Max watches us the entire time from the doorway, her arms crossed as she leans against the frame. She doesn’t say much, but she has an unreadable expression as I work through the twenty-odd worksheets with Gotham. He’s a smart kid and picks up things faster than I do. Whether that’s practicing his spelling or doing multiplication, he’s a step ahead of me.

Meanwhile, I can’t remember what seven times eight is. Fifty-six?

It’s simple math, but I’ve gotten so used to using the calculator on my phone, I’m hopeless. Luckily, Gotham and I are able to make our way through it.

Even though it’s embarrassingly hard for me. I admit, I have to use a bit of my power to answer a few questions. An unconventional use of my love magic, but it does the trick. I just have to frame the problem as a love solution in my head, and the rest of it fills in.

It saves me from embarrassment quite a few times, although the effort drains me as I’m using my powers differently than I ever have before.

I’m a god, dammit. Homework shouldn’t do this to me.

Gotham hangs on my every word, even though I don’t want him to. I used to like hero worship as a conceited god. But having it from him feels…wrong. Like I don’t deserve it. After all, I’m the one who coerced his mother into this crazy arrangement. I’m the one who’s interrupting their life with lies and deception. Max may be in on most of it, but I wonder what they’d think if they knew a powerful god was in their midst.

It’s hard watching the kid work. His mind is brilliant, and I know how hard life has been for him.

Shit, I’d give anything for him to be able to walk without those crutches.

Hector comes in every so often, opening the fridge, looking at it for a good, long moment, then closing it and heading back to his room. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but neither Max nor Gotham say anything about it.

Finally, after what seems like hours, we turn over the last page, and I sit back, rub my eyes and muss my hair. A quick glance at the clock on the stove tells me that it’s after nine.

When did time slip away like that? And why did a kid have so much homework?

I bite back a curse. “We’re done, buddy,” I say instead. And damn if I’m not tired.

“You’re lucky Mr. Arrows and I left the movie early,” Max says, her tone pedantic as she hands Gotham his milkshake. He takes it from her and slurps it down. “Otherwise, it would be way past your bedtime.”

“Aw, Mom.”

I get the feeling that this is just normal banter between mother and son. They’re not really lecturing each other or fussing—just talking.

“Hurry.” Max gestures with her head to the hallway. She’s trying to hide a smile. “Drink the rest of that and brush your teeth.” She sends me a look not to mention anything, so I don’t. I just sit back and watch as Gotham finishes up his drink and gets to his feet.

“And thank Mr. Arrows for his help,” Max says, raising an eyebrow.

“Thanks, Mr. Arrows,” Gotham returns.

Yeah, he’s a really good kid. “No problem,” I say. “Hey, next time we’ll play a game, ‘k?”

Gotham grins wildly. “Yeah?”

I nod. That seems to do the trick and Gotham is much faster as he makes his way to the bathroom, leaving Max and me alone in the kitchen.

We both stay there in an uneasy quiet. I have so many things I want to say, and so many reasons I can’t say them.

Instead, I say, “That was brutal. I didn’t know homework was so bad these days.”

That being said, I was worshipped when most people were illiterate, so maybe I don’t have much of a handle on what to expect. Still, it seemed really hard and extensive.

Max laughs. “Welcome to my world.” She watches me for a moment, biting her lip. “Hang on a moment. I’ll tuck him in and be right back.”

She brushes past me, and I almost turn to tell her what’s on my tongue, but I lose it as soon as I get a handle on my own feelings.

I can’t say it. Not now. Not ever.

The kitchen clock ticks down, too loud in the small space, out of sync with my own heartbeat. I sit, concentrating on it.

This whole family is depending on me to save my reputation and keep my client base. That’s why I’m doing this with Max—to put on a show for people to see. For them.

It’s not real.

I’m the god of love, dammit. I’m not supposed to fall into my own web of feelings.

It’s. Not. Real.

