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L ucretia felt as if she were walking on air as she arrived at Felix’s house by the light of a brilliant sunset.

Earlier that day, she’d visited the temple of Neptune, where she paid for the sacrifice of three chickens in exchange for revoking the curse.

Coupled with the fact that she no longer had to worry about Felix trying to sway her investors or pay off her crews, a weight seemed to have lifted off her chest.

At the direction of his steward, she entered Felix’s dining room.

The dining room was smaller than she expected, but then again, Felix was not one to host a crowded dinner party.

The walls were painted not with elaborate frescoes, but in the most modern style, which featured a rich red background sparsely decorated with painted architectural details, like slender columns and elegant candelabra.

Lucretia usually found such décor rather flat, but seeing it in Felix’s stylish house, she had to admit there was a certain striking quality to the minimalist painting.

Felix was seated on one of the low couches that surrounded the dining table. He rose to greet her with a stilted nod. “Lucretia.”

“Felix.” A spike of awkwardness sliced through her good humor. How was she supposed to treat him, her rival turned paramour?

Felix seemed of a similar mind, as evidenced by his stiff greeting and silence once she joined him on the dining couch. They reclined facing each other, stretching out with their feet pointing away from the table, leaning on one elbow.

“Marcus is amenable to your offer of apprenticeship,” she said to break the silence.

“Yes, you said in your note,” Felix replied. Lucretia had sent him a note yesterday to apprise him of Marcus’s agreement and arrange this time for dinner.

“On one condition,” she added.

“I should have known your son would be a shrewd negotiator.”

“He stipulates that the boxing lessons should continue. And you should know he has little interest in learning our trade, so you may not find him the most enthusiastic apprentice.”

Felix nodded. “I can work with that. And I agree to his condition.”

“Good. He did display some suspicion about how we arrived at this agreement. I hope it doesn’t need to be said that the details of our arrangement must remain completely secret.”

“Did you think I was likely to tell Marcus I’m engaging in a carnal relationship with his mother?”

The words carnal relationship sent a shiver down her spine. “I hope not.”

Felix turned to the food laid out before them—a vast amount for only two people. “Are you hungry? I wasn’t sure what you preferred, so I asked the cook to make a bit of, well, everything.”

She surveyed the spread. There was indeed some of everything here. Raw oysters, scarlet-red lobster, juicy sausages, fruit from figs to pears, and even a cheesecake.

“Are we expecting others?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

He chuckled. “Not tonight.” He began to make himself a plate, and she gestured for him to make her one too, which he piled high with a bit of everything.

It was customary for a servant or two to wait upon the dinner service, to pour wine and remove empty plates, but tonight, the dining room was empty. Felix had clearly planned for privacy.

They ate in silence. Lucretia tried desperately to think of something to say, something safe and mundane, but her mind could only conjure memories and sensations from the last time they’d been alone at night.

Heat gathered in her core, spreading in tingles over her skin, and her appetite—for food, at least—abruptly diminished.

Felix ate in measured, almost delicate bites. She remembered that about him from the dinner parties they found themselves at together; he tended to eat without the messy gusto that other diners displayed. Each bite was carefully calculated, speared, and eaten with precision.

Again, her mind went back to their moment of passion. He had been anything but delicate or precise then. His movements had been powerful, hungry, almost desperate. As if his appetite had overwhelmed him, reducing him to nothing more than greedy lust.

There was a smug satisfaction in seeing him so changed from his usual scheming aloofness, knowing that she had been the cause of such a shift. She wanted to do it again, wanted to see him undone and lost to passion.

“Does the food not please you?” Felix asked.

Lucretia realized she’d been staring down at her plate without actually touching it.

“It’s excellent.” She decided to jump straight into this strange thing they were embarking on.

She sensed he was waiting for her to bring it up, not wanting to rush or pressure her.

“I was merely giving some thought to our curriculum.”

A slow, wolfish smile spread over his face. “What is our first lesson to be?”

“Anatomy, I think.” Her stomach gave a flutter.

“How academic.”

“Am I correct in assuming you’ve never seen a woman unclothed?”

“Not the bottom half.”

