by Monica Burns
“I’m not going to deny anything,” he said with a sigh of defeat. An expression of disappointment flashed across her face before she grimaced.
“Okay. Not exactly the confession I was hoping for, but it’s a start,” she said in an optimistic tone as a smile of exasperation brightened her face. “You’re the most hardheaded man I know.”
The comment struck him as incredibly funny, given he was sporting the mother of all hard-ons, and the female penchant for thinking a man’s brain was between his legs. He couldn’t help it, but a loud laugh escaped him. Startled, she stared up at him in surprise, her hands sliding down to rest against his chest.
“Hardheaded?” His hands caught her by the hips and tugged her into him as he smiled down at her. “I suppose you’re right.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she gasped, a rosy color filling her cheeks. His smile widened.
“Disappointed?”
Despite the wicked glint of humor in his eye, she could still sense the bleakness deep inside him. It worried her, but she didn’t probe. She’d gotten him to confess that he cared for her. Well, not exactly, but close enough. Everything else would have to come in small increments. One step at a time. She pressed into him, her hands lightly stroking the strong angles of his shoulders and chest.
“No. But I will be if you don’t make love to me again,” she murmured.
He bent his head toward her, and the moment his mouth brushed over hers, she gave a sharp tug to the towel around his waist. It fell to the floor, giving her the ability to stroke him. He was thick and hard in her palm. Deus, he was beautiful.
She wanted to memorize every inch of him with her hand. Her fingernail scraped gently along the ridge that ran from the base of him to the spot where the ridge ended just beneath the cap of his glorious erection. The touch made him shudder, and she experienced a sense of triumph.
He was hers. She’d finally broken through the wall he’d built around himself. Her hand curled around him, and she slowly caressed up and down the rigid length of him. The touch made him deepen their kiss, and the moment his tongue touched hers, an explosion of sensation raced through every inch of her body.
His hand cradled her neck as he explored the heat of her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. There was something wild and unrestrained about the way his tongue danced with hers. He didn’t give so much as he took. But she was more than willing to give him whatever he wanted. She’d missed him so much over the past year that the last hour seemed like a dream.
What scared her the most was that he might try to rebuild that wall between them. Her hand squeezed gently over his erection, and it dragged a deep groan out of him. The sound made her tighten her grip. His response was to rock against her palm in a clear sign of pleasure. He broke their kiss to slide his mouth across her cheek until his teeth tugged on her earlobe.
“You have a wicked hand, carissima.” The raspy sound of his voice in her ear sent a shiver racing down her back. “But as much as I like what you’re doing to me, I want more.”
“More?” she asked with a sudden, quick move of her hand up and down his hard length.
The action tugged a sharp breath from him, and she smiled as she leaned forward to kiss his solid chest. The tension in him had made his entire body hard, and she loved that her touch had the power to affect him that way.
“Yes, more, inamorato,” he murmured in a husky, seductive voice that reverberated off her skin to create a tingling sensation. “I want to touch every part of you. Caress you until you’re begging me to stop.”
“I don’t ever want you to stop touching me.”
“Be careful what you wish for, carissima.”
There was a whisper of amusement in his voice as he picked her up and carried her the
few feet back to the bed. He laid her down but didn’t follow her. Instead, he stood looking down at her, a sinful smile curving that beautiful mouth of his. The mischievous glint in his eye had barely registered before a gentle touch brushed across her skin. Feathery light, it danced its way over every inch of her. It was as if his mouth were everywhere on her body all at once. It created a frisson of pleasure that made her tremble as the pressure of the caresses increased.
“Oh God,” she moaned as her body arched upward into the tiny, invisible touches.
“I take it you like this.”
Desire and amusement echoed in his husky voice as he slowly sank down onto the bed beside her. He leaned into her slightly, and his sexy smile lulled her into thinking he was about to kiss her. He didn’t.
Suddenly, the sensation of a wet tongue swirling around both nipples at the same time made her gasp as the same wet heat touched her between her legs. A thousand unseen fingers explored her body, touching, caressing, and teasing her into a state of exquisite arousal. She could have sworn his teeth were gently abrading her nipples when those invisible teeth were replaced by the sensation of his mouth suckling both breasts simultaneously. It drew a sharp gasp of pleasure from her.
Christus, she’d never experienced anything so erotic in her entire life. It created a craving inside her that intensified with each indiscernible kiss or stroke of his hand. She wanted him. Needed him. Her gaze flew to his, and she saw his jaw tighten as he watched the way she was responding to his touch. His expression was one of rapt concentration as he used his ability to pleasure her. With each unseen caress, he teased her body up to the point of a climax before he withdrew for a brief moment only to begin all over again.
