“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. You were moving in your sleep.” He wanted to untangle himself from her, but her hand was still holding his against her face.
“Yes, I do that,” she said with a sleepy laugh. “It used to annoy Cornelius to no end. Now do you wish you’d slept on the floor?”
“No.”
She chuckled. “You are so stubborn.” She moved to sit up, and he dropped his hand from her face, straightening up as well.
He could sense her in front of him, but in the dark couldn’t tell how close she was.
Until she put her hands on his shoulders. He twitched at her touch, instinctively moving away, but her fingers tightened on him. Then, something warm and soft pressed against his mouth.
Her lips, he realized, with a jolt of bewilderment that nearly toppled him.
This time, he succeeded in jerking away. He was breathing hard, shock and desire coursing through his body in equal measure. “My earlier decision is not open to being persuaded.”
“I’m not trying to persuade you.” Her voice was deliciously husky, as pleasurable to his ears as her touch was to his body. “I just wanted to kiss you.”
“Oh.” His mind went blank, like a wax tablet rubbed free of writing.
“May I?”
“Well—yes, I suppose.”
Her warm mouth covered his again, and an aching fire spread over him. He wound his arms around her waist, drawing her body flush against his. She leaned back, bringing him with her, as she lowered them both to the bed.
This had to be a dream, he decided as his body settled over hers. But the lumpy mattress, rickety bed, and mouse scratching in the corner were not the stuff of dreams. She was all too real beneath him, solid and warm, her knee hiking up to make room for him between her thighs.
He knew he must be a clumsy kisser, so he let her take the lead, tentatively matching the movement of his lips to hers. She twined her fingers in his hair and opened her mouth, allowing her tongue to trace over his bottom lip.
His hand gripped her thigh, and his hips angled against hers of their own accord.
“Oh!” she gasped, mouth breaking away from his. “Felix, you have no idea how good that feels.”
He moved against her in the same way, and heat licked up his spine. “I think I do.”
“Don’t stop.” Her voice was low, urgent.
He obeyed, his cock throbbing and hard as marble. He rocked against her, and she let out a breathy moan, clasping her legs around his hips. Sensation built and tightened, sharp even through the layers of fabric separating them. Finding pleasure against her this way felt wilder, fiercer than when he was alone in his bed with his hand, a summer tempest in comparison to a spring rain.
She was moving too, squirming her hips against his as she matched his rhythm. Her breathing turned harsh and unsteady. “Don’t stop,” she said again, this time a desperate plea rather than an instruction.
He was far past the point of stopping. He pressed into her even harder, following the instinct of his body. “Lucretia,” he gasped. “I’m going to—”
And then she was moaning, nails digging into his shoulders as her body writhed beneath him.
Fuck. He wasn’t entirely sure what a woman’s climax looked like, but by the gods he hoped that was it, because he had no choice but to follow her over the edge.
Chapter 17
The next morning, Felix rode at the head of their small group alongside Siro as they journeyed back toward Ostia. Lucretia, to his relief, was no longer riding with him on the horse, but sat in one of the carts laden with the salvaged cargo. Out of sight behind him, but impossible to get out of his mind.
They hadn’t spoken last night or this morning. After what happened, Felix had scrubbed his tunic, laid it to dry, and returned to bed, grateful the dark hid his nakedness from her. By then, Lucretia had rolled over, facing away from him. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not. He thought not, by the shallow rhythm of her breathing, but he behaved as if she was. Perhaps she was as unnerved as he was and wished to pretend this encounter had never occurred.
Exhaustion finally overtook him, and he slept until the sun’s rays woke him in the morning. Lucretia was absent from bed, having already gone downstairs to find something to eat in the tavern. It was a relief they didn’t have to exchange awkward, stilted words…though there would have been an undeniablepleasure in waking next to her, in seeing her auburn hair spread over the pillow, the sunlight threading it with gold.
But she’d been gone, and they hadn’t spoken a single word.
Now, on the road to Ostia, Felix squinted up at the scant clouds dotting the sky, hoping the sun’s brightness would chase away the confusing specter of last night.