That made sense; entertainment at dinner parties or other gatherings often featured scantily clad dancers, so it was not unthinkable that Felix would have glimpsed plenty of breasts despite his celibacy.

“Are you ready to begin now?” he asked.

Lucretia could tell he was trying to maintain his usual restrained, indifferent tone of voice, but she detected a current of eagerness hiding just beneath the surface, a slight tension behind the syllables. Despite the nerves twisting in her stomach, she was eager too.

Now was as good a time to begin as any, so she nodded. “If you’re finished eating.”

He slid his plate away with quick finality. “One thing first.” He rose from the table, went to the door, and called out to whatever servant was lurking in the corridor. “Bring some more lamps, please.”

A flush heated her cheeks as Felix returned to the table.

The mention of lamps somehow made her fully comprehend what they were about to do—even though it was all her idea.

She was going to bare herself to him. To let him look at her, in a way even Cornelius hadn’t done.

Of course, Cornelius had seen all parts of her over the course of their marriage, but she had never intentionally displayed herself to him.

Two servants brought a pair of tall oil lamps, the metal stands elaborately worked in a pattern of twisting vines. Felix instructed them to place the lamps directly between him and Lucretia, after which they lit the lamps and departed without a word.

Lucretia’s heart thumped once they were alone again. An answering pulse throbbed between her legs. Divine Juno, was she really about to do this?

She swallowed hard, mouth gone dry.

Felix glanced at her. “Are you nervous?”

“No.” The breathiness to her voice belied the denial.

“You don’t have to do this, Lucretia.”

She knew that. This had, after all, been her idea from the very beginning. But the prospect his words evoked—the idea of getting up and leaving—made her realize how much she wanted this. She wanted his gaze, wanted his hunger.

Before she could reason herself out of it, she straightened up on the couch, pivoting to face Felix, and gathered a fistful of her dress to draw it up to her knees. One foot rested on the floor, the other sank into the surface of the plush couch, her knee bent.

Felix leaned closer, as if drawn to her by an invisible string. His intense focus was both gratifying and daunting. She hoped whatever expectations he had formed in his mind over the years, he wouldn’t be disappointed.

She continued raising her dress, baring her thighs. Finally, she drew the fabric up to her hips, revealing everything to his hungry gaze.

He exhaled, and she realized he’d been holding his breath. His gaze lifted briefly to her face, and the tentative reverence in his eyes gave her a surge of confidence. She lay back against the pillows behind her, allowing her legs to fall open.

She trailed her fingers over herself, luxuriating in the sensation that sparked. A muscle pulsed in Felix’s jaw.

“Is this how you imagined it?” she asked, voice husky.

He cleared his throat. “I did not think it would be so…pink.”

She blushed. It was pink because she desired him.

Having her need laid bare like this should be embarrassing, but it was impossible to be abashed with him looking at her like that, naked lust etched in every plane of his face, his fists clenched tight at his sides as if he had to restrain himself from reaching for her.

Lucretia drifted her finger to the apex of her quim. “This is the place that gives the greatest pleasure.”

His eyes tracked her movement. “I see.”

“And this…” She moved her fingers down, between her folds. “Is where, er…” She couldn’t find the words, so instead, she slipped one finger inside. Her channel was already slick with wanting.

Heat flared in his gaze. “I see,” he said again, voice hoarser this time. “Is it not strange for the two to be so far apart?”

“It does take some finesse at times, to find pleasure with a man.”

“Fascinating,” he murmured. “May I touch you?”

Lucretia nodded. She expected him to go straight for her center, and she braced herself for a surge of sensation.

Instead, he laid a hand on her lower leg, near her ankle. He brushed gently upward, following the curve of her calf. She shivered when his hand passed over the underside of her knee, unexpectedly ticklish. His mouth twitched at her reaction.

His hand moved slowly upward, the touch lightening until it was just the tips of his fingers grazing the inside of her thigh. She couldn’t help shifting beneath him, her body searching for more sensation.

Then his fingers reached the curls on the edge of her sex. She caught her breath, holding it as he delicately explored her folds. His brow furrowed in concentration.