Page 43 of Thawed Gladiator: Varro

“No. Wait. What material is this?” I reach for it.

“No! We’re not going there, Varro.”

“I just want to feel the vibration.”

She’s been avoiding my gaze, staring at the fire, so I don’t think she’s caught on that I’m hard as steel under these flimsy pants that hide nothing. Perhaps that’s why she reluctantly hands it in my direction as she says, “Thanks for not laughing. Take a good look and then let’s put this behind us, shall we?”

The item is pliable, non-porous, bendable—unlike anything I’ve touched before. It’s only when I drag it to my nose and sniff that everything shifts.

Her showing me this machine had already been an intimate experience. Frankly, I never thought she’d agree to it. Watching the thing dance in her hand was highly arousing. Thinking about it doing its job, increasing her passion, giving her release was making me harder than I ever was with the men and women who paid for my private performances.

But when I impulsively bring it to my nose to smell it, the moment changes. Her intimate smell still clings to the shaft. Sadly, it’s mixed with chemicals, but I can detect her personal scent underneath the smell of the item itself. I can’t control my urge to inhale long and deep, which causes Laura’s gaze to dart from where she’s been pretending to look at the fire.

She’s staring at me with the purple bunny pressed to my nose. If I were a better man, I’d hand the thing back to her, thank her, and go outside to give her privacy. But I can’t escape the compulsion to sniff it again, to dart my tongue out and taste her.

“Varro! Stop!”

This yanks me back to the moment, and I hand her the toy.

“I thought you’d laugh and I’d be mortified,” she whispers. “But this isworse.”

“Apologies.” My tone is sincere. “I got… carried away.”

It’s only now that I notice her nipples are pressing against the fabric of her tunic. We’ve lived together for weeks, and except when we kissed, I’ve only seen this when she was cold. Laura isn’t cold now; the hearth is pumping out heat. Laura is aroused.

Impulsively, I blurt, “Your body can only go so long without relief. I’ll leave you alone so you can tend to yourself.”

She scoffs. “Right. You’ll leave now and know exactly what I’m doing in here.”

“Yes. Just like you know exactly what I’m doing when I tend the cucumber patch.”

She huffs, growing more frustrated.

“If that’s not what you want, Laura, I can… service you.”

I know those are the wrong words the moment they escape my lips. She said my attitude toward sex was soul-crushing.

Her response to my offer bears this out when she makes a guttural, pained sound reminiscent of the noise a gladiator makes when struck with a mortal blow in the arena—only this is softer and somehow better expresses anguish than the sound of a dying man.

“Fuck you!” She strides to the door, grabs her coat off the hook, and leaves.

I don’t run after her, knowing she doesn’t want to hear my apologies. Jenny fires up and I listen as Laura drives away. I stand still until long after the last groan of the engine can be heard as it travels across the island in the dark.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Laura

I slam the UTV into park and yank the key out of the ignition. The quiet of the compound feels oppressive after the whir of the engine. My hands are shaking, and I ball them into fists, trying to get a grip on the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

“Damn it, Varro,” I mutter, kicking at a loose pebble, although it does nothing to relieve my roiling emotions.

In the common room, I pace back and forth, my mind replaying our conversation on a loop. The way he looked at me, his eyes dark with desire. My stomach still cramps when I recall the way he said “service you,” like I was just another impersonal job. Like a john—or jane—who propositioned him on the street corner.

My chest tightens, a mixture of anger and frustration threatening to overwhelm me. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

“Get it together, Laura,” I tell myself, running a hand through my hair. “You’re overthinking this.”

But am I? The attraction between us is undeniable. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t imagined what it would be like to feel his calloused palms roaming my body, to have hismouth on my sex, to taste his essence and welcome him into my private spaces. But every time I get close, every time I think maybe, just maybe, we could make it work, something happens to remind me why it’s a bad idea.

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