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“I wasn’t mocking you,” he said. “I was just trying to make you hate me.”

“Technically, it worked,” I teased.

Grey eyes glittered with amusement. “How misfortunate to have failed on a technicality.”

I strolled over to the small bookcase next to the desk and traced the spines of his books with my fingertips, craving to learn his tastes.

He leaned against a wall in that lazy, effortless way of his and watched me. I felt him watch me even as I faced the bookcase completely.

“Turn around and look at me,” he said.

A wave of liquid tension burrowed between my shoulder blades.

“Darling, don’t make me ask twice.”

Shakily, breathlessly, I turned.

His heated eyes took a dive into my body before snapping back on my face. He looked at me like I was his. Like there was not a part of me that wasn’t meant for him. “If this is our last night together, I don’t want to waste a second not looking at you.”

I allowed myself a moment to consider, because that was what sensible people did. But my heart already knew. And for once, I wanted to listen to it. “I’ll have to write to my parents.”

“About what?” he asked, holding back his breath.

I looked straight at him, confident in my decision. “About selling the Shop.”

Impossible things braced his face. Relief, happiness, fear, doubt, longing. Things a heartless man shouldn’t be able to experience at all. “Nepheli,” he sighed, my name soft on his lips like a prayer. “You don’t have to sell it. I know how much you love the Shop.”

I did love the Shop. I would always, always love the Shop. And because I loved it, I couldn’t bear to watch it crumble into oblivion anymore. I knew it needed a new story, a new breath. The Shop deserved someone who would give their whole heart to it. Someone who would be able to reintroduce the element of curiosity to Elora. It wasn’t an impossible job. It just wasn’t the job for me.

“The Shop doesn’t need me anymore,” I said, the admission as painful as a dagger but, at the same time, deeply liberating. “But someone else might need the Shop.”

Apollo bore into me. “And what do you need, Nepheli?”

I stopped my strolling and leaned against one of the thin columns of his four-poster bed. “Magic. Adventure. Your hands on me.”

In a heart-skip, he reached me, his hands on my hips, spinning me around. My back collided with his chest, and his hardness pressed into my backside.

I untethered, melted, crumbled in his arms.

He took two fistfuls of my dress. “Can I take this off you, darling? I really need to touch you now.”

“Yes, please,” I breathed.

I felt him working through the laces, the bodice loosening until the gown peeled off my body and pooled around my ankles, leaving me only in my corset and my frail, white camisole.

He lowered his mouth on my shoulder to kiss a slow, wet path to my neck. “Are you sure about this?” he murmured against my skin.

Flushed and delirious with need, I veered around to face him. “Do you need me toshowyou how much I want this, Apollo?” I rasped, taking his shirt in my hands to guide it up his chest. He raised his arms for me, and the garment flew to the floor next to my dress. He stepped out of his shoes, and I stepped out of mine, each movement easy and fluid like a dance.

“I’m talking aboutthis, Nepheli.” He groaned a little as I traced the hard muscles of his chest with my fingertips, entranced by each chiseled line and contour. “I’m talking about us.”

My hands paused. I met his eyes. “I know it won’t be easy. I know who you are.”

Tenderly, he brushed the curls off my forehead. “Who am I, darling?”

I grinned. “A dangerous, beautiful, selfish man.”

Suddenly, he seized my waist, lifted me up, and tossed me on the bed, making me gasp at the abrupt collision with the silk sheet.