Chapter 137 To Be Undone
(Apollo)
“You undo me,” Apollo whispered.
She swallowed, her hand cupping the back of his neck with trembling gentleness. “Good,” she whispered back.
Apollo lifted his head. And the look in her eyes—the invitation, the warmth, the need, the softness—broke something open in him.
Very carefully, he lowered his body over hers.
Adelaide’s breath warmed his throat.
Her body shifted beneath him with a slow, instinctive arch — not in fear, not in defence, but in invitation. The smallest movement, the smallest offering. And it nearly undid him.
Apollo braced one hand beside her head, the other sliding down the curve of her waist, following the dip of her ribs, the soft valley of her hip. Her skin was warm, flushed, still kissed by the heat of Hell’s baths. He could feel her pulse through his palm — quick, stuttering, alive.
Gentle… The word scorched through him like a foreign language. He had never touched gently. He had never wanted to. Until her.
His mouth returned to her skin, brushing slow kisses along her throat. He felt her swallow beneath his lips, felt the tremble that rippled through her chest. Her fingers threaded into his hair again, hesitant but certain, as though she wasn’t sure she was allowed to but couldn’t stop herself.
“Apollo,” she whispered. Not pleading. Not gasping. Just saying his name.
Her voice hit him harder than any scream ever had. He pulled back half an inch, looking down at her.
The way she looked at him— Soft. Open. Warm. It hit him with the force of a blade sliding between the ribs.
She wanted him. Not his dominance. Not his power. Not the fear that came with him. Him.
He felt his breath stutter. His thumb brushed her lower lip, tracing the softness there.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“So are you.”
He hadn’t realised it until she said it. His body trembled, barely, the way a flame flickers when a new wind touches it.
He lowered himself again — slowly, giving her room to move away.
She didn’t. She lifted her chin.
Apollo kissed her. Not hard. Not claiming. Not to take. Just to feel.
Her lips parted under his. Her breath mingled with his, warm and sweet. Her hand slid down the back of his neck, fingers brushing the ridge of his new horn and sending a violent shudder through him that he barely contained.
He pressed his forehead to hers.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered — the truth torn from a place he never let anyone see. “This slow... This… This softly.”
A tiny smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Then let me show you.”
Heat pooled low in his spine. He didn’t know which was worse — that she offered, that someone else had already shown her gentleness, or that part of him wanted to accept her guidance.
He kissed her again, deeper this time — but still careful. Testing. Learning. His hands roamed her body with a reverence he didn’t recognise as his own. He memorised every sound she made, every breath that rushed through her. Slow sighs. Quiet inhalations. A soft, shaky exhale when his lips brushed the hollow of her throat.
Her legs shifted slightly beneath him, brushing his hips, opening for him.
The contact was light — but the effect was devastating. A sound rumbled low in his chest, more breath than growl. The kind he’d never made for anyone.
I want this. I want her. Gods, what is she doing to me…
His hand slid lower, over the gentle curve of her stomach, the dip of her waist, the softness of her thigh. She shifted into his touch without thinking, her breath catching.
“Is this alright?” he murmured.
She nodded, unable to speak.
He kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, the top of her breast.
She gasped quietly — not in pain, but anticipation.
His hand slid between her thighs. Teasing the seam of her thigh.
Heat radiated off her in waves, the soft flesh under his palm quivering with every barely-there touch. Her breath hitched in small, uneven pulls, her body already arching toward him before he even reached where she needed him.
Her body shook with the anticipation. Tiny tremors fluttered along her muscles — not fear, not hesitation, but a raw, aching readiness that made his chest tighten. He felt every shiver like it was happening inside him instead of beneath his fingers.
He moved his hand to the place she wanted him. Needed him. And gods, he needed her too.
The moment his fingers glided down, her hips lifted with instinctive urgency, as if her body knew the path to his hand long before her mind caught up.
She was so warm, the heat pulled him in like a personal invitation. He stroked his fingers through her heat. Wet already. The slick glide of her arousal against his fingertips stole the breath from his lungs. Warm. Velvet-soft. Wanting. The heat of her seeped into his skin, drawing him closer, unravelling restraint in slow-burning threads.
Another shiver wracked her body. Her thighs trembled around his hips. Her fingers tightened in his hair. A needy gasp escaped her. The sound stabbed straight through him — soft and desperate, the kind of sound that made every part of him lock tight with hunger. She tugged at his hair, not to pull him closer or push him away, but simply because she needed something to hold onto.
He started slow. Just teasing her. Running his fingers through her lips, rounding the perked bud of her clit. He liked the way each stroke made her tremble, drawing soft breaths from her parted lips.
Each touch drew another stuttered inhale, her chest lifting under him, her mouth falling open in a silent, helpless plea. The little circles he traced sent ripples through her legs, her toes curling against the sheets as if trying to hold on to the sensation.
Apollo bent his head, capturing her mouth in a feverish kiss. At the same time, he ploughed two fingers deep into her core.
Her gasp broke against his mouth, hot and trembling. Her legs parted wider in pure instinct as her body clenched around his fingers, the heat enveloping him past the knuckle. His tongue brushed hers in a desperate sweep, trying to catch every sound she tried — and failed — to swallow.
Her back arched, pressing into him, a quiet, helpless sound slipping from her lips. Apollo swallowed it with a kiss, his thumb stroking smooth circles on her clit. Her fingers tightened in his hair, guiding him without force.
Her whole body moved with him, hips rolling upward in a rhythm she couldn’t control, chest brushing his with every desperate, seeking arch. The tremor in her thighs deepened, her breath coming faster, hotter, as if he were pulling each exhale out of her with the steady motion of his hand.