6. Perseus
Perseus
P erseus braced his palms against the tiles as cold water battered his shoulders.
Except it wasn’t cold enough.
The icy spray should have doused the lust raging through his body, but it only made him shiver while his mind blazed with images he couldn’t shut off.
Medusa.
How the hell had he let things escalate so quickly?
It was supposed to be easy—tease her a little, rile her up, keep things light.
It had been fun seeing her flustered, pretending she wasn’t affected while her snakes writhed under her scarf like they had a mind of their own.
He’d always been good at reading people, but with Medusa, it was more than reading—it was like he could feel her under his skin.
And okay, so he’d never slept with a coworker before. Technically, he hadn’t even slept with her yet. But gods, he’d made her come so hard she’d practically cried out his name.
A groan tore out of him as his hand slammed the shower wall. Fantastic. Now he was hard again.
He tipped his head back, letting the water hit his face.
He had to get it together. They were supposed to be partners. Professionals. This was exactly the kind of mess he’d vowed to avoid.
But damn, the lust coming off her was thick enough to taste—heady and relentless. Even her scent was saturated with sex, and the memory alone made his pulse pound, blood roaring in his ears.
Perseus cursed under his breath.
Cold water was definitely not working.
He exhaled sharply as his hand closed around himself, slick with the spray of water. He’d barely started stroking when a voice cut through the hiss of the shower.
“Looks like you could use a little help with that.”
“Holy shit—” he sputtered, glaring over his shoulder. She was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.
“Yeah, no thanks to you,” he shot back, trying—and failing—to cover himself with one hand.
A smile tugged at her lips.
“Everything okay with your cousin?”
“Um, yeah. She was just checking in.”
Medusa stepped forward as she spoke, fingers going to the hem of her sweater. She peeled it up over her head and dropped it to the floor, and Perseus’s brain flatlined.
He’d felt her body earlier, under his hands, but seeing it was something else entirely.
She was lean and toned, her waist tight and strong, her skin sun-kissed, which seemed to glow naturally, like it always held a bit of warmth from the sun.
Her breasts were smallish but perfectly shaped, nipples already tightening in the cool air, and gods help him, he wanted his mouth on them.
There was nothing flashy or fake about her—just clean lines, lithe muscle, and curves in exactly the right places.
So different from his usual type.
And maybe that was the problem.
There was something about Medusa he couldn’t resist. Even when he knew he probably should.
She stepped all the way into the shower and hissed when the icy spray hit her shoulder. “You’re going to have to make that hotter,” she said, shivering slightly.
Perseus grinned. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m always hotter.”
She smirked and stood there like she had all the patience in the world, all prim and composed—when he damn well knew she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.
He adjusted the knob, steam starting to fill the stall, and when she tested it with her fingers, she gave a small, satisfied nod.
“So, we’re doing this?” he asked.
She nodded and moved closer.
Perseus cocked his head. “Why are your girls still under wraps? You planning on keeping secrets from me now?”
“It’s better this way,” she said primly, though her lips twitched. “Especially since you’re just helping me out.”
“Works for me,” he murmured, voice dipping lower.
And then he yanked her closer and crushed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was fire and steam and her , all soft lips, and sharp, hungry nips. Her skin was smooth under his palms, soft and hot as she pressed into him.
Gods, he loved the feel of her belly flush against his cock—but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.
Luckily, Medusa seemed to agree. She wrapped her arms around his neck and, with surprising strength, hauled herself upward, hooking her legs around his hips.
“Fuck,” Perseus growled, catching her ass in both hands as he shifted his stance to support her weight.
He guided her hips to rub against his thick length, the friction making both of them moan. It felt damn good already—and he was pretty sure it was about to get a hell of a lot better.
He pressed her back against the tile, his hands slid down, gripping her thighs, his fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp. She whimpered as the shift in angle made the tip of his cock nudge right where she was most sensitive.
Steam curled around them in thick, swirling clouds, clinging to their flushed skin as he drove into her with a deep, rolling thrust. Her scent invaded him—smoke, salt, and sex—and whatever restraint he had left unraveled in its wake.
