Antonia pressed her cheek against Gawain’s chest and trailed the tips of her fingers along his back. His heart thudded against her face, strong and reassuring. His hand cradled the back of her head, an endearingly possessive gesture and involuntarily her fingers dug into his hips.
He groaned and she instantly pulled back, guilt eating through her.
“I’m sorry.” Her fingers fluttered over his naked hips, where his braccae had slipped revealing not simply his irresistible body but also more livid bruising. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Antonia.” His exotic accent caressed each syllable of her name and she forgot about not looking him in the eyes again. “You didn’t hurt me. It’s impossible for you to hurt me.” He paused, and his beautiful mouth curved into a teasing smile. “Unless you stop touching me.”
She flattened her palms over his bronzed chest, and tried to ignore the evidence of his recent attack. In the years to come, she wanted to remember him as he truly was, not recall the superficial injuries the praetor had inflicted as a demonstration of his power.
“I cannot stay long.” She’d brought another slave woman with her, as Elpis once again hadn’t offered to accompany her. And while the slave was loyal, Antonia hadn’t confided the real reason she had journeyed to the tribune’s villa.
For a brief goodbye to the man who held her heart. How foolish to imagine anything with Gawain could be brief. But while she longed to stay in his arms for the rest of the day and night, her time was short.
If the praetor found out about this illicit visit, he would never believe it had been an innocent meeting between her and Carys. A shiver crawled along her spine. Had he set spies on her here in Britannia, the way he had in Rome?
“One day, you will never leave my side, Antonia.” Gawain cupped her bottom, his strong hands warm and firm and quivers of need claimed her. I can’t leave without loving him one more time.
“One day, perhaps.” Every day in her dreams. She forced a smile to her lips so he couldn’t guess her thoughts. “But alas, that day is not today.”
“No.” His eyes darkened. “Not today.” He made it sound as though the fact she would one day remain by his side was a foregone conclusion. Or was she so blinded by her own love and need for him that she was seeing more in his every word and gesture?
In the end, it didn’t matter, except to her heart. The outcome would be the same, however he felt about her.
She slid her hands beneath his braccae, her fingers clinging to the taut curve of his backside. Still clasping her bottom he tugged her against him and his erection dug into her belly. The proof of his arousal sent swirls of need pulsing between her thighs, a desperate need that after today would never again be satisfied.
She sank against him and felt his cock thicken farther. His grip on her became predatory, unyielding, and her body throbbed for his possession. She rose onto her toes, deliberately sliding her body against his rigid shaft, and his groan of frustration echoed through the room.
“I’m going to make love to you.” Her promise whispered against his lips and he grinned in clear appreciation. Their affair had begun through pure desire and the need to experience something other than her former husband’s selfish touch. It was only sex, the joining of a man and woman for mutual satisfaction. How little she had truly known. Had she really imagined she could walk away at the end of this liaison with nothing but enhanced sexual knowledge to show for it?
When she left Gawain today, he would despise her. But in time, when he recalled their last encounter, she wanted him to remember it with fire in his blood and passion in his heart. Even if the fire was nothing more than lust and the passion stoked with fury, she wanted, more than anything, for him to never forget her.
No matter how selfish that desire was.
“You read my mind.” His hands molded her waist, his heat scorching through her gown and branding her flesh. How easy it would be to let him make love to her, to savor every touch and cherish every demanding kiss.
She still intended to savor and cherish but for once, he would not be in control.
“No.” She tugged his braccae over his thighs, her breasts crushed against his broad chest. “You’re going to be under my command, Gawain. All you have to do is suffer my touch.”
He laughed, and with a swift movement ripped his braccae down his legs and tossed them across the floor. She smiled and shook her head in mock displeasure at his instant response to take over.
“Then make me suffer, my lady. My body is in your hands.” Amusement threaded through every word and to underscore his surrender he took a step back from her.
Her gaze traveled over his beloved face. Beneath the torn and bruised flesh, his proud, aristocratic bearing was plainly visible. His dark blond hair hung loose to his shoulders and the enchanting amber flecks in his irises were all but obliterated as desire darkened his eyes.
