Christus
, she’d never experienced anything so erotic in her entire life. It created a craving inside her that intensified with each indiscernible kiss or stroke of his hand. She wanted him. Needed him. Her gaze flew to his, and she saw his jaw tighten as he watched the way she was responding to his touch. His expression was one of rapt concentration as he used his ability to pleasure her. With each unseen caress, he teased her body up to the point of a climax before he withdrew for a brief moment only to begin all over again.
Each peak his invisible caress carried her to, she was certain it would be the one that took her over the edge into a state of bliss. And every time he denied her, she willingly gave herself up to his mercy one more time. Her breathing ragged, she whimpered with need, her body wanting—demanding—satisfaction. She stretched out her hand to him, but he shook his head.
“Not yet, i
namorato
,” he rasped.
The invisible kisses rippling over her skin intensified while her areoles grew more sensitive with each unseen nip of his teeth. It was enough to drive her mad. Where one sensation ended, another began. She moaned and she could hear the intense need in the sound.
“Please, c
aro
. I
need
you.”
“No,” he growled.
A hot sensation drifted over her inner thigh again, stealing her breath away. An instant later, she cried out as the invisible stroke of his tongue swirled its way around her sex then dove into her wet core. It created a rush of liquid heat between her thighs, and she bucked up against the unseen touch. It was a pleasurable torture that sent her over the edge. Her senses on fire, she dug her fingers into the bed sheets as she sobbed from the wicked sweetness of his lovemaking.
“Please c
arino
,
now
.”
With her next breath, the solid weight of him settled pleasantly onto her. He smelled spicy hot and all male. Hers to hold and caress. His mouth crushed hers, and she clung to him as the tip of his erection pressed against her sex. Lord, the man was hell-bent on driving her insane with need. A soft whisper echoed in her head. It was so faint she wasn’t even certain she’d heard it. It was almost as if she’d heard him say “I love you.”
Hope blossomed inside her. Had he whispered the words or had she—every thought fled from her head as he thrust into her, filling her completely. With each stroke of his body, he branded her his, and she cried out as her body clutched at him in a frantic effort to sustain the pleasure. But it was impossible to hold back the feverish response she could feel building inside her.
Faster and faster, he thrust into her until her orgasm sent wild shudders skimming their way into every fiber of her being. Her body rippled over his erection, clinging to him, throbbing against him. With a shout, he slammed into her one more time, his body arching away from her as she watched him shudder violently over her. His face was taut with pleasure for several seconds, his body jerking against hers, before he slowly relaxed against her. Tenderly, her gaze caressed his face as her love for him filled her insides with warmth that was intensified by the waves of sensation ebbing away like a gentle tide.
“Deus, where did you learn how to do that?” she whispered.
“You’re the first woman to inspire me to do it.”
The tenderness in his voice sent her heart soaring. It was a testament to how he felt about her without committing himself. She closed her eyes. One step at a time. It was a creed she needed to remember. He’d been through twenty different levels of hell, and there was so much he was still holding inside him. He just wasn’t ready to tell her how he felt. The memory of the whisper made her sigh. Had she really heard him say it? She frowned as it suddenly occurred to her it had been a thought sighing softly in her head, not soft words in her ear.
She immediately dismissed the notion. She hadn’t heard him say a thing. It had been her imagination and nothing more. And even if she’d heard something in her head, it had to have been wishful thinking on her part. Sicari warriors didn’t have the ability to read minds or enter the thoughts of others unless they were a Sicari Lord. And she was cert
ain
he wasn’t a Sicari Lord. If he were, it wouldn’t make sense for him to hide the fact.
His head slowly dropped until his forehead pressed against hers. At this moment, he reminded her so much of her Roman general except for the terrible scars. Even the way his body melded with hers was a reminder of the man who came to her in her dreams. Strong hard arms, a solid warmth against her skin, a powerfully sculpted chest, and that deliciously sensual line of his lips.
