Page 28 of Thawed Gladiator: Varro

When I pick up the phone and tap the screen, the dim light casts a glow on Varro’s face. It’s the soft version of him that I like the best, and… his eyes are sparkling with a depth of emotion I wouldn’t have thought possible.

I press play again and turn the screen off. This time, though, the music is background noise in my mind as it strikes me with all the impact of a lightning bolt that I have a crush on my Roman gladiator.

His attempt to strangle me is ancient history. I’ve decided he was out of his mind in a fugue state, and who could blame him? Since he came to, he’s been amazing, considering what he’s dealing with. Still, he’s mostly shown me his harsh gladiator side—the man locked inside decades of pain and slavery.

But him letting me glimpse his softer side? Well, it undoes me.

We’ve spent the last week sleeping inches from each other. One thing is certain, lying here next to him when he’s in his soft, receptive state, is tempting me to reveal my secret crush. I need to change the mood.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Marcus Fabius Varro

The beauty of the music did what nothing else has done before. It cut right to the heart of me. Not training in the blazing sun until my knees buckled. Not being forced to take the lives of men and beasts for the amusement of strangers. Not having to prostitute myself to earn mypeculium,which I hoped would one day buy my freedom.

None of those things burrowed under my skin and grabbed my heart the way that simple instrument did.

“Pulcher,” I whisper, though the word beautiful doesn’t do that music justice.

“Now for something completely different.” Laura surges off her mattress as though there’s a fire under her. She swipes at the little box’s face and plays music so blaring, so fast-paced, my head spins.

A wide smile stretches across her face as she gyrates, keeping her distance.

“This is more modern by a hundred years than what I just played you. It’s called ‘Can’t Stop theFeeling’.”

She makes sharp clicks with her fingers and sways in no apparent direction, just movement for the sake of movement.

“Come on, Varro. Stand up and move. Just do what your body feels like.”

She translates the lyrics for me, but I soon learn that the meaning of the words is less important than the way the song makes me feel—happy. Soon, I join her and find the joy in letting my body move in the ways it wants. I’ve spent a lifetime forcing myself to do what is necessary, yet I’ve never before danced for pleasure.

Without her needing to touch the box, the next song plays. Some of the words make absolutely no sense, even when Laura translates, but I like that the song says to move, move, move. I find myself laughing out loud. When was the last time I did that?

When another song plays, Laura’s eyes flash wide and she says, “This is my housecleaning playlist. Um. Makes me want to dance, but…”

She’s blushing, which makes me want to understand these lyrics. It’s clear she’s not translating parts of the song.

“Tell me the words,” I demand. She’s made me curious.

Her dancing all but stops as she looks at her feet and mumbles, “promiscue,” promiscuous; “volofutuere,” I want to fuck you.

When her gaze rises to mine, her cheeks pinker than when the wind whipped at them earlier today, something shifts between us. I wouldn’t be a man if I hadn’t noticed Laura’s lush body and pretty face, but I’ve never thought of her with desire. Desire is something I stuffed deep down over a decade ago—well, two thousand years plus a decade ago. You can only be used by so many people before you turn off your body’s natural responses.

But here we are, overly warm from exertion, a sheen on our skin, and Laura’s face pink and lovely as she stares at my lips with interest. I keep dancing as I decide to test her. If she approaches me, she just wants to use me, like my first Domina and the one after that and the one after that. If we get to the end of the songand she’s still waiting for me to span the distance between us, to make the first move—then I will do just that.

Relief is written all over Laura’s face when the song ends and another song takes its place. This one has happy whistling, and the beat isn’t sensual like the last song. It’s only when she gathers the nerve to look at me again that I decide to follow through with my decision to kiss her. Her intense brown gaze is brimming with desire. It’s underscored when she licks her lips in a guileless way.

Crossing the distance between us, I dip my knees to get close enough to breathe her air, yet still, I hold back, waiting for some sign, though I don’t know what. There are so many differences between our cultures. That we’ve been sharing the same room should be scandalous enough, but she’s an unmarried woman and I am not a blood relative. I know things are done differently now, but I wouldn’t want to offend her; frightening her would be even worse.

It’s only when she closes her eyes and tips her head back that I know for certain she wants this kiss.

Her breath hitches as I lean in. Our bodies are close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off her, even smell the sweetness of her skin. Reaching beneath the veil of her golden hair, I cup her nape, waiting one last moment to see if she has any intention of pulling away. Instead of showing hesitation, she leans toward me as though I’m a lodestone, indicating her willingness as she exposes the vulnerable column of her neck.

Arousal flashes through me—a hot spike. A feeling this compelling has never jolted through me before—and I have yet to touch my lips to hers. I don’t know if Laura’s a virgin, though from the music she listens to, I’d find it hard to believe she is. But there’s something innocent about her, so I decide to treat her as though this is her first kiss.

My lips brush hers, soft, just one stroke from left to right. Pulling back, I see her eyes are still closed, a soft smile on her face. I pluck her bottom lip with both of mine, noting the thrill shooting through my body at the intimacy of the act. Breathing in deeply,I catch a whiff of her scent under the odd smell of the heater and the remains of our dinner.

Over the sound of the music and our soft smacking kisses, I hear Laura’s pleasured sigh. Her arms reach around my neck to pull me closer. My body has been the object of others’ lust for decades. I’ve been used as a commodity and at times have turned the table to exploit those who thought they were taking advantage of me.

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