“Oh, now you're doing your father a disservice,” she argued with Anteros. “Mars is very graceful when he chooses to be. There's a certain elegance to the way he moves even on the battlefield. So between your father's catlike grace and your mother's definite poise, I have very high hopes for you.”
She reached forward and without asking for his permission, pulled one of his hands to set it against her waist. Something she definitely could not have done inside without causing a few heads to explode. “But you're wrong about the fun of a challenge. The satisfaction doesn't come from completing it, but from participating in it.”
Rosmerta gazed coquettishly up at him from beneath her lashes, definitely flirting now. “I'd think a love god would know a little more about satisfaction. Or maybe you don't enjoy satisfying a partner, or maybe you don't remember how it's done,” she tossed his words back at him playfully. “Don't worry. I am sure I can remind you.”
Still holding one hand against her waist with one hand, she offered the other, palm up. “The first step is to take my hand. I'm sure you can manage that.”