If he’d died last night … She shuddered. It was the fact that she’d almost lost him that had made her so angry—so scared.
“You almost died,” she whispered. He lifted his head and stared down at her with a frown.
“What?” The tension in him had returned, but his expression revealed nothing but puzzlement.
“When I performed the
Curavi
. I saw how you almost died. Experienced it. How that
bastardo
almost succeeded in choking you to death. It’s how I know you’ve been dreaming about Maximus and Cassiopeia. I saw a small bit of the vision you had.”
“F
otte
, not t
hat
again.” He blew out a harsh breath as he quickly withdrew from her to lie on his back beside her.
“Can we please just talk about it?” she asked as she turned her head toward him. He kept his gaze focused on the ceiling.
“There isn’t anything to talk about. They’re just dreams. I don’t know why you and Atia are trying to read something into them.”
“Atia knows about your dreams?” She inhaled a sharp breath as she came up on one elbow to stare down at him. “You told Atia?”
The way his expression quickly closed him off to her was alarming. It reminded her of all the times he’d kept his distance from her, and she couldn’t bear for him to retreat now. But she also knew they needed to find out why they were both dreaming about a couple who’d played such an important role in Sicari history.
“I told you I’d been talking to Atia. The woman tricked me into telling her about them,” he growled. “And just like I told her, I’m telling you, the dreams mean
nothing
.”
“But what if they do?”
“Drop it, Phaedra.”
“I can’t. I know they mean something, and I’m worried about the consequences if we
ignore them.”
She pressed her palm against his chest, the beat of his heart reverberating against her fingertips. Deus, his heartbeat was like a revved-up car engine. The man knew exactly what she was talking about but wasn’t willing to admit it. He released the growl rumbling in his chest.
“Consequences? From a dream?”
“What if these dreams are part of that prophecy Angelo was talking about at dinner last night?”
“If you’re talking that past-life crap, forget it. I’m not Maximus reborn.”
“Then maybe you’re Cassiopeia reincarnated,” she teased in an effort to lighten the mood between them.
“Is that your way of asking me for a repeat performance to prove your theory wrong?”
Despite the small smile curving his lips, the harsh note underlying his words made her hesitate. Okay, so threatening his manhood, even in jest, hadn’t been a good move, but she knew humor had the ability to heal. If she could make him laugh, maybe he’d come to realize these dreams were important.
And she wanted to hear him laugh like he had a few minutes ago. It had been a glorious sound. He’d laughed that way that one night they’d spent together before everything had changed. She shook her head as she met his intense gaze.
“No. I wouldn’t
ask
you to repeat that incredible technique of yours. I’d
demand
it,” she said with a mischievous smile. “I’m just saying that you and Cassiopeia have a great deal in common. In my dreams, she’s incredibly stubborn, determined, fearless, and loving.”
She leaned into him to kiss the scarred tissue of his face and forehead. He immediately stiffened, and the tension in him throbbed its way into her as she followed each descriptive word with a kiss. Something inside her made her stress the last word.
The green eye staring at her darkened with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. And suddenly she knew in her heart he loved her, and that he was Maximus. He was the man she’d loved and lost in ancient Rome, and she refused to give him up again. He was her Roman general in every way but one—those terrible scars on his face. He jerked his head away from her.
“G
oddamn it.
” The oath passed his lips as he glared at her. “Let it go, Phaedra.”
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?” he ground out between clenched teeth.
It was a valid question and she knew she was revealing her heart if she told him the truth. What if she was wrong about him and how he felt? No. She knew he loved her.
“Because in my dreams …”
“What?” He eyed her carefully, as if he somehow knew what her revelation was going to be. She flinched then met his gaze steadily.
“Because in my dreams, you’re Maximus … with one exception. You don’t have
any
scars.”
Her words hung between them as he stared at her with a stoic expression for a long moment. Then without a word, he turned his head away from her. It wasn’t the response she’d expected. For a moment, fear slid across her skin, but it was gone as quickly as it came as he looked at her again.
