a little too eager. What you weren’t particularly pleased by, on the other hand, was his withdrawal from your well-earned kisses. You’d waited for about a quarter of an hour to kiss him, so the least he could do was make it worth your while, right? And for you, that meant much more than what you two had just started. This was only the beginning, obviously!

Jason knew you too well, and of course he also didn’t want to end this right here already. He was more than willing to taste your sweetness for the rest of time, but he would do that on his terms though—in typical Jason Grace fashion. “You’re going to be good for me, right? So that I can continue giving you exactly what you need.”

The gravelly tone of his voice—tempting you with the promise of fulfilling your desires—involuntarily made you try to squeeze your thighs together, and Jason felt that. With both your thighs on each side of him, well, it was hard to miss the pressure of you caging him in even further. Your failed attempt at easing the ache between the supple flesh of your upper thighs had its effects on Jason nevertheless. His eyes narrowed dangerously, the hand on your face moving to take a hold of your nape instead. “You’re being impossible, sweetheart,” he began, his voice so deep it almost resembled something of a growl, before he finished his thought, “but that just makes me want to correct you even more.”

Your breath caught in your throat, wide eyes unblinking. His lips crashed against yours before you could fully understand the implications behind his words. Jason dominated your mouth, gripping you by the nape in an authoritative way—resolute, yet still not forceful. He got drunk on the aching sweetness it provided. Your boyfriend took bliss in any second spent pleasuring you, no matter how.

This time it was you who needed a moment to breathe. In a half-hearted manner, both your hands pushed against his abdomen weakly. You needed air, yes, but you were still consumed by the hunger with which Jason claimed you. The blonde didn’t immediately grant you your wish. No, he practically devoured you with how intensely he was exploring the cavern of your mouth, before he let go of your lips begrudgingly. Only after giving your lower lip a last teasing bite, that is.

You gasped, heaving for air now. Blood had rushed up to your face, as warmth spread over your entire body. Your skin burned with the heat you felt coiling up in your lower stomach. A coppery tang hit your tongue as you realized that Jason had broken skin with his unusual roughness. The sensitive tissue of your bottom lip stung from the bite Jason had granted it, but you didn’t really mind. Still, you exclaimed in surprise, “You bit me!” Jason smirked—almost even chuckling at your genuine shock—before he asked you if it hurt with an undercurrent of concern.

“Well, obviously!” You laughed at his question. He was probably the only man you knew that would ask you this after that. But that’s exactly why you loved him so much. Even when he wasn’t perfectly delicate with you, while indulging in the pleasures you both enjoyed, he always made sure you were alright. Jason put your satisfaction first—a giver at heart. “But… I liked it,” you admitted.

Jason hummed before he gave your lips a soft peck as compensation. You grinned at him happily. He looked so good with your lipgloss smeared all over his mouth.

You felt a quiet sense of possessive pride seeing him so thoroughly marked by your kisses’ stains. Raising a hand, you wiped some of the pigmented product off of him with a delighted snicker.

Your pointer finger lingered on the upwardly curved scar of his top lip. You grazed it gently, before pressing a delicate kiss on it. You adored his scars, always wanting to make sure that he knew you didn’t view them as imperfections. Jason was gorgeous, and his scars only made him look even more beautiful to you. Though admittedly, the story behind this particular scar did crack you up the first time you had heard it.

Jason’s eyes softened, glazing over with pure, unfiltered love for you. “You’re too sweet, my love. Far too sweet.”

he laid beneath the canopy surrounding your pretty pink bed, inhaling the heady scent of gourmand vanilla that seemed to cling to every corner of the room. and the source happened to be you- cabin 10’s sweetheart.

poor luke had found himself with an unfortunate case of the flu this summer- fortunately, he had his radiant angel of a girlfriend to nurse him back to health.

“babyyy…” luke called, pouting as he wrapped his arms around a plush, pink pillow in the absence of his darling.