The sound of their bodies meeting filled the shower, mingling with the patter of droplets cascading from the showerhead.
Her head fell back against the tile as he set a punishing rhythm. “Oh god sss —Perseus,” she choked out, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“You can take it,” he growled, his breath hot against her neck as he bent to kiss her throat, teeth scraping lightly over her pulse.
Her moans bounced off the shower walls, sharp and needy, echoing in the small space like music. Each stroke sent sparks shooting through his body, his hips rolling to meet hers, and he couldn’t get deep enough.
“Perseu sss …” she whispered, her entire body trembling around him.
He answered with a low groan, snapping his hips harder as he drove her higher and higher, determined to make her fall apart in his arms.
Her entire body tensed as pleasure crashed over her in waves. She cried out, trembling violently in his arms, nails scoring red trails down his shoulders.
“Perseu sss —oh gods…”
He kept thrusting through her orgasm, feeling her tighten and flutter around him, and leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice husky and teasing. “So fierce everywhere else—but in here, you’re just a mess for me.”
She panted, still catching her breath, the mirrored lenses of her aviators angled toward him in a sharp, silent glare. “Shut up,” she gasped, cheeks flushed.
He chuckled darkly, pressing another kiss to her lips.
They stumbled out of the shower, dripping wet, water beading off their skin. Medusa dipped her head, her voice husky. “I want to watch you come.”
“Oh, you do, huh?” he said, grinning, breath still ragged.
He didn’t wait for an answer and maneuvered them toward the massive mirror that dominated the bathroom wall. He slid in behind her, one arm firm around her waist, the other nudging her chin up so she faced the reflection.
“Hands on the glass,” he murmured.
She obeyed, palms flattening against the cool mirror as he pushed into her again, slow at first, then faster.
He loved how her mouth dropped open, how her glasses caught the light, flashing back distorted images of their bodies tangled together.
He couldn’t see her eyes, but he could tell she was watching, caught between the slick motion reflected in the glass and the way his desire burned openly for her.
“Ye sss …” she gasped.
He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. “You look so good like this. Watching yourself fall apart for me.”
“Don’t stop…” she whispered.
“No way that’s happening,” he panted. “You want me to come inside you?”
“Yes. Do it.”
At one point, he pressed her hard against the mirror, his thrusts deep and relentless, until she shattered around him with a sharp cry.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, feeling her pulse around him.
He held her hips and drove into her a few more times before he spilled inside her with a harsh moan, burying himself completely.
She watched him through the mirror, and he didn’t look away, unashamed, letting her see exactly how good she made him feel.
They both stood there shaking, breathless, their skin damp with sweat and water. He kissed her shoulder. “Look what you do to me,” he said, voice rough but warm.
She huffed a soft laugh, still trying to catch her breath. “Yeah…likewise.”
He pulled out carefully, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck. Then, without another word, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, both of them trembling as the wind howled outside.
They lay down side by side on the bed, close but not quite touching, the sheets cool beneath them. He could feel the heat radiating off her, though—and not just from the steamy shower they’d shared.
He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then finally said, “How does this work?”
Medusa rolled her head on the pillow to look at him, her glasses catching glints of the lamp light. “What?”
“How much sex do you need?” he asked, moving to face her.
She groaned. “Are you serious right now?”
“Is it like…twenty-four seven? And for how many days? It’s a valid question!”
“It’s not twenty-four seven, idiot.” She scowled and threw a pillow at his head. “But it’s…a lot. Usually a couple of days.”
Perseus ducked the pillow and caught it before it hit the nightstand. “Like five days of ‘a couple of days’? Or two days?”
“Ugh!” she huffed. “More like two days.”
He propped himself up on an elbow, grinning. “Got it. So…you’ll just let me know? You know, schedule it in?” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly.
“Ugh,” she repeated, dropping back against the mattress and covering her face with her arm.
Perseus chuckled, utterly charmed despite himself. “Seriously, though…I’m good for however long it takes.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “But you’re gonna need my dick for at least two more days.”
She let out a dramatic groan, but he caught the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Yeah, ’cause you’re the only guy around,” Medusa said, her voice edged with teasing annoyance.