Oh stars, he was touching her. He was touching her! It was just his finger against her cheek, but it made her feel like her face was on fire. It was him, she knew it was him, it wasn't that she was blushing harder, even though she was sure she was. It was just Eros. Because he was touching her. And she wanted to ask him to touch her somewhere else to see if that fire would follow, but for once, she actually couldn't find the words.
Because he called her lovely. While he was touching her.
She was going to pass out. Lottie was lightheaded and he looked sort of fuzzy around the edges, still gorgeous, but fuzzy. She was going to faint at his feet like some ridiculous mortal girl and he'd laugh at her.
Or maybe not, because he said he'd revive her. And that brought some very lovely images to mind. But none that prepared her for what she saw next. After telling her that he'd fan her, Eros unfurled his wing and her eyes widened as they went from his face to the appendages that fascinated her so. It wasn't that Lottie was unfamiliar with wings, a number of members of her own family had wings, but few of them were so brightly white, or had such great wingspan. And, she could admit, she was jealous of the siblings and nieces and nephews and cousins and uncles and aunts that had wings. She wasn't jealous of Eros, though. What she felt now was not envy.
It was lust. Pure and simple. She wanted to touch those wings, she wanted to run her fingers over the feathers, feel them caress her skin. She wanted those wings wrapped around her while she was wearing nothing at all. Without thought, and without asking for permission, her hand reached forward toward the gently moving feathers.
But when she saw her own fingers in front of her face, Philotes stopped abruptly, appalled that she hadn't even asked him. Going around grabbing people's body parts was not her style at all. And this time the blush wasn't just embarrassment, it was shame.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn't mean any offense. They're just so beautiful, I didn't think.”