“i’m right here, beautiful.” you murmured, perching yourself beside him on the bed as you gently stroked your patient’s hair out his face. poor thing had hardly left your bed in days! you were practically waiting on him hand and foot. but of course, you loved him and he would do the same for you.

“mm… baby, can you-” luke burst into a fit of coughs, you winced, he had been coughing for days without end, complaining of a sore throat, thus you knew he must be in pain. “can you help me with my water?” luke lifted his head, giving you those beautiful baby blues you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to, even if you wanted to (which you didn’t frankly.)

“of course, sweetheart- sore throat?” you frowned as you guided him to sit up carefully.

he only whined in response.

you held the glass to his lips and helped him drink the water, a few droplets escaped and you grabbed a tissue to clean him up. “any more?” you asked tenderly.

he shook his head, a slightly pout present on those pretty lips. it was such a juxtaposing scene, this supposedly hardened hermes boy languid and sprawled across the sweetest aphrodite girl’s bed. not only that, but in his sleep, you were certain he was holding a pink stuffed bunny to his chest.

“kay.” you mumbled softly as you place the glass on your bedside table- once cluttered with lipglosses and crystals, now teeming with tissues and medicines. you dabbed around his mouth with the tissue.

luke’s gaze never tore away from you, his pleading eyes on yours as you took care of him.

you discarded the tissue and carded your fingers through the boy’s messy blond tresses. that pout on his lips never seemed to wane. “sweetheart, please… just get in bed…” luke murmured, sniffling. his tone was, to be frank, bordering on begging and rather pathetic. you sighed. he was sick, he knew it and you did, but luke had been whining for day for you to let him hold you or vice versa- but the aphrodite girl you were, you were reticent, actively trying to avoid the sickness yourself.

you bit your lip. “luke… you’re poorly… you ought to get some rest, would you like me to get you some medicine- cough syrup?” you mumbled sweetly as you stroked his hair. he was such a mess, you’d never admit it but luke had never looked more adorable.

“no, no more cough syrup, gods above.” luke nearly scowled at the mere mention of that gods forsaken medicine; you had all but forced him to take it for he despised the taste, but you had rebuked him, claiming he was just being difficult and a brat. “just c’mere, babe… i feel-” cough. “-better now.” the son of hermes whined.

you sighed and gave him a chiding look. “you are most definitely not better- now how about i check your temperature-” you reached for the thermometer but luke cut you off the a disapproving, annoyed sound in his throat, grabbing your wrist, tugging you closer.

“baby, please… c’mon what about a kiss? you’re killing me…” he whined, pouting, his cheeks pink with fever and his hair sticking up all directions (hadn’t you just smoothed that out?)

“luke, you’re sick!” you told him off, flattening your skirt as he pulled on your arm. for one, you didn’t want his germs, but another you had just done your lipgloss! you couldn’t kiss him now! and knowing luke, he didn’t just want a kiss, he would probably try to stick his tongue down your throat in the process- could you blame him? you had hardly even held his hand for days- let alone kiss the boy.

“aw- c’mon, angel!” he whined, employing that nickname he had used for you ever since being claimed by aphrodite. “jus’ c’mere-” he huffed, pouting.

you relented and scooted closer, you patted your lap. “no cuddling, i’m sorry, petal. you need to rest. come here.” you let him use your thighs as a pillow.

with a grumble, he looped an arm around your hips, his fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. without hesitation, luke buried his face in your thighs. “cruel, cruel girl…” he mumbled, muffled by the pink fabric, a hand finding your thigh. one of your own hands landed in his blond locks, the other stroked his back. those pink manicured nails occasionally scratched scalp or muscles.

“you’ll be fine.” you murmured, feigning annoyance but a small adoring smile broke across your lips.

nobody would have believed you if you had said luke castellan could be so needy. whining for his girlfriend’s touch.

a whine reverberated against your skin. “jus’ one kiss…” he gripped your thigh in attempt to pull you closer. “need you, pretty girl…” he buried his face into his new pillow. so damn clingy.

then a kiss to the sliver of skin on your thigh.