“Even if—and I stress the word ‘if’—if all this were true, what the hell do you suggest we do about it?”
“I don’t know. But if you’d admit that it might be true, maybe we could figure it out together.”
“Together?”
The way he said the word made her swallow the knot rising in her throat. His hard body grew even harder, and she saw a glint of something she didn’t like in his eye. Determined not to give in to fear, she scowled at him.
“Yes, together. You and me. And don’t tell me that what just happened here was a roll in the hay, either. I bought it the first time, I won’t buy it again.”
The minute he winced at her words, she knew he’d lied at the hospital. The relief and joy streaking through her veins made her weak for a moment. He’d been protecting her from something all along. Cleo had been right. He’d always had her back. How could she have missed that? De
us
, she’d misjudged him. Whatever he was hiding from her, she didn’t care. All that mattered was keeping him from going back into that shell he’d been hiding in for the past year.
“What do you want from me, Phaedra?” There was a note of frustration in his voice that said she was beginning to tread in dangerous waters.
“Let me into your life. Don’t shut me out like you did a year ago. I don’t care why you did it. I just care about how we go forward.”
He quickly slid away from her and off the bed. The closet door flew open with a loud crash as black pants flew off a hanger and into his hands. Shoulder blades hard with tension, he tugged the soft leather over his sinewy legs. She blew out a harsh breath of frustration. She’d pushed him too far. What had those bastards done to him that he was so afraid of sharing with her? Frightened, she scrambled off the bed to stand directly behind him. She could tell he knew she was there just from the way the muscles in his back bunched up in taut knots.
“Damn it, Lysander Condellaire, talk to me. Don’t walk away from me.”
“We’ve a job to do. Get dressed.” The sharp command left her reeling.
“Just like that? We’re back to where we started before you made love to me?”
He became a statue at the question, his back a symmetrical line of tense beauty that DaVinci would have loved to have sculpted. His head dropped down toward his chest as he shook his head.
“
Il Christi omnipotentia
, woman, give me some breathing room.” There was a desperate note in his voice and it made her ache for him.
“If I give you breathing room, you’ll come up with a reason to run away from me again,” she whispered, her voice cracking with fear as she struggled to hold back tears.
The silence in the room was a ship’s anchor on her shoulders as she waited for him to say something. Anything. When he slowly turned around, her heart lodged in her throat. He looked trapped.
Merda.
She’d pushed him into a corner. If they had a chance together at all, he’d have to come to her. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t push the issue with him.
She whirled away from him and went searching for her clothes. She quickly found her jeans and underwear. The bra was useless. She suppressed the memory of how it got ripped. Her T-shirt was in the sitting room and would have to suffice until she got to her room.
With a sharp tug, she pulled her jeans on, eager to leave. The heat of him suddenly pressed into her back, and his strong hands settled on the curve of her shoulders. The gentle touch sent a tremor blasting through her. De
us
, the power this man had over her was so strong, she knew she was willing to do anything for him.
“I’m not running, i
namorato
.” A shiver skated down her back as the warmth of his breath fanned across her bare back. “The other day you said we needed ground rules. I agree. I’m just not sure what they are yet.”
Relief spread through her, and she turned around to wrap her arms around his bare waist. Pressing one cheek into his chest, she swallowed the knot in her throat as he held her close. This time the silence between them was comforting, and she squeezed back tears for the tenderness she could feel in his embrace. He’d taken the first step. She couldn’t ask him for more than that.
He’d endured so much at the hands of the Praetorians. What she’d gone through yesterday was nothing compared to what he’d suffered. But it allowed her to understand his need for order and an ability to control what happened in his life. Yesterday she’d been helpless to stop what happened to her, and he’d been just as helpless a year ago. She’d been pushing so hard, she’d lost sight of the fact that he still had a lot of healing to do.
