“No,” he answered, cradling the back of my head as he lowered his mouth to mine. “You need this,” he said, “just the way I’m giving it to you.”
It was agony and torture and unimaginably lovely.
“It’s too much,” I confessed, my voice cracking as I met his slow fucking, rocking my hips in a circle, matching his tempo.
He stared into my eyes, recognizing the tender emotions I could no longer hide.
“No, it’s not,” he whispered against my mouth. He nipped at my bottom lip then slid his tongue there. “You need a gentle fuck, Lela.” His voice deepened like a rough caress. “And I need you. So desperately.”
I cried out, both in frustration and pleasure, the mounting sensation of a climax feeling wonderfully new with Trajan.
“Yes,” I breathed against his mouth, the short bristles of his beardrasping against my lips and cheek as he swept kisses across my cheeks and back to my mouth again.
We moved in the same rhythm. I welcomed his kisses. I hadn’t been kissed since Jardani. Nor had I taken another man willingly into my body since him. I expected to feel remorse and guilt, but there was none of that. Only the desire to reach the end together.
I wanted my own pleasure, but I also wanted to take him with me. I wanted to see his face when he came inside me. It was a fevered, all-consuming coupling, and yet slow, sensual, and passionate.
He was right. I needed it this way. Yet it hurt in a painful, achingly sweet way.
“I’m coming,” I whispered against his lips.
That familiar purring rumble vibrated in his chest. He scooped one arm across my lower back and pulled me tighter, closer, thrusting deeper.
I cried out at my climax, arching my neck. He kissed and licked my throat, scraping with sharp teeth. Then he thrust one more time and held, his cock swelling as he spent inside me.
How could I want this from a Roman, I wondered? There was no remorse, no regret. Was it simply Trajan himself that I wanted? Because he’d offered some kindness in sheltering me, the only man in Rome who’d protected me. Or was it even more than that?
He panted against my throat, both of us breathing hard. Slowly, he eased out of my body and fell to my side, pulling the covers up over us. I turned to face him on my side as well, both of us panting.
He stared, his expression serious when he said, “I feel an urgency to touch you, to be sure you’re all right.”
“Because of what happened at Fausta’s?” I asked. “I’m perfectly fine from that.”
“Not from that. From having sex with you.”
I blinked away the prick of tears that his tenderness caused. He’dsimply made me a storm of emotions. For years, I felt nothing, and now I felt everything.
I reached over and held out my hand, palm up. He pressed his large palm over mine, lacing our fingers, heaving out a sigh.
I couldn’t help noting that I enjoyed the sensual intimacy of simply lying here and holding hands. Another wall crumbled away from my heart.
“A reunion,” I thought aloud, watching the light pattering rain on the terrace. “I didn’t think it would be so soon.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “What reunion?”
“Something Fausta said before the guards came. She had a sort of premonition that I’d have a reunion. I was hoping that meant I’d see you again,” I confessed, squeezing his hand.
“You have no idea how that warms my heart to hear you say that, darling.” He smiled. “And you’re sure you’re all right after today?”
“It’s only instilled in me that I want to kill Caesar,” I admitted. “He doesn’t deserve to live for all that he’s done.”
“I know. So do I. But it must be done by stealth. He may think himself stronger now that he’s found out about Fausta, now that she’s dead. But he doesn’t have you. And I can promise”—he brushed his thumb over the back of my hand—“he never will.”
I believed him. “We don’t have a way out of the city.”
“We will. I’ll get you out.”
“Youwill? Personally? You won’t hand me off to someone this time?”