His muscled shoulders were worthy of the greatest warrior, but she knew only too well how comforting it could be to lay her head against them. His chiseled chest, scored with old scars and discolored by his recent abuse, would strike fear into any enemy. Yet how tenderly he had often held her against him, when the thud of his heart soothed her wounded soul.
“And what a beautiful body you have.” Hunger gnawed the pit of her stomach as she devoured the hard planes of his abdomen. A hunger she knew would torment her for the rest of her life.
“My body isn’t beautiful.” He sounded on the verge of laughing again, but didn’t attempt to pull her into his arms. “Now your body, that is a different matter. And you’re not playing fair. Why are you still dressed when I’m naked for your blatant delight?”
For a moment, she caught his gaze. His eyes were warm, not only with lust. He had taught her that sex could be fun and even if she hadn’t been foolish enough to fall in love with him, for that reason alone he would always hold a special place in her heart.
“Who said I intended to play fair?” And because she knew how much he enjoyed touching her hair, she slid one finger into a ringlet that fell over her shoulder. He watched, mesmerized, as she gently tugged on her curl with her thumb while her finger rotated inside the silken threads.
“I see you plan to torture me before I’m subjected to your touch.”
“Such a cruel thought had never crossed my mind.” She pulled her ringlet to the limit of its endurance before letting it spring back into place. Gawain’s gaze remained riveted on her hair, and she took the opportunity to admire the perfect musculature of his flat stomach.
And his thick, glorious cock that jutted proudly upward across his belly. She wanted to press herself against him, rub her tender lips along his swollen rod and gain a measure of instant satisfaction.
But if she did that, he would wrap her in his arms. Sweep her onto his bed and worship her body in the way only Gawain knew how. And she would let him and forever curse her lack of resolve.
Instead, she stepped toward him and slowly speared her fingers through his hair, tugging at his temples, letting the soft strands caress her palms. Once again she rolled onto her toes and this time brushed her lips over his.
He cupped her hips but didn’t tug her forward. He seemed content, at the moment, to endure whatever form of torture she devised.
She nibbled his bottom lip and felt him smile, but he didn’t open his mouth for her. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him still, although he’d shown no indication of moving.
She slid the tip of her tongue along the seam of his mouth, sculpting his shape, probing for entry. Finally he opened for her and a breathy sigh escaped as she delved inside.
Their tongues touched. His fingers trailed up from her hips, molding the dip of her waist. Knife sharp prickles of sensation shivered over her skin, even though she wasn’t even naked. Her nipples pebbled and she struggled against the primal urge to flatten herself against Gawain’s hard body for momentary relief.
His tongue invaded her willing mouth, intent on possession. She wound his hair around her fingers, loving his length, the silken strands; the way he growled in her mouth as she tugged on him.
She loved the feel of him inside her, the tip of his tongue exploring. Gently she sucked on him, and a feral need awakened deep within her aching cleft.
I want more.
Panting she pulled back and stared into his dark eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands curled around her rib cage, his thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts. She dragged her fingers through his hair and cradled his face, the roughness of his unshaved jaw prickling her palms.
She stretched up and brushed a butterfly kiss across his torn flesh. With tender dedication, she kissed his bruised and battered skin, as though by doing so she could somehow help him heal.
“Do you intend to kiss every injury with such devotion?” His voice was husky as he angled his head so she could gain easier access to his throat.
“Yes.” She breathed the word against his pulse, inhaling his evocative scent and this time detecting the underlying hint of astringent that had been used to clean his wounds. She screwed her eyes shut for a moment, forced the shadowy fears away. Gawain was safe. He would remain safe. She had the praetor’s word.
“Do you wish me to show you my most severe injuries?” His cock jerked against her belly as he spoke and she gave a soft laugh at his unvoiced hope.
“No. I can manage by myself, thank you.” She chanced another look into his eyes and the potent combination of amusement and desire made her heart ache. She stirred restlessly then stilled as Gawain rubbed his thumbs over her throbbing nipples. “Do you wish me to stop?”
He groaned in mock defeat and abandoned her nipples to cradle her bottom. She wasn’t sure that helped. His hands on her body were a delightful distraction no matter where he put them.
“I’m at your mercy, my lady. Do with me what you will.”