Each peak his invisible caress carried her to, she was certain it would be the one that took her over the edge into a state of bliss. And every time he denied her, she willingly gave herself up to his mercy one more time. Her breathing ragged, she whimpered with need, her body wanting—demanding—satisfaction. She stretched out her hand to him, but he shook his head.
“Not yet, inamorato,” he rasped.
The invisible kisses rippling over her skin intensified while her areoles grew more sensitive with each unseen nip of his teeth. It was enough to drive her mad. Where one sensation ended, another began. She moaned and she could hear the intense need in the sound.
“Please, caro. I need you.”
“No,” he growled.
A hot sensation drifted over her inner thigh again, stealing her breath away. An instant later, she cried out as the invisible stroke of his tongue swirled its way around her sex then dove into her wet core. It created a rush of liquid heat between her thighs, and she bucked up against the unseen touch. It was a pleasurable torture that sent her over the edge. Her senses on fire, she dug her fingers into the bed sheets as she sobbed from the wicked sweetness of his lovemaking.
“Please carino, now.”
With her next breath, the solid weight of him settled pleasantly onto her. He smelled spicy hot and all male. Hers to hold and caress. His mouth crushed hers, and she clung to him as the tip of his erection pressed against her sex. Lord, the man was hell-bent on driving her insane with need. A soft whisper echoed in her head. It was so faint she wasn’t even certain she’d heard it. It was almost as if she’d heard him say “I love you.”
Hope blossomed inside her. Had he whispered the words or had she—every thought fled from her head as he thrust into her, filling her completely. With each stroke of his body, he branded her his, and she cried out as her body clutched at him in a frantic effort to sustain the pleasure. But it was impossible to hold back the feverish response she could feel building inside her.
Faster and faster, he thrust into her until her orgasm sent wild shudders skimming their way into every fiber of her being. Her body rippled over his erection, clinging to him, throbbing against him. With a shout, he slammed into her one more time, his body arching away from her as she watched him shudder violently over her. His face was taut with pleasure for several seconds, his body jerking against hers, before he slowly relaxed against her. Tenderly, her gaze caressed his face as her love for him filled her insides with warmth that was intensif
ied by the waves of sensation ebbing away like a gentle tide.
“Deus, where did you learn how to do that?” she whispered.
“You’re the first woman to inspire me to do it.”
The tenderness in his voice sent her heart soaring. It was a testament to how he felt about her without committing himself. She closed her eyes. One step at a time. It was a creed she needed to remember. He’d been through twenty different levels of hell, and there was so much he was still holding inside him. He just wasn’t ready to tell her how he felt. The memory of the whisper made her sigh. Had she really heard him say it? She frowned as it suddenly occurred to her it had been a thought sighing softly in her head, not soft words in her ear.
She immediately dismissed the notion. She hadn’t heard him say a thing. It had been her imagination and nothing more. And even if she’d heard something in her head, it had to have been wishful thinking on her part. Sicari warriors didn’t have the ability to read minds or enter the thoughts of others unless they were a Sicari Lord. And she was certain
he wasn’t a Sicari Lord. If he were, it wouldn’t make sense for him to hide the fact.
His head slowly dropped until his forehead pressed against hers. At this moment, he reminded her so much of her Roman general except for the terrible scars. Even the way his body melded with hers was a reminder of the man who came to her in her dreams. Strong hard arms, a solid warmth against her skin, a powerfully sculpted chest, and that deliciously sensual line of his lips.
If he’d died last night … She shuddered. It was the fact that she’d almost lost him that had made her so angry—so scared.
“You almost died,” she whispered. He lifted his head and stared down at her with a frown.
“What?” The tension in him had returned, but his expression revealed nothing but puzzlement.
“When I performed the Curavi. I saw how you almost died. Experienced it. How that bastardo almost succeeded in choking you to death. It’s how I know you’ve been dreaming about Maximus and Cassiopeia. I saw a small bit of the vision you had.”
“Fotte, not that again.” He blew out a harsh breath as he quickly withdrew from her to lie on his back beside her.
“Can we please just talk about it?” she asked as she turned her head toward him. He kept his gaze focused on the ceiling.
“There isn’t anything to talk about. They’re just dreams. I don’t know why you and Atia are trying to read something into them.”
“Atia knows about your dreams?” She inhaled a sharp breath as she came up on one elbow to stare down at him. “You told Atia?”