“luke.”

“mm?” he kissed your thigh again.

“buttering me up won’t work. i’m not going to kiss you.” you sigh. you knew his game. he would kiss your body, call you those pretty pet names, and touch you in attempts to get you to give in, and sometimes it worked- but that’s not the point!

“what! baby, c’mon!” he whined, his grip tightening on you now. pathetic really. “fine.” he huffed, the pout audible in his voice. “cuddle?” damn, he was relentless.

but that whiny voice…

try as you might you couldn’t resist that handsome hermes boy. oh it was so difficult! you wanted so hard to stand your ground but in the end… you gave in to those ocean eyes and laid down beside him.

luke didn’t miss a beat. immediately, he nestled his face into your chest and inhaled your vanilla scent. “oh, babe… i love you.” he groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, that whiny tone ever present.

your hands once again found his back muscles and his hair. you kissed the top of his head. that’s all he was getting.

“i love you too, greedy thing.” you murmured so softly. the action of him moving on top of you briefly lifted the duvet to relief luke had, in fact, been cuddling your stuffed animals in your absence. your heart warmed and you held him a little tighter.

you knew in a less than a weeks time, you’d be sick once he was perfectly healthy; you just couldn’t seem to resist him! but luke would be there for you and he would kiss you all over, feeding you cough syrup, and it would be you complaining he wasn’t kissing you. he would declare it was pay back and then crawl into your bed and hold you just as you had held him.

˚౨ৎ⋆｡ ˚⋆꒰  sparkle sparkle ꒱ ⋆ ˚⋆౨ৎ˚

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You had been worshipped for thousands of years. Men had started wars for you. Written poetry for you. Built temples with bleeding hands and aching backs just for the chance to feel noticed by you for half a second.

You were Aphrodite. Desire followed you like perfume. Hearts bent around you without effort. Mortals stared when you walked by because they physically could not help themselves.

Usually, visiting Earth was entertaining for about a week before it became exhausting again.

The attention.

The devotion.

The desperation.

Predictable.

You liked humans well enough, but most of them looked at you like something untouchable. Something to possess or worship instead of know.

Then you met him.

It happened in Manchester, in a cramped pub that smelled like beer, fried chips, and rain soaked coats.

You had gone because it amused you to appear somewhere loud and ordinary. No gowns. No gold jewellery crafted by divine hands. Just a tiny black dress, leather jacket, glossy lips, and enough beauty to stop half the room mid conversation when you walked in.

Which they did.

Conversations faltered.

Pool cues paused mid shot.

Several men outright turned in their seats.

You felt it instantly. That familiar rush of infatuation sweeping through the room.

Except from one person.

At the bar stood Morgan Burtwistle, laughing at something his mate had said, completely unaffected.

You noticed him immediately because of it.

Bright ginger hair under the dim lights. Broad shoulders in a grey hoodie. Big hands wrapped around a glass. Comfortable in himself in a way most famous men weren’t.

And he did not stare.

You slid onto the stool beside him deliberately.

Nothing.

Not even a double take.

You ordered a drink and watched him from the corner of your eye.

Still nothing.

You were fascinated.

Finally he glanced over casually.

“You alright?”

His voice was rough, warm. Entirely normal.

You blinked at him once, caught off guard by the complete lack of awe in his expression.

“You’re not very observant, are you?” you asked lightly.

He frowned a little, amused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t looked at me properly once since I sat down”

That finally earned you a laugh.

“Sorry, should I?”

“Most men do.”

“Well, most men are weird”

You stared at him for a moment before smiling despite yourself.

The bartender slid your drink over. Morgan pointed at it with his chin.

“You’re American?”

“Greek.”

“Ah. Fair enough”

That should not have made your stomach flutter the way it did.

You spent the next hour talking to him despite yourself.

He told you stupid stories about streaming. About his mates. About football. About getting recognised in Tesco while buying toilet paper.

And the entire time he treated you like a normal woman.

Not a goddess.

Not a fantasy.

Just you.