My hands are clenched, and I force myself to relax them against my knees. I’m bouncing my heels.

Nerves.

Shit. I’m nervous.

Footsteps at the doorway. I think it’s Max, but then I look up to see Hector. He’s wearing his loose robe from the other night, and once again, I’m getting way too much of a view of his tighty whities.

“You look troubled,” he says with a frown.

I am. “I’m not.”

He snickers, and a strangled noise comes through his nose as he makes his way to the fridge. He opens it and stands there. “You don’t think I know what you’re doing?” he asks without turning around. “What you’re going through? I’ve been there. And you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

I know. Barking up the wrong tree for forbidden fruit.

I swallow thickly. “I know.”

There’s an awkward silence as neither of us says anything. Hector just stands in the light from the fridge, and I can feel the cold seep through my trouser legs.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

Hector looks back at me, as if in surprise. “Beer,” he answers in resignation. “I keep hoping it will show up.”

The unexpected answer makes me laugh.

“Beer’s bad for you, Dad,” Max says, and both of us turn to see her in the doorway. Again, she has that same unreadable expression as she takes her father and me in. It’s the same expression she had while I was working with Gotham.

Hector waves away Max’s comment as he looks back at the fridge. “But you’ll give me a milkshake?”

“I’m only good half the time,” Max says in a blithe tone. “But I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”

Hector looks at her, and then he sighs in resignation. “Just pick up a six-pack tomorrow? Maybe?”

Max nods. “Maybe.”

That seems good enough for Hector. He huffs and then casts another glance my way. “Don’t be an asshole,” he mutters, before shuffling past Max.

She frowns, confused, tilting her head. “What was that about?”

I shake my head, bewildered that an old man could read me so well. “He’s just grumpy? I don’t know.”

She blinks and then chuckles. “You have no idea.” She watches me for a moment before adding, “You know, you didn’t have to stay to help with Gotham.”

“I know. But…wouldn’t a stepfather-to-be help a kid with his homework?”

There’s something akin to disappointment on her face as she regards me in silence. I meet her gaze, trying to question without words as to what she’s thinking.

“You don’t have to pretend in front of us,” she says softly.

I almost flinch at her words. They’re true. But at the same time, I’d been hoping to show her that I’m more than Damien Eros. More than the god she doesn’t know I am.

That I have my own thoughts and feelings. And I want her to see that, like I’ve seen past that tough exterior of hers.

“I’m not pretending.”

“Oh?” She crosses the room to stand closer to me, looking down. “Then what are you doing? Trying to play with my son’s heart and confuse my dad?”

“What? No.”

“What is this whole thing turning into?” she asks, a shadow crossing her features. “We’re spending every waking moment together now.”

A flicker of irritation ignites in me. “Hey, this whole low-key thing was your idea.”

And it works so well, it’s even fooling me sometimes.

“I’m so confused by everything,” she mutters, putting a hand to her temple. “Because nothing’s making sense.”

I raise my brows. “What?”

“Where you came from,” she says. “How you’re so good at your job, yet you’re playing stupid at this. Everything.”

She’s skirting so dangerously close to the truth. About me, about everything.

“That’s why we’ll get through this,” I tell her, rising to my feet. Her gaze follows me, looking up at me. There’s anger there, like she’s fighting everything she’s feeling.

She blinks and takes a step back, putting distance between us.

“Why haven’t you done the fake proposal yet?” she asks suddenly. “You’ve had plenty of time to do so. And now, you’re just wasting time.”

“I’m not wasting time, Max.” How could she think that? Is she not enjoying this, at least?

“Wasting energy then,” she amends, sounding desperate. “Just…stop playing with my heart.”

I reach a tentative hand out to her, and she inhales sharply but doesn’t move away from me. I trail my fingers down the side of her face.

“I’m not trying to.”

Her nostrils flare as she looks at me defiantly. Then she spins on her heel and leaves me alone in the kitchen, blinking in confusion.