The way his expression quickly closed him off to her was alarming. It reminded her of all the times he’d kept his distance from her, and she couldn’t bear for him to retreat now. But she also knew they needed to find out why they were both dreaming about a couple who’d played such an important role in Sicari history.
“I told you I’d been talking to Atia. The woman tricked me into telling her about them,” he growled. “And just like I told her, I’m telling you, the dreams mean nothing.”
“But what if they do?”
“Drop it, Phaedra.”
“I can’t. I know they mean something, and I’m worried about the consequences if we
ignore them.”
She pressed her palm against his chest, the beat of his heart reverberating against her fingertips. Deus, his heartbeat was like a revved-up car engine. The man knew exactly what she was talking about but wasn’t willing to admit it. He released the growl rumbling in his chest.
“Consequences? From a dream?”
“What if these dreams are part of that prophecy Angelo was talking about at dinner last night?”
“If you’re talking that past-life crap, forget it. I’m not Maximus reborn.”
“Then maybe you’re Cassiopeia reincarnated,” she teased in an effort to lighten the mood between them.
“Is that your way of asking me for a repeat performance to prove your theory wrong?”
Despite the small smile curving his lips, the harsh note underlying his words made her hesitate. Okay, so threatening his manhood, even in jest, hadn’t been a good move, but she knew humor had the ability to heal. If she could make him laugh, maybe he’d come to realize these dreams were important.
And she wanted to hear him laugh like he had a few minutes ago. It had been a glorious sound. He’d laughed that way that one night they’d spent together before everything had changed. She shook her head as she met his intense gaze.
“No. I wouldn’t ask you to repeat that incredible technique of yours. I’d demand it,” she said with a mischievous smile. “I’m just saying that you and Cassiopeia have a great deal in common. In my dreams, she’s incredibly stubborn, determined, fearless, and loving.”
She leaned into him to kiss the scarred tissue of his face and forehead. He immediately stiffened, and the tension in him throbbed its way into her as she followed each descriptive word with a kiss. Something inside her made her stress the last word.
The green eye staring at her darkened with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. And suddenly she knew in her heart he loved her, and that he was Maximus. He was the man she’d loved and lost in ancient Rome, and she refused to give him up again. He was her Roman general in every way but one—those terrible scars on his face. He jerked his head away from her.
“Goddamn it.” The oath passed his lips as he glared at her. “Let it go, Phaedra.”
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?” he ground out between clenched teeth.
It was a valid question and she knew she was revealing her heart if she told him the truth. What if she was wrong about him and how he felt? No. She knew he loved her.
“Because in my dreams …”
“What?” He eyed her carefully, as if he somehow knew what her revelation was going to be. She flinched then met his gaze steadily.
“Because in my dreams, you’re Maximus … with one exception. You don’t have any scars.”
Her words hung between them as he stared at her with a stoic expression for a long moment. Then without a word, he turned his head away from her. It wasn’t the response she’d expected. For a moment, fear slid across her skin, but it was gone as quickly as it came as he looked at her again.
“Even if—and I stress the word ‘if’—if all this were true, what the hell do you suggest we do about it?”
“I don’t know. But if you’d admit that it might be true, maybe we could figure it out together.”
“Together?”
The way he said the word made her swallow the knot rising in her throat. His hard body grew even harder, and she saw a glint of something she didn’t like in his eye. Determined not to give in to fear, she scowled at him.
“Yes, together. You and me. And don’t tell me that what just happened here was a roll in the hay, either. I bought it the first time, I won’t buy it again.”
The minute he winced at her words, she knew he’d lied at the hospital. The relief and joy streaking through her veins made her weak for a moment. He’d been protecting her from something all along. Cleo had been right. He’d always had her back. How could she have missed that? Deus, she’d misjudged him. Whatever he was hiding from her, she didn’t care. All that mattered was keeping him from going back into that shell he’d been hiding in for the past year.
“What do you want from me, Phaedra?” There was a note of frustration in his voice that said she was beginning to tread in dangerous waters.
“Let me into your life. Don’t shut me out like you did a year ago. I don’t care why you did it. I just care about how we go forward.”
He quickly slid away from her and off the bed. The closet door flew open with a loud crash as black pants flew off a hanger and into his hands. Shoulder blades hard with tension, he tugged the soft leather over his sinewy legs. She blew out a harsh breath of frustration. She’d pushed him too far. What had those bastards done to him that he was so afraid of sha
ring with her? Frightened, she scrambled off the bed to stand directly behind him. She could tell he knew she was there just from the way the muscles in his back bunched up in taut knots.