Page 62 of Thawed Gladiator: Varro

The way he asked that makes me wonder if I just committed the world’s biggest blunder. Am I going to live in the same little room with this between us—worse than the stink of garum—for the restof our lives?

“I… I think I feel the same way about you.” His gaze spears into mine, searching my face for a hint of my response.

“Don’t.” I cover his lips with my fingers. “You don’t have to say it to me just because I said it to you. Honestly, I’ve known for some time. Please don’t feel pressured into saying it back.”

“I don’t.” His lips move under my fingers, sending sparks up my nerve endings.

Joy bubbles up inside me, threatening to overflow. Leaning into his touch, a smile spreads across my face. “Yeah? Really?” I sound like an eager child after being told she gets a puppy—excited and not quite believing his words.

“If feeling like I can’t get enough of you even though we’re together every minute of the day is love, then yes. If ordering myself a thousand times a day not to reach out and touch you is love, then yes. If wanting to rise before you to put logs on the fire and stay awake after you go to bed so I can ensure you’re covered and won’t get a chill is love, then yes. If thanking the Gods that I waited two thousand years under the sea so that you could discover me and revive me is love, then yes. Yes. I love you.”

Closing the distance between us, our foreheads touch. His breath mingles with mine, warm and comforting. In this moment, all the hardships we’ve faced, all the uncertainties of our future, fade away. There’s just us, here and now, two people who’ve found something precious in the most unlikely of places.

Varro traces his thumb across my cheekbone, his touch reverent. “What happens now?” he asks softly.

A chuckle escapes me. “Honestly? I have no idea. But whatever comes next, I’ll stay with you, Varro. I will do whatever it takes to ensure this wonderful, fragile thing we have endures.”

His close-lipped smile makes his face look boyish, even though there are crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Yes. I will do what it takes, too. How shall I start?”

As we sit here, basking in this newfound understanding, there’s no hurry to answer that question. My mind wanders to the future. What does this mean for us? For our life on this island? The questions swirl in my head, but for once, I’m content to let them remain unanswered, at least for now.

“You know,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence, “I think I’d like to learn more about using that sword of yours.”

Varro’s eyebrow raises, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh? You like my sword of flesh?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I swat his arm. “The metal one, you barbarian. Invictus.”

Thankfully, he knows this is a joke, perhaps because of my heated gaze that is definitely not directed at Invictus, because he gets that bossy tone I’m growing to love as he snarls, “No. You don’t get Invictus now. First, I want you to teach me just how much pounding my female can take before she begs for mercy again. I think I will never grow tired of you begging me formisericordia, mercy, my love.”

Chapter Fifty-Two

Marcus Fabius Varro

Laura says we’ve been on a honeymoon. I don’t know that term. All I know is we’ve barely strayed from our bed for days. It’s a good thing there’s still seal meat preserved in one of the last mounds of snow near our cottage. We only stop our lovemaking long enough to spit it and cook it in the hearth, then we return to bed to discover more about how to give each other pleasure.

“I’m glad my woman is so lusty.” I roll her onto her stomach, straddle her thighs, lift her hair off her neck, and trail a line of kisses down the column of her spine. Pressing my thumbs into those two indents at the base of her tailbone, I nip back up to her neck again.

“I love you.” It’s such a gift to be able to say this whenever the urge strikes.

“I love you, too, Varro.”

And an even bigger gift to hear it from my beloved’s lips.

“Get to the good parts.” I love when her voice sounds like this, softly breathy yet demanding.

“And what might those good parts be,Dulcis?” I exhale hotly into the sensitive canal of her ear, then lean back to watch her skin tide with what she calls goosebumps.

“All of them are on myfront.Let me turn over.” She must be aroused again. She has that sulky, insistent sound that tells me she’s probably already wet for me.

After scooting back to rest gently on the backs of her thighs, I track my finger from her tailbone, through her crease, and slide into her dripping channel.

“Not all of your good parts are hidden, love.”

After a pleasured gasp, she says, “You’re a mean man. I have half a mind to punish you.”

“Mmm. Tell me,Dulcis,what does theotherhalf of your mind want to do?”

“Spread my thighs wider.” I hear the smile in her voice. “Lie here and let you spear me with my favorite weapon.”

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