Page 51 of Hercules

Just like one of those fantasies, Lois was conscious of time passing and things happening—the fuller weight of his body over hers, the rasp of his slacks zipper, the pressure of his lips against her temple and forehead—except that it all couldn’t be real. Time had boundaries; minutes had limits.

This…pushed beyond it all.

A haze even materialized around them, smelling like sacred candles and secret naves, thickening by the moment, adding to her surreal perceptions. Any instant now, she was certain the other typical staples of her dreams would appear: a bowl of pickles on the nightstand and a talking giraffe in the corner.

Though if that were the case, and this all was truly only a dream…

Then don’t wake me up.

At least not until she could push his shirt all the way off his shoulders. Then grip his waistband with her toes and kick down that bothersome cloth. Then use as much of her hands and feet to savor every gloriously sculpted inch of him that she could…

Oh, by all the gods in that damn acropolis of his.

He was spectacular.

As in, Bruce Lee battling any mafia dragon. Momoa with a sword strapped to his thigh. All the Hemsworths combined. All of the above combined, but so much more. Something beyond description. How would she ever write this into a script? Write what you know. That’s what the experts always preached. But he was beyond anything she knew. Beyond any fantasy she’d ever had.

And hell, square one. A fantasy. A wonderfully real dream. That had to be all it was, right?

But a fantasy with a cock so huge and hard, nudging so prominently at her sex, that she had to regard it lucidly—if only for the conversation that couldn’t be put off any longer.

“Ah…ermmm…” At least clenching out an awkward grin felt halfway cute. Though she was positive the truth didn’t measure up, there was no room for about-facing now. “Herc?”

And damn it, why did his little hitch have to deliver on the cute hotness?

“Too much? Too fast?” His gorgeous husk tripled that torrid temperature. “It’s okay, erastís. We can—”

“No, we can’t.” She backpedaled from the strict slice by attempting a little laugh, only to wind up twice as embarrassed as before. Moving through was perhaps the only way to press on. “Okay, seriously. I want this. Lion Guy. I want you.” Extending fingers inside his shirt again was a good move, offering up-close contact with the organ dictating the mounting rhythm of his pulse. “It’s…uhhh…just been a while for me.”

He balanced on one elbow while extending a hand atop hers. “For me too. But I’m sure if we take my lion and yours, we’d make a damn awesome Voltron.”

Her new laugh was unexpected, all the way to her own ears. “Indeed we would. And will. But safety before the spectacle, right? And it’s okay if you don’t have protection just lying around. If you let me up to check my purse, I think there’s a nifty foil square hiding at the bottom somewh—what?”

His own chuckle was the cause of her quizzical interruption. She didn’t relent her accompanying scowl, even for the slinky grin he added.

“What?” she insisted, attempting to dent his left pec with her fingers. His flesh didn’t yield, though some serious intent took over the beautiful curve of his lips.

“Hard-pressed as I am to say this,”—a gruff snort, conveying that he understood the weighted pun faster than she did—“you can make a note to thank my brother for handling that detail.”

She notched up an eyebrow. “Apollo’s your condom supplier?”

His new laugh was heartier. Sexier. Especially when it caused him to drop his forehead against hers before murmuring, “Guess that’s one way of putting it.”

Lo gave in to her own snorting reaction. “And I’m officially confused. How’s that for another way?”

He dragged back up, but only by half an inch. “Back when he assigned me to the Labors, broha thought he’d get clever and add extras to the deal. One of them was hooking me up with shelter and food in whatever region I had to go for the assignment. That one, I actually used and appreciated. But the other…”

“Was unlimited condoms.”

She was able to tease again because relief could be that empowering. Not that she’d show him more than that tidbit, which was probably more than a tidbit. Did he know already? Was he turning that cute smirk into a devastating smile because he could see how much she relished being his first drink after the sexual drought? If so, was he going to Don Juan the knowledge and make her beg even more for his ultimate conquest?

The new contemplation in his eyes told her differently. Thank freaking heavens.

“Well,” he offered, his tone filled with similar care. “I suppose magicking the plumbing to shoot strictly blanks equates to the same thing.”

“Wait.” It was almost a stammer, though her thick shock didn’t make room for the extra syllables in time. “So Apollo’s not your condom guy. He just took care of the issue by using his god stuff to sterilize you?” And he was still wearing that whimsical little look about it? “What the ever-loving hell?” she blurted. “I mean, unless you asked him to, because of…well…”

And here she was, back at the one subject she swore to steer clear of. The reference that sobered Herc faster than every subject that’d led up to it, his sterile swimmers included.