Fuck, why did I make love so complicated? I originally came up with it when I was bored, a way to keep life interesting for mortals. But I never thought about how it impacted those mortals. How much it fucking sucked.

I take a steadying breath. Preparing to throw it all away to get some answers. Because I’m going crazy, out of my mind with all this back and forth.

I follow her down the hallway to the door that’s open at the end of the hall.

“Max,” I call. “Max.”

I step into the bedroom, stopping in the doorway to take in the sight before me.

She’s on the bed, sitting with her feet planted on the floor, her elbows on her knees, and her face in her hands.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispers without looking up. Her words are muffled by her hands.

“What?” A chill rushes up my spine.

“Have you fuck with me like this. Because I keep thinking you’re…” Her voice breaks and trails off.

“Max…”

She takes her hands away from her eyes and studies me in the doorway. “You should go,” she says, getting to her feet.

“No.”

I surprise both of us with the conviction in my voice. Because whatever is going to fall out of this has to happen tonight. Because without her, my business isn’t worth keeping. Not just for myself.

She gets to her feet, angry. “Go, dammit.”

“No. Not until we talk this out.”

She licks her lips, and my cock hardens at how sensual it is, even when we’re in the throes of this argument. There’s something so innocent and damaged about her, and I feel this overwhelming need to protect her.

Somewhere along the way, I fell for her. And I have to come to terms with it.

“Please?” Her voice comes out as a whine. “Because otherwise…”

And then everything changes between us.

She makes the first move.

She is Max, after all. The first move was always meant to be hers. Even when I was her boss, she was always in control.

Love and erotic love are my realms. And I let her show me how she does it.

I give her control. Let her take this where she wants to go.

Her mouth is on mine, wanton and possessive as her hand comes behind my head and grasps a handful of hair. Her other hand catches the door and slams it shut, locking the two of us alone in her room.

“I want you,” she whispers. “I don’t…”

“I want you, too.” There’s no way I can hide it now. Not with the taste of her in my mouth. Or these revelations coming to life.

She pulls me to her, even more ferocious than before. Like a beast starving. And I let her. The unexpectedness of it all makes me groan her name in pleasure, and I feel her smile against me.

“I always knew you were a woman who would take control in the bedroom,” I say

She stops and searches my face before a grin twists her lips. “Wouldn’t want to let you down now, would I?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” I nibble at her lips. “Because you’ve never let me down.”

She laughs softly before pushing my chest hard enough to push me onto the bed. “Sit down, Mr. Eros.”

I’m about to make a sly comment, to continue this banter that’s turning me on, but she peels off her blouse and lets it drop to the floor. She’s wearing a black bra that shows off her pert breasts and toned body.

So damned perfect. And she has no idea as she stares at me with those fey green eyes and wild hair.

She straddles me, and I nearly explode at the sensation of my rock-hard erection pressing up against her panties. I cup her ass trying to pull her even closer to me.

She unbuttons the top of my shirt, exposing my collarbone, and trails her fingers over the length, making my skin dance beneath her touch.

“You’re ticklish,” she says with a smug smile, meeting my eyes.

“Am not.”

“Uh-huh.” She sounds unconvinced as she unbuttons the rest, her cool breath leaving a trail of quivers down my body. I guess that doesn’t make for a very convincing argument, but fuck it all. I like it. It makes me feel like I’m pliable and moldable underneath her ministrations. That whatever happens, there will be a very different Eros waking up tomorrow.

And I’m okay with that.

“Does your ticklishness extend all the way down here?” she asks in amusement. My mind comes back enough to realize that she’s kneeling in front of me, unbuttoning the top of my trousers. “Or should I not even bother down here?”

She has me trapped. Either I admit that I’m ticklish or she doesn’t give me what I want oh-so desperately.

“You minx,” I breathe as she takes out my considerable length. I see her eyes widen just a smidge as she takes me in. Like it wasn’t what she had expected.

