He snorted. “I’ve had to start taking my other meals in the atrium due to all the associations this room has taken on.” He rose from the couch and extended a hand to her.
She allowed him to help her to her feet. The firm press of his hand on hers sent a shiver down her arm. “I hope you won’t have to start sleeping elsewhere after this.”
With a chuckle, he led her from the room.
Felix’s heart pounded as he escorted Lucretia to his bedroom. How many times had he longed for her in his bed, thirsted to be inside of her, for her to fully consume him?
He could hardly believe it was about to happen. Surely, at any moment, she would change her mind, think better of her plan.
But they reached the door to his bedroom without incident, and then he was closing the door behind them and she was still next to him, her hand in his. She hadn’t disappeared in a puff of smoke or turned into a bird or otherwise escaped.
He lit a few lamps to brighten the space as she looked around. There wasn’t much for her to see, as he spent little time in here: a comfortable bed against one wall, made up with a blue blanket and an assortment of pillows. A chest of drawers by the opposite wall, and a table and single chair which he used to shave.
She inhaled deeply, then walked over to the chest of drawers and opened the top one, in which lay several neatly folded tunics. She reached in and withdrew a dried green sprig of herbs. “Marjoram,” she said, holding it up. “I was right. I thought I smelled that on you from time to time.”
She noticed my scent?“Do you like it?”
She brought the sprig to her nose and took another deep breath. “I can’t smell it without thinking of you.”
Warmth bloomed inside him.
She returned the marjoram stem to the drawer and closed the distance between them. She glanced up at his face, then down, then around the room, shifting from foot to foot. Was it possible…could she be nervous? Despite her indifferent words in the dining room?
If she was nervous, that made two of them. As much as he wanted this, as much as desire was already coursing through him, he couldn’t seem to steady his breathing or quell the tremor in his palms. It wasn’t just the physical act that made his stomach tighten. He felt as if he were about to give hersomething he’d never be able to retrieve, a piece of himself that would be hers forever.
It was an unaccustomed feeling; he’d made a career out of exchanging, negotiating, trading one thing for another. Money for ships, one shipload of goods for another. Never before had he given part of himself with no hope of getting it back.
“One thing first,” she said, meeting his eyes once more. “I have no wish to risk a pregnancy, so you’ll need to withdraw. I don’t expect you to master the timing right away, so for the first few times, I will be atop you. We will go slowly until you’ve acquired the necessary control.”
Her words were as brisk and pragmatic as when Siro delivered a briefing, but the image of Lucretia riding him, soft thighs clasping his hips, her ample breasts bouncing, sent a burst of heat straight to his cock. “Very well.”
He couldn’t wait another moment before sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “Does copulation usually begin with kissing?” he murmured, lowering his head to the curve of her neck.
She ran her fingers through his hair. “It can.” Her voice trembled.
He kissed her neck, sucking the silky skin of her throat into his mouth until she gasped.
He pressed his body harder against her, which caused them to stumble back, until the wall stopped them. She knotted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head up, seeking his mouth. Their lips met in a messy tangle. She wrapped one leg around his, curving her body along his with delicious friction.
“Does copulation usually involve…” He paused to catch his breath, dizzied from the heady pleasure of kissing her. “A wall?” He wasn’t entirely sure how the logistics would work, but his body was issuing a firm demand for him to ruck up her dress and sink into her then and there.
She giggled. “That’s an advanced technique.”
“What about…” Next to them was his chest of drawers, so he grabbed her around the waist and set her atop it. “A chest of drawers?”
She giggled again, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Let’s master the bed first.”
“As you wish.” He lifted her from the chest and carried her over to the bed. He dumped her onto the mattress on her back, which earned him an indignant squeal.
He covered her mouth with another kiss, cutting off the sound, as he climbed on top of her. His hands worked efficiently to strip her of her dress, and a few moments later she was lying naked in his bed. He sat back on his heels to survey the sight, burning the image into his memory. A flush crept from her cheeks over her neck and collarbone, echoing the pink of her nipples. She looked as tempting as a nymph who had somehow found her way into a mortal’s bed.
He did away with his tunic, tossing the bundle of cloth to the floor. Her gaze roved over his bare body, an amber heat lighting in her hazel eyes.
Her hand traced down her stomach to brush the reddish curls between her legs. “You’ll need to use the skills from our previous lessons to make me ready.”
He grinned, hoping he didn’t look too much like a cat presented with a fat, shiny fish. “With pleasure.”
He slid a hand down her thigh, and her legs parted for him, revealing those plush pink folds already shimmering with moisture. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was well on the way to being ready without a single touch.
