Page 100 of Their Will be Done

Maybe I’m still dreaming. I must be, because Trinity the Wimp would never follow Apollo anywhere in the middle of the night.

Never in a million years.

Right?

Because rational me knows that he’s trouble, despite the cheeky grin he keeps sending my way, despite how he looks like he’s bursting to tell me something juicy.

So I’m dreaming then. Which makes all of this much easier to process. Like when he says he hears someone coming, and suddenly presses me against the wall like we’re in a spy movie and this is just an excuse for him to kiss me?

Well, don’t think I don’t know what he’s trying to pull. His lips barely touch mine before I’m convinced this whole thing is an elaborate ruse.

But then I don’t care anymore, because he’s kissing me, and fuck my life, he’s a good kisser.

We’re partially hidden in one of the alcoves on the ground floor. I think he was leading me to the kitchen courtyard, even though I’m sure it would have been way too cold to be out in the open this time of night.

He barely gave me enough time to grab my slipper-boots, and all I’ve got on is a thin sweater and a pair of yoga pants that have started wearing out at the hems how I’ve stepped on them countless times before.

“I didn’t hear anything,” I murmur in lieu of a protest when he starts kissing my neck. “Are you sure there’s someone—?”

He presses two fingers against my lips, silencing me as he grins down at me. “Nah. Just wanted to kiss you.”

My tummy flips over at that. I bite the inside of my lip, and he must take it as a sign, because he ducks down again and captures my mouth with his.

When he kisses me, it’s as if we only have seconds left to live.

His hands slide down my hips, caressing my ass through my thin pants. But he never squeezes, never gropes, never shoves anything anywhere. It’s like he’s exploring a foreign new land he’s only ever heard of in fairy tales, and is determined to drink it all in.

But despite the fact that all we’re doing is kissing, despite how I’m sure that’s all he wants, my body responds to him like he’s announced he’s going to pop my cherry.

When his hands skim up my waist and begin exploring my breasts, my nipples instantly harden to tight buds.

He stops kissing me and leans back, staring down at my breasts like he’s never seen a pair in his life.

Right—and he never looks through any of those porno mags in the Brotherhood’s lair. As if.

His warm breath chases shivers through my body as he slips his hand under my sweater and scoops my breasts into his hands, weighing them in his palms.

My head falls back. I sigh as he strokes my skin and moan when he ducks his head and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. But as soon as it disappears into his hot, hungry mouth, he pulls back and glances down the hallway like a double-agent sure he’s been caught in the act.

“In here,” he whispers, and drags me into the small prayer room where I first met Reuben.

I’m sure Reuben told them what had happened—they tell each other everything, after all—and my suspicion is confirmed when Apollo stops in his tracks and glances back at me with a sheepish grin on his face. “Is this cool?”

I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the fact that these four boys have been toying with me since the day I arrived. Maybe it’s all the fucked up shit that’s been circulating through my head the past few days.

It makes no sense, but suddenly I want nothing more than for Apollo to descend on me like a bird of prey on an unsuspecting rabbit.

I surge forward, grab his face in my hands, and kiss him as hard as I can.

In response, he circles my waist with his arms and spins me around and around until we bump into the altar.

He lifts me. My ass thumps onto the hardwood a second later. I wince into our kiss and he must suspect that he hurt me, because he darts back almost a yard and holds out his hands, palms out, like he’s trying to fend off arrest.

“I’m so sorry. Shit. That was so stupid of me. Did I—?”

I’m almost fucking panting, and he has the nerve to run away? I shift closer to the edge of the altar and deliberately spread my legs.

He just stands there, looking like he’s trying really hard to remember if he left the stove on.

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