Ancient Ties (11 page)

Marek inexplicably broke the mood. He took a bite of cheese and stood smoothly and moved away gracefully. Janney felt him standing behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his legs, long and straight, his feet in sandals. She’d never been a big fan of sandals on men, or men’s feet, for that matter, but he certainly could sell the look. Dusty, long-boned, his feet were huge. Janney’s face heated involuntarily, and she almost giggled out loud. She knew what big feet meant.

I guess in this case, it’s true. I’ve seen it.

Oh, God, don’t think about that.

Janney couldn’t deny it. She knew where all this was heading. The only question was when. Then what? How long before he tired of her?

Marek came back to the fire, knelt, his tunic stretched tightly across the muscles of his thighs. Outside the circle of firelight, everything was dim and indistinct. The only sounds

were the chirping of what sounded like crickets and the sigh of an occasional breeze twisting the leaves.

Janney couldn’t help but focus on his bigness. He was a strong man, and he’d been gentle with her. Kind and sweet with Gaius and Augusta. She stared into the fire, her thoughts whirling, heart tripping. She knew he was right across from her, but couldn’t look up, afraid of what she might see. Afraid of how tempted she was.

She finally did look up at him. Marek now sat Indian-style across from her. She couldn’t see his mouth or chin as he sat, head bowed, hunched over the fire. The light flickered over his scrunched up nose and brow. She leaned toward him, but resisted the urge to reach for him. It would start something she really wasn’t ready for. The quiet stretched out, relieved only by the crackle of the flames, a stomp or snuffle of one of the animals. Her hand rose involuntarily. She wanted to touch him, pat him. Not caress him. Certainly not that. His bare knee was within her reach.

What did he wear under his tunic? Her brows lifted, she bit her lower lip. She didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts, but it wasn’t every day that she sat before a crackling fire in the English countryside with a handsome man, let alone a Roman soldier.

Oh, and yes, don’t forget the two thousand years in the past part.

Marek looked up, his glance caught by her upraised hand.

Their eyes locked. His dark eyes glowed. Janney’s mind went completely blank for a second, then—wham! Too many thoughts slammed through. Gasping at the pain-pleasure prickling at her, the ache in the tips of her breasts and the surge of heat and wetness between her thighs, she knew she wanted him. Wanted him to take her in his arms, press his lips on hers, and—Janney crossed her arms across her chest, squirmed, the movement only bringing more pressure to her sensitive areas.

Between her thighs, her jeans felt too tight. She tried to wrench herself back to reality.

Ha! Reality. What is reality? What were we talking about?

She had no idea any more. She just knew she had to control her hungry, clamoring body. She wanted him, and it was killing her. Making love—having sex—was irrevocable. Once it happened, she knew her heart would be involved. Could she risk it?

Janney felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She had to keep him talking. “You have a villa? That’s where we’re going?” He stared into her eyes. It was as if they were having two completely different conversations, one on trivialities, and the silent one on what they really wanted to do with each other.

Long moments went by before he responded, “Yes. I purchased it and the land three years ago when I was assigned here. It’s prosperous and peaceful.” His gaze flicked back to the fire. As an afterthought, he added, “There are villages.”

“Villages? You have villages, too?” The wine had circulated through her system, warming her blood, relaxing her limbs even as her blood buzzed through her body setting nerve endings aflame. “You’re a regular tycoon.”

A huge yawn, her jaw opening so widely it creaked, caught her off-guard. “Oh, I’m sorry, Marek. It’s not you. It’s the wine and the fire. And the ride. I’m so tired.”

“Well, you’ve had a long day.” Marek pushed to his feet in another graceful, powerful movement. “You should get some sleep, Janney Forrester.”

Janney gasped, her eyes widening as they followed him up.

Her sleepiness disappeared, replaced by she wasn’t sure what.

Fear?
No.

Apprehension?
No.

Yes.

The thrill of anticipation?

Oh, yes.

“You look at me with such fear in your eyes. I’m not going to hurt you.” He stopped above her, his mouth a hard line, his dark eyes lost in the shadows.

“Wha…” She was confused.

