BY THE TIME THEY REACHED the camp he’d set up, Atlas was hard and aching. Nike had been pressed against his side the entire mile, her female scent in his nose, her heat radiating into his body.

When she spied the tent he’d erected, she gasped. Wide brown eyes flicked up to him with wonder before she raced forward, not slowing as she barreled through the front flap. He heard another gasp.

Grinning, Atlas followed her inside. He liked this softer side of her. She stood in the center, twirling, clearly trying to take everything in at once. He’d spread furs on the floor and had even carted a small round table here and piled it high with her favorite foods. There was a porcelain tub already filled with steaming water, rose petals floating on the surface.

Never let it be said that the Titan god of Strength did not know how to romance a woman.

Nike’s hand fluttered over her heart, her gaze glued to the plate of strawberries and feta. “How did you know I liked those?”

Because he’d always been hyperaware of her every action. He’d watched her from his cell while she’d eaten them with her friends and he’d fumed that he was not the one with her, basking in her good humor. That was not something he’d admit to, however.

“Good guess,” he finally said.

She peered down at the rug and kicked out her bare, dirty foot. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Atlas.”

“That makes two of us,” he replied gruffly.

“But—”

“Just enjoy it, Nike. It’s all I can give you.”

Her lashes fluttered up, and her gaze pinned him. “But why would you want to give me anything?”

“Stop analyzing my reasons. This isn’t a ploy or a punishment, I promise you. And the food is not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He closed the distance between them, placed his hands on her shoulders and urged her to the table.

There, they ate in silence. The rapture on her face, rapture that increased with every bite, delighted him. The wine she savored sip by sip, moaning with every swallow.

Bringing her here was worth the risk of Cronus’s wrath, he thought.

Although, to get technical, Cronus had merely ordered him to keep her in Tartarus. Which he had done. The clouds around the prison were part of the realm. So really, he had not broken any rules. Cronus, though, being Cronus, would not see it that way.

Still, Atlas couldn’t regret it. He had never seen this joyful, eager side of the Greek goddess, and he found that he liked it just as much as he liked everything else about her. Which was way more than he should have.

When every crumb had been consumed, she turned her attention to the bath. “That’s for me?” Utter longing radiated from her, yet she didn’t move toward it.

“Yes. But I can’t leave you. You know that, right?”

She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. “What you’re saying is, I can bathe with you watching or not at all.”

“Exactly.”

He expected her to fight him on that. Hell, she could have refused outright. What he did not expect was for her to push to her feet and discard her robe without hesitation. At the sight of her nakedness, he hissed in a breath. Already he’d thought her exquisite…but now, now… Holy gods. She was the finest creature the gods had ever produced.

Her skin, so golden and smooth, covered lean muscle and succulent breasts. Those breasts were soft, perfect for his hands, and her nipples were as pretty a pink as he remembered. His mouth watered for them.

She walked to the tub and stepped inside. Her ass, her back…his name. He was on his feet before he realized what he’d done. He wanted to kiss those tattoos, something she would probably fight him over. He wouldn’t apologize for having given them to her, though. Hell, no. He liked them too much.

Nike pivoted slowly, and her gaze met his as she sank into the water. There was no hiding the desire he felt—it consumed him, ate him up and left him as bare as she was. Her expression, however, was blank.

Slowly, she worked the bar of soap he’d brought her over her entire body. She seemed completely unabashed as the suds danced over her, sliding down those magnificent breasts hiding beneath the rose petals. She washed her hair, too, and soon the locks were dripping down her face and shoulders.

With every move she made, he inched a little closer to her. He just couldn’t help himself. Finally she finished and stood. Another feast for his eyes. All the strength he craved more than anything else in the world was now wet, and he wanted to lick away every drop.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, stepping from the tub. Her voice was as devoid of emotion as her expression. Why?

“I need you,” he managed to croak past the lump in his throat.

Finally. A reaction. Relief and desire, such intense desire, claimed her, and she grinned a siren’s smile. “Then have me you shall.”

They were a mimic of his earlier words, and completely unexpected. Why the change in her? Doesn’t matter. As he’d told her earlier, there was no good reason to analyze a change of heart. Not in either of them. Not now.