“Nadya lied about my size.”

Yes, I sound smug. I am a god after all. There’s a reason why we were notorious for being good lovers in Ancient Greece. I’m not too big, but certainly exactly what most women picture when they think of the perfect cock.

“I can see that now,” she says, recovering. “But you haven’t answered my question.” She gives me a long stroke, one that makes my hand clench into her bedsheets. “Are you ticklish down here? Or do you want me to focus somewhere else?”

Another slow, agonizing stroke. I gulp back the moan that threatens to escape my lips, as I lay my head back. The words are caught in my throat.

And then I nearly lose it as she licks the length of my shaft. “Are you ticklish, Damien?” Her voice is thick with passion.

I think a few more seconds and she would have caved in, but I can’t handle it anymore. “Yes.”

She takes me into her mouth, all at once, sucking and running her tongue around me. I let out a strangled cry at the sensation of her possessing me. Owning me.

How could I have not seen it before? How could I have considered her as “just” my personal assistant for so long? She’s perfect in every way. My match in every sense of the word.

I grasp the back of her head, guiding her up and down my shaft, and she keeps me in her mouth. My breath starts to catch in my throat, rough and ragged.

Damn, she’s going to make me come like an amateur.

“Not yet,” I say, pulling her up by the elbows. She looks a little disappointed as she allows me to sit her on the bed. “I want to come inside you for our first time.”

“You’re saying there’ll be others,” she says, and I kick out of my trousers and boxer briefs. She props herself up on her elbows to watch me, her eyes lingering on different places. “So, you’ll want more of me?”

“You’re too much for one man ever to handle,” I tell her. A man, yes. But not too much for a god like me.

I go to my knees before her, a god kneeling in front of the mortal he worships. I lift up her skirt and tug off her panties, exposing her bare sex.

Her breath catches as I blow on the sensitive flesh where her hip bone carves the planes of her body.

“You’re not the only one who can tickle,” I tell her.

“You’re not as good as me.” Always defiant. Always so hot.

I meet her eyes and raise my brows in mock-hurt. “You can tell that even before I really get started?”

Her lips pull up as she looks at me with half-lidded eyes. “I know these things.”

“But I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

“I don’t need—”

Her own gasp cuts her off as I plunge two fingers deep into her folds. Her back arches off the bed, and I give a satisfied smile as I work my fingers inside her. She’s so damn wet, my fingers slide in and out easily. So wet and so ready.

“Seems to be doing the trick,” I say, trying to keep up our fun talk, although my voice is rough with need. My thumb finds that quivering nub between her legs, and I tweak her sensitive spot.

She doesn’t answer, not with words. She responds by forcefully grabbing my hair and forcing my head up, giving me a kiss that is both ferocious and passionate. Her tongue sweeps my mouth, and she possesses all of me.

Max doesn’t just have sex with her body. It’s with her heart and her soul and every fiber of her being.

I pull back, only just, and for a moment, we’re both sharing the same breath. I find that I’m afraid to say what I want to say, to give into this first before she does.

Because she’s Max. And she’s always in control.

Finally, I can’t handle it anymore.

“I want to be inside you.” Need to be inside her. Because I can’t imagine what would happen after this moment if she says no.

But she smiles at me—smirks, really, and says, “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

I could say something else to prove to her that I’m not giving in, that we’re both going crazy with lust. But that would take time away from being joined with her, and I can’t think of anything worse right now.

Her arm snakes over to the nightstand on the side of her bed, and without looking, she opens a drawer and pulls out a condom. Without taking her eyes off me, she tears the wrapper with her teeth and takes out the rubber.

Shit, she really does know what she’s doing.

I shift to the side so I can unroll the condom over my length.

“Hurry,” she says breathlessly. “Hurry.”