Abruptly he hunkered down next to her and grasped her chin firmly between thumb and forefinger. He was close enough that she felt his breath rasp unevenly over her face. Her heart thudded painfully. What was he going to do? Was this it?

Marek’s thumb drew her chin down until her lips parted.

Firelight flickered in his eyes, heating those brown depths.

“I’m not afraid,” she murmured.

“Yes, you are,” he rumbled back.

Oh God. He’s so sure of himself.
“I’ve only been with one man in my life.”

“You want me. I want you.”

“It’s not that simple. I’m afraid I’ll be hurt.”

“I’ve never forced a woman,” he bristled. He released her chin and brushed his forefinger along her jaw, his dark gaze following the movement.

“Oh, I know that.” Instinctively, she was sure of it. “I meant emotionally.” Her eyes widened as his finger slid around her earlobe. She shook, clenched her fists in her lap.

“I don’t know what the future will bring. What I do know is that I can tell by your shaking that you want me.”

She was shaking. How dare he use it against her? Janney tried to draw back but by this time, his palm cupped her neck. “I don’t think I’m ready,” she whispered.

“When will you be?”

“I don’t know.”

“So, you’re just going to taunt me?”

“No, I don’t mean to.”

“Humph,” he grunted before he finally let her go.

Janney silently watched the bushes at the edge of the clearing where Marek had disappeared. Only when he returned, did she realize she’d been holding her breath. He threw a blanket at her feet, grabbed one for himself, and, without another word, rolled up in it on the other side of the fire.

Stunned by the intensity of the last few minutes, Janney quickly drew her blanket around her shoulders. Even as

exhausted as she was, she didn’t know if sleep would come easily.

Marek smiled in his sleep and snuggled down into the imagined warm comfort of his dog, Atlas. Soft and furry Atlas.

He was glad that he’d bathed the big, white mutt because he could be smelly after a day spent tromping through the woodlands and streams surrounding his childhood home. The hound followed him everywhere and, to the constant dismay of his fastidious mother, lay up against him at night.

“Marek,” she’d say, “push that filthy beast away. He’ll give you fleas.”

Acting on the vividness of the dreamy memories, he nestled against the dog, relishing the warm comfort. As consciousness came to him, he slowly determined that the warm body pressing against him had a waist, and it definitely wasn’t hairy or smelly.

And it had breasts!

Huh?
His senses jolted awake; his eyes popped open.

Marek’s curious fingers crawled over a round curve, the hard bud of a nipple poking his palm. Marek growled deeply in his throat. The woman. Janney must have come to him in the night.

Rolling his hips against her bottom, he savored the contact.

In no mood to question this turn of events, his hand stilled, letting the fullness of her breast fill his palm. He wanted to feel her skin; there were too many layers of clothing between them.

She pressed her bottom back into him, sighed, and covered his hand with her own. Marek nibbled the side of her neck, under her ear, nipping until she groaned. He felt her heart pounding under his hand.

A log dropped into the dying flames. He briefly though of replenishing the fire but he certainly wasn’t cold. He was going to make sure she wasn’t either.

When Janney rolled to her back, Marek took this as an invitation. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed with a little frown. Firelight haloed one side of her face. Beautiful. He closed his eyes, urged her lips apart, and then lushly filled her mouth with his tongue. His fingers spanned both breasts, caressing them and gently pinching each nipple. She arched in arousal. His answering groan rolled out from deep inside.

He cursed that she wore her own clothing. It would be so much easier to sweep a tunic out of his way. He slid his hand under the cloth of her shirt and again found the same undergarment as the first night. He couldn’t open it from the back this time, but he could push it up. He did. Its position compressed her breasts thrusting them up. Lust curled through his stomach. Naked full breasts. He had to feel them against his skin. He rose above her, reached behind his neck, and tugged his tunic off over his head.

“Janney, I want…” he whispered and lowered his body.

Oh, Gods, the soft cushions flattening under him. Her stiff nipples poking into the sensitive skin of his chest. He was mad with need for her.

