He can feel her desire now, pouring from her in waves to pulse through the forest, and it takes an effort to keep his own influence from joining hers. Eros' eyes open, half-lidded and simmering, as his hand skims beneath the dress and encounters...nothing, nothing but acres of smooth skin.


"Freya," he purrs, trailing long fingers to brush against her folds, bending his head to kiss her jaw. "You're terrible. Terrible," his teeth scrape against her throat, "and wonderful."