Sheathed in the condom, I position my cock in front of her folds, holding myself up on my elbows so that I can look down into her eyes. We’ve come to a point again where I’m back to being the one who’s in control. I lick my lips and watch her, wondering what she’s going to do.

I’m a god asking for permission to enter the temple of this woman. To give her the praises that she so clearly deserves. To give her everything I am.

She cups my cheek and kisses me, this time chaste. Telling me not to hold back.

I thrust my hips forward, sliding inside her, and she lets out a guttural sound that nearly sends me over the edge. I let out a chuckle, and she gives me a scowl that lasts only as long as it takes for me to pump into her again.

“Look who’s ticklish now,” I say, although I’m barely holding on myself.

She raises her hips to meet mine, not taking her eyes off me the entire time. “You really want to go there?” she breathes.

“Uh-huh. I do.”

Suddenly, I find that I’m on my back, looking up into her eyes and she’s astride my hips, riding me roughly. She smirks down at me. “How about that?”

“Keep going,” I say through gritted teeth. One of my hands goes up under her bra and tweaks her erect nipple.

She hisses a deep intake of breath, closing her eyes. So I found her weakness. I sit up, sliding my hands up the curve of her back. I kiss her as I undo the clasps to her bra, and suddenly, her breasts are free, heaving with the rhythm of our bodies.

“You’re perfect,” I whisper.

She blinks down at me, something akin to wonder in her face as she kisses me again, nibbling at my lips. I groan against her, not wanting this to end.

And then she sits up, leaning backward to where I have to grasp her hips to keep her with me. To keep our bodies joined. The movement presses against me in ways I’ve never experienced before. Suddenly, I’m breathing heavy and the scent of her is in my nose. She’s everything I ever wanted.

Our bodies rock together, building up a delicious friction that has her panting and me biting my own lip to keep from crying out.

And then she does cry out, leaning forward, her hair falling across her perspired forehead. She unfurls before my very eyes, vulnerable and so open for me to witness every bit of her.

“Good girl,” I murmur, and she gives me a heated look just before I come, too. I throw my head back onto the pillows, her name on my lips, her face in my mind.

I’ve been around for a long time, but it’s the most intimate orgasm I’ve ever had. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever been with, and suddenly, I can’t imagine an eternity without her in it.

She was my personal assistant. Now she’s my obsession.

I open my eyes in my afterglow and find her looking down at me with a curious expression on her lovely face. I reach up and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. A simple moment, but she turns her face and kisses the palm of my hand.

I pull myself out of her and hold her to me. I wrap the sheets around us, as she lays her cheek against my chest.

Just like this. I want to be just like this forever. I don’t want to be Eros anymore and have to worry about the state of the world. I want to devote every waking moment to this woman. I’ll never have enough of her, even if I have her for a thousand years.

If only she’ll have me.

I pray to whatever being manages the futures of gods like me that they’ll be kind when it comes to my own love.

“This changes things,” she whispers against my skin, reflecting my own thoughts.

I swallow thickly. “Is that a problem?”

A pause. And for a horrible moment, I think she regrets what we just did. But she sighs and shakes her head slowly.

“No. It’s just…different now, isn’t it?”

“It was different from the moment you agreed to be my fake fiancée,” I say.

She lifts her head to look at me. “Did you plan on that?”

I shake my head. “No. I respected you too much to jeopardize what we had.”

“And now?”

“I respect us too much to risk losing this.” And it’s the gods’ awful truth. The world could fall apart around us, and all I’d want is to have her with me.

Her eyes get heavy as she regards me. “Then don’t.”

“I won’t. I don’t know where we go from here. But I do know that I want to hold you tonight.”

She smiles. “We can do that.”

She curls up against me again. And sometime later, I hear her even breathing, even a snore every so often. Of course Max would snore—she’s not perfect, but it’s those imperfections that make her a force to be reckoned with.

I underestimated how far under my skin she would go. And now I know that I don’t ever want to let her go.