Then his mouth was on my throat as he groaned and thrust up with his hips, mimicking sex. I grabbed one of his shoulders, dropped my head back farther, and moaned, my pulse pounding in my throat. Suddenly, the drapes snapped open.
“Fucking Dis,” Trajan growled, still holding me on his lap, his fistin my hair, but pushing me farther onto his knees. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The praetorian guard, which I knew by the specific uniform he wore with the emperor’s red dragon insignia on his chest plate, stammered out an apology as he recognized Trajan.
“I a-apologize, Tribune. We are in search of runaway slaves. One in particular who killed Consul Valerius. Under Caesar’s orders.”
“Do I look like I have any runaway slaves or murderers in here?”
The guard stared at me, the scar on his lip pulled tight as he thinned his lips. He seemed somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Then Trajan ground up against me. I exhaled a breathy moan, letting my peplos slide farther down my arm so that my breast was fully bared. It worked, of course. The praetorian’s gaze left my painted face, transfixed by my body.
“Sorry, Tribune Tiberius,” he apologized quickly, lowering his gaze. “We are just following orders.”
“Well, praetorian. I’ll pay you and your men a hundred denarii if you close that curtain so I can fuck my whore in peace.”
His grip on my upper thigh tightened.
“Yes, of course. Good night, Tribune.”
The curtain snapped shut, and we were left alone. The boots moved farther away. The litter began moving again, but we didn’t. Trajan didn’t loosen his grip. The dragon glittered in his gaze while he looked his fill. The tension wound tight, heady.
In a flash, he gripped me by the hips and set me on the bench opposite him, retreating to his side and combing both hands through his hair. I quickly shifted the strap of my peplos back on my shoulder.
“I had to do that,” he said gruffly.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I assured him. “I’m all right.”
“Fuck,” he cursed, peering out the curtains, frustration and anger mingling in his tight expression.
“Do you think he suspected anything?” I asked after a moment, still breathless.
“I don’t think so.” He looked at me. “Our little ruse worked.”
“Good.”
He studied me, while I tried to catch my breath.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You didn’t.”
“You seem like you are.”
“I am frightened but not by you. What if he suspects I’m the woman they’re looking for? The murderess.”
“If he did, he would’ve taken you on the spot. Or he’d have tried.”
“Tried?”
His eyes flared ice-blue. “I’d have fucking killed all of them first, Lela.”
I stared, realizing he was telling the truth. He would kill for me.
He combed his hand nervously through his hair again. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