She whimpered, arching her back, her fingers clutching at his shoulders as she moaned softly and sleepily. He wanted to feast on her nipples, the nubs pale in the firelight, hard and enticing. By the Gods, he wanted them. She cried out when he closed his mouth over one tip and suckled it hard up against his teeth. He held her securely while she writhed wildly against him.

Her hands dove through his hair, holding his head to her breast.

He’d hoped for just this response from her, but he wanted more.

Raising himself again above her, he released her nipple with a wet pop. Watched it bounce down. Her head tossed from side to side. She begged him not to stop.

Marek slid his knee between her thighs, pressed it up and stretched out over her. She surged up, moaning and squirming,

rubbing her breasts sensuously against his chest, straining for his mouth.

Yes!
Blood thundered through his veins. Her succulent, soft lips opened for him, and he thrust his tongue in, filling her, making love to her mouth. Marek felt her body rubbing against his, asking, no, begging him to take her. He wanted every part of her, wanted every part of her body naked. Naked, as he’d imagined her at the Baths under that gown. Marek ached to take her, to plunge inside her hot, tight passage until she screamed his name.

Urgently rising to his knees above her, he thought she looked like she was strangling with her shirt and undergarment up around her neck. In one swift jerk, he pulled them over her head, then began tugging at the button of her jeans. By the Gods, he had to get these things off her.
Now!
He couldn’t wait to touch her. She groaned when he pressed his palm over her mound. He rubbed the seam of the jeans against her clitoris.

She squirmed like an eel under his hands, wiggling, sobbing, begging for more. Janney opened her eyes. Frantic with passion and need, she pushed at her jeans, helped him push them down to her knees.

“Touch me. Oh, God, touch me.” She pleaded with a dazed sob.

Was she still asleep? She couldn’t be. She gripped his arm, pushing his hand more firmly down on her mound.

She didn’t need to be any more explicit than that. He tangled his fingers in the pale hairs, drenched with her desire.

Separating her slippery, round lips, he fingered the plump folds with their fringe of silky strands.

“Yes. Yes.” She panted, short, sharp breaths.

Her entire torso, warm, pearly-skinned, and curvy was spread out before his eyes, rough ground, and coarse blanket ignored. He slid his fingers in to find the opening of her body, soft, hot, and welcoming. His own groan resounded in the clearing as he stroked in circles, indulging his senses. She thrust her hips clearly wanting him deeper, her face suffused with

passion; her eyes squeezed shut. She’d gone from gentle moans to sobbing, begging, and wild thrusts of her hips.

Never had he seen a woman respond so erotically, so quickly. He thought he could watch her forever. His breath caught, his own face turned hot. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“More,” she pleaded, straining upward. “Please.” Her quivering thighs gripped around his wrist. “Harder.”

“Zeus,” he whispered at the same moment that he thrust two fingers inside her slick, pulsating vagina.
Gods!
Beautiful and passionate.

Her head tossed back and forth on the blanket, tight fists grasped the cloth, her body drew rigid with unrelieved tension.

“Deliciae, sweetheart, come for me,” he urged, his lips close to her ear. Slowly he moved in and out of her, her inner muscles clutching and fluttering around his fingers.

She shook her head.

“Don’t struggle. Let it come,” he urged. Brushing his lips down the center of her body, he dipped his tongue into her belly button. Her stomach trembled as she inhaled sharply. Smiling inwardly, he continued down and nuzzled his way between her nether lips seeking the sweet swollen nub that he knew would relieve all her tension. Firmly planting his lips on her clitoris, he suckled. At that same moment, he crooked his fingertips to massage the bundle of nerves inside her woman’s body that he knew would drive her wild with pleasure.

Janney’s raw screams echoed through the clearing. Deep, guttural, satiated screams.

Triumphant that it was his mouth that had given her such satisfaction, Marek kept up the gentlest of suckling, riding with her through the aftershocks of her long orgasm. She bucked, pulsing into his lips, her vaginal passage spasming, her female cream bathing his fingers. Zeus, but he wanted his phallus inside her! Blood pounded through his body, desire unslaked, his erection swollen, aching. When he finally regained his senses, he