When you finally returned to Olympus that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Which was ridiculous.

You had loved mortals before, centuries ago, but this was different. There was no manipulation in him. No greed. No desperate hunger.

He looked at you directly when you spoke, like he actually cared about your answers.

You found yourself replaying his laugh in your head for days.

Then weeks.

Until eventually you returned to Earth.

Just once, you told yourself.

You found him again easily enough.

This time he grinned when he saw you.

“Greek girl”

You rolled your eyes. “That is not my name”

“Didn’t get your name last time.”

You hesitated.

No one had spoken your true name aloud in centuries without reverence attached to it.

The lie felt too easy as you gave him a fake name.

He accepted it instantly.

After that, you visited constantly.

At first every few months.

Then every few weeks.

Then every few days.

You started learning human habits just because it meant spending more time with him.

You learned how to sit in greasy takeaway shops at two in the morning while he rambled with his mates.

You learned football chants.

You learned how to laugh so hard your stomach hurt.

And slowly, horrifyingly, you fell in love with him.

Aphrodite.

The goddess who made others fall.

You loved how he never performed around you.

How he teased you when you acted dramatic.

How he always walked closest to the road without thinking about it.

How he touched your lower back gently in crowded places.

He liked you too. That part became painfully obvious.

You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your mouth.

The way he got quieter when you sat too close.

The way his hands flexed whenever you touched him.

But unlike every other man you’d known, he held himself back.

Which only made you want him more.

-

Morgan had started looking for you before you even walked into rooms.

You noticed it immediately.

The way his head lifted whenever a door opened.

The way his eyes scanned crowds unconsciously.

The split second of disappointment when it wasn’t you.

It thrilled you far more than it should have.

Because men always wanted you.

But Morgan yearned for you.

There was a painful sort of restraint to it. Like he genuinely liked you enough to be careful with it.

You had spent centuries around desire. You could recognise lust instantly. It was easy. Shallow. Predictable.

This was different.

This was the way his voice softened when he said your fake name.

The way he remembered every tiny thing you told him.

The way he sat slightly closer every time you saw him, like he couldn’t help himself anymore.

You’d never had someone crave your attention instead of your beauty.

And Gods, you were addicted to it.

The worst part was that he had absolutely no defence against you physically.

You knew he wanted you.

You saw it every single time you wore something tight around him. Every time your hand brushed his arm. Every time you leaned close enough for him to smell your perfume.

His pupils would blow wide.

His jaw would tighten.

His hands would flex like he needed to physically stop himself from touching you.

But he still tried to behave normally.

Which only made you more obsessed with him.

One evening you found him outside a pub laughing with a few friends. The second he saw you approaching, his entire face changed.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

Like his body relaxed without permission.

“There she is” one of his mates teased immediately.

Morgan rolled his eyes, but his gaze never left you.

“You disappeared for two weeks” he said as you reached him.

You smiled slightly. “Did you miss me?”

His friends started laughing instantly because the answer was written all over his face.

Morgan shoved one of them lightly. “Shut up”

But his ears had gone pink.

You adored that about him.

A man who blushed.

A man who looked at you like you hung the stars but still argued with you over football teams and stole chips off your plate.

You stepped closer to him.

Close enough to smell smoke and aftershave.

“I missed you too” you admitted softly.

His expression shifted immediately.

Like those words genuinely affected him.

You watched him swallow.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm”

For a second he looked almost overwhelmed by you.

Not intimidated.

Not worshipful.

Just completely, helplessly gone for you.

That feeling followed the two of you everywhere after that.

It became unbearable.

He started texting you constantly.

You would feel your phone buzz while lounging in marble baths on Olympus.

u alive?

where’ve you fucked off to now

saw a girl that looked like you today and nearly crashed my car

You laughed every single time.

You began inventing excuses to come down to Earth.

Just to see him.

Just to sit beside him while he streamed.

Just to watch him laugh with his mates.

Just to feel his hand absentmindedly settle on your knee whenever you sat together.