He had the distance between them defeated a split second later. Had his arms wrapped around her, jerking her into him, a second after that. Their lips met in a wild tangle, their tongues seeking, rolling together. On and on the kiss continued, drowning him in all that she was.

He hated to stop, even for a moment, but he had to remove his clothes. If he didn’t experience skin-to-skin contact soon, he was going to ignite into flames. Panting, he tore away his shirt, his boots, then his pants.

She moaned. “Atlas.”

He pulled her back into his embrace. Finally. Blessedly. Skin to skin. Both of them groaned at the headiness. Her nipples rubbed against his chest, his tattoos, while their lower bodies thrust together. Then she was bending down, tracing those letters with her tongue—and gods, he had never been happier that he had them.

After she’d traced the last one, she kissed her way down his stomach. She dropped to her knees.

Was she going to—please, please, please—but she didn’t like him enough to do it. Did she? “What are you—”

She sucked his cock deep into her mouth.

His head fell back, and he roared. All that wet heat was ecstasy, surely the first he’d ever truly known, for nothing had ever felt this damned good. Except her, that first time he claimed her. Up and down she moved, allowing him to hit the back of her throat.

“Gods! Don’t make me come.”

She laughed, pulled off and licked his sac. “When have I ever listened to you?”

“Vixen.”

“Why can’t I make you come?”

“Because I want inside you.” With a growl, he dropped to his knees, as well. She could taste his seed. Later. He hadn’t lied to her. More than anything, even more of that ecstasy, he wanted inside her, and he didn’t want to have to wait for it. “Spread your legs for me.”

The moment she obeyed, he had two fingers buried deep. More wet heat. And to his delight… “You’re ready for me.” Never had he been more proud that he’d brought a female to this point. And that he’d done so with kisses, only kisses….

She trembled, had to grip his shoulders to remain upright. “I’m ready for you every damn time I see you.”

And she didn’t like it, he could tell from her tone, but he could only bask in the admission. “It’s the same for me.”

At first, she blinked, as if she couldn’t allow herself to believe him. So vulnerable she appeared, so—dare he wish?—hopeful. Then she placed a sweet kiss on his lips and breathed him in. “Don’t say things like that,” she whispered.

“Why not? I spoke true.”

“Because they affect me.”

Headier words had never been spoken. “Let’s finish this before I combust, sweetheart.”

“Please.”

He was sweating, panting, as he settled back on his ass, reached out and cupped hers. He jerked her onto his lap, forcing her to wrap her thighs around his waist. As her hands tangled in his hair, he lifted her, placing her eager core at the tip of his erection.

“Ready?” he asked hoarsely. This was it. The moment he felt he’d been waiting forever for.

“Ready.”

He thrust up and she pushed down, and then he was all the way in, surrounded by the very thing he had defied his king, his sovereign, to possess. It was better than he remembered, better than he could have imagined. He couldn’t pause, couldn’t give her time to adjust. Over and over he pushed in, pulled out, too overwhelmed by pleasure to do anything but ride out the storm. Perhaps it was the same for her. Her nails scored his back, and her moans rang in his ears.

Gods, he was close. On fire. Burning. Desperate. He reached between their bodies and pressed his thumb against his new favorite place.

“Atlas!” she shouted, her inner walls suddenly milking him.

She was climaxing, lost to all that he was, and the thought drove him over the last bit of the edge, as well. He jetted inside her, lost to all that she was, the most intense orgasm of his life claiming him.

An eternity later, his spasms stopped. Together, they fell backward, onto the softness of the fur. He kept his arms around her, unwilling to let her go. Now…always?

Yes, always, he thought, and his eyes widened. He wanted her always. Wanted more of this. Had to have more of this. When he’d forgiven her completely, he didn’t know. When he’d softened, he didn’t know, either. He only knew that she’d become an important part of his life. Perhaps she always had been; he’d just been too foolish to realize it.

What the hell was he going to do?

They could be together each night after his shift, but they’d never have privacy, and her pride would soon chafe at his amorous attentions, all while he refused to set her free. It would have been the same for him when the situation had been reversed. Besides, she was too precious to hurt in that way. But the problem was, he couldn’t be without her. He’d proven that already.

Damn, he thought next, suddenly sick to his stomach. Damn!

He’d finally found the one woman for him, but they were doomed.