And Morgan only fell harder.

You could tell because he stopped trying to hide it eventually.

One night you were both alone in his flat while he edited something on his computer.

You sat cross legged on his bed wearing one of his hoodies, watching him from across the room.

The sight nearly killed him.

You saw it happen in real time.

His eyes dragged up your bare legs before landing on the sleeves swallowing your hands.

He stared for so long you smiled.

“What?”

“That’s my hoodie”

“Yes”

“You look really fit in my hoodie”

Your chest warmed embarrassingly fast.

Gods, no one had ever spoken to you like this.

So casual.

So sincere.

You tilted your head. “You think I look fit?”

He barked out a laugh.

“I think you could ruin my life and I’d thank you for it”

The honesty of it hit you like lightning.

You stared at him.

And he stared right back.

The room suddenly felt too small.

Morgan leaned back in his chair slowly, eyes still fixed on yours.

“You know what the worst part is?” he said quietly.

“What?”

“I never stop thinking about you”

Your breath caught.

“You disappear all the time and every time you do, I tell myself I need to chill out because it’s pathetic”

You stood from the bed carefully.

“But then you come back” he continued, voice rougher now, “and I’m fucked again”

You walked toward him slowly.

His eyes followed every movement.

“I’ve never met anyone like you” he admitted. “You walk into rooms and everybody notices. But you don’t even seem aware of it”

If only he knew.

You stopped directly in front of him.

He looked up at you from the chair, and the tension between you felt almost violent now.

“You make me nervous” he confessed quietly.

You smiled softly.

He grabbed your wrist gently before you could move away.

The touch sent heat racing through both of you.

“I mean it” he said. “You do something to my head”

Your heart actually hurt.

You slid into his lap before you could stop yourself.

Morgan inhaled sharply.

His hands immediately settled on your waist like they belonged there.

You could feel how hard he was trying not to lose control. The restraint in him made you dizzy.

“You stare at me constantly” you murmured.

“Can you blame me?”

“No”

His thumb brushed your hip slowly beneath the hoodie.

“You’re unreal”

You leaned closer until your noses nearly touched.

“And you’re the first man who’s ever looked at me like this”

That finally broke him a little.

His forehead dropped against yours and he laughed softly, almost tortured.

“Christ, you’ve no idea what you do to me”

But you did.

You absolutely did.

-

Days later, when you ended up at that crowded bar with his mates, the tension between you had become impossible to survive.

Morgan barely let you out of his sight all night.

Every time another man looked at you, his jaw clenched.

Every time you touched him, he forgot what he was saying halfway through sentences.

You sat beside him in a tiny booth while music pounded around you.

Your hand rested on his thigh casually.

He nearly lost his mind over it.

You could feel the muscle in his leg twitch beneath your fingers.

“You’re doing this on purpose” he muttered.

“Doing what?”

“That”

You smiled innocently and squeezed slightly.

His eyes darkened instantly as he said the fake name you had provided him with tension is his voice.

The warning in his voice made heat curl low in your stomach.

You leaned toward his ear.

“I like when you want me”

He turned his head sharply then.

Your faces suddenly inches apart.

The entire table disappeared around you.

“You have no idea how much” he said quietly.

Your pulse stuttered.

Because he meant it.

Not infatuation.

Not enchantment.

Real yearning.

The kind that kept him awake at night.

The kind that made him look for you in every room.

The kind that made a mortal man stare at a goddess like she was the only thing worth worshipping.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the hallway near the bathrooms before either of you could think too hard.

The second you were alone, he backed you against the wall and kissed you like he’d been starving for months.

Desperate.

Deep.

Completely gone for you.

You gasped softly against his mouth as his hands gripped your waist.

“Fuck” he breathed between kisses, forehead dropping to yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long”

You smiled breathlessly.

“Then why didn’t you?”

His fingers tightened on your hips.

“Because I actually like you”

The words hit harder than any prayer ever had.

You kissed him again immediately, hands tangling in his hair while his body pressed against yours.