Page 37 of Thawed Gladiator Thrax

“I… uh…” I stammer, having no idea what they’ve been talking about.

Skye jumps in smoothly. “I think Thrax is just tired. Between sparring with Varro and our training session earlier, I imagine he might want to go to bed early tonight. Right, Thrax?”

I thought she was the kindest woman I’ve ever met, but now I believe she’s evil. She’s taunting me. My cock has been thick since we sat down. When her tiny hand was traveling up my thigh, it hardened even more. Now it’s firm as polished marble, and the innocent smirk on her face tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

I nod, pretending to answer her question as I use all my effort to ignore the way her fingers are now tracing patterns on my inner thigh.

As the meal winds down, Varro and Laura stand to leave. “Well, we should get going,” Laura says, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You two have a… fun evening.”

My face burns as I realize she’s known what’s been happening under the table this whole time. Varro looks confused for a moment before Laura whispers something in his ear. His eyes widen, and he chuckles as they walk away.

Finally alone, I turn to Skye. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright with desire. “So,” she says, her voice low and husky, “how fast do you think we can make it to my room?”

Every muscle in my body tightens as the full meaning of her words sinks in. This is really happening. Standing up, I offer her my hand. “Let’s find out,” I reply, surprised by the steadiness in my voice.

As we leave the cafeteria, my body thrums with anticipation. Whatever happens next, I know one thing for certain: nothing in my two thousand years of existence has been as good as what’s in store for me tonight.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Skye

We walk, fingers entwined, our pace growing faster and faster until we’re running to my room. Poor Thrax, I’m sure he had no idea that he was so enthralled with what my hand was doing to him under the table that his face wore a vacant expression during all of dinner. Sorry, not sorry, Thrax. I think in a few hours he’ll admit it was worth it. I certainly hope so.

The moment the door slams—too loudly—behind us, anxiety hurtles through me, a tight coil in my chest. The atmosphere shifts, thickening with electricity and desire. We’re finally here, and though I’ve imagined this moment countless times, I’m not sure what to do next. Because of his history, I wonder if Thrax will be even more uncomfortable than me. How often had others made him feel like a tool of pleasure, performing at their whim? Has he ever been allowed to embrace his desires?

When I remember I’m not alone in the room, and look into his eyes, the man looking back at me is nothing like the awkward gladiator who was reluctant to join me in bed to watch a movie not that long ago. He stands, his form illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, thick muscles tense and poised, every sinew radiating primal energy.

His luminous brown eyes hint at the predatory emotions swirling inside him. That expression does funny things to my stomach, reminding me I’m slightly on the short side and he’s well over six feet of stacked muscle. His mix of power and vulnerability is intoxicating.

I turn up my phone and toss it on the bedside table just in time to hear him say, “I’ve been given women in the past, Skye. This won’t be new to me, but I’ve never been withyoubefore. There are so many ways I want to please you tonight, but it would kill me to overstep.”

My breath catches in my throat. His words hit me with a force I hadn’t expected. Perhaps the feeling wouldn’t be so powerful if I didn’t know his past. This amazing man who has been through so much wants to know my boundaries. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the warrior and the gentleman fighting for supremacy. I already knew I was falling for him, but this just makes me adore him so much more.

Parsing my words carefully, I tell him, “I want to explore with you tonight. And…” My thoughts fly as I make sure I want to say the rest. “I wouldn’t want a powerful gladiator like you to have to ask permission.”

His eyes flare, a smolder igniting behind those depths, speaking volumes beyond words. It tells me I’ve reached him, that I’ve struck some chord deep within him that resonates with a long-forgotten part of himself. I don’t want him stuffing down his masculinity tonight, don’t want him begging for scraps. I need him to feel the freedom that comes with my trust. It will be liberating for us both.

“You take the lead. You’ll have to trust that I’ll ask you to stop if I want. I’ll trust you to stop if I say so… and not to treat me like glass otherwise. And Thrax? I hope you trust me, because you can say no too, you know.”

Instead of launching toward me, to my surprise, he backs up a step and bends at the waist, his muscles rippling beneath bronzed skin. With surprising ease, he heftsme over his shoulder like a barbarian claiming his spoils. The thrill of it courses through me, prickling my skin and igniting a rush of excitement.

Just as I’m wondering if I’ve lost my mind by giving him carte blanche, or if he’s losthismind by becoming a caveman, he laughs. It’s a delightful belly laugh, rich and vibrant, spilling from him in waves that warm the air around us. So deep and genuine his shoulders tremble with mirth, his laughter wrapping around us, cocooning us in a shared moment that feels more precious than gold and diamonds. Without missing a beat, he crosses the room, his confidence palpable, and dumps me unceremoniously on my bed, which is now connected to a second bed I rolled in earlier today in anticipation of tonight.

“You’re perfect, Skye. So…” His laughter stops abruptly and his face gets as serious as it was the morning before his surgery. “So…”

He shakes his head as if to clear any lingering doubts, and suddenly the moment shifts. With swift but tender ferocity, he slides forward, his fingers deftly finding my waistband and in one smooth motion, he pulls my pants and panties down and off, exposing my skin to the cool air and his hungry gaze. He discards the fabric like it was nothing more than a veil of tissue paper. He glances at me and a spark of challenge leaps between us, his chin thrusts upward as if daring me to tell him to stop.

The mix of vulnerability and boldness leaves me breathless. My response? A bright laugh erupts from my lips, a sound filled with mischief, delight, and something deeper—something that resonates between my affection and desire. It’s a sound that dances in the space between us, and oh, the look he gives me, filled with appreciation and undisguised lust. It could make a woman do naughty, naughty things. Gee, I hope that’s coming next.

“This is good, Skye? I can let you see this part of me?” His voice thickens with need, his dark eyes searching my face for confirmation, for a sign that I won’t shatter under the intensity of the moment, that I’m courageous enough to step into this arena with him.

“This isgood, Thrax.” My voice trembles slightly, but the strength underlying the words is there, vibrant and inviting. “Show me more and we’ll discover parts of ourselves neither of us have yet discovered.”

He stands taller, as though his strength is resolving, the warrior within rising to the surface. Without breaking eye contact, he pulls my t-shirt up and over my head with such speed and strength it’s a miracle he doesn’t tear it apart. The raw energy is radiating from his body so fiercely I half expect to see it.

The fabric slips silently to the floor and suddenly I’m almost bare before him, rendered vulnerable yet oddly empowered. After struggling briefly with the clasp of my bra, he gives up, his irritation obvious.

As he stands before me—tall, mighty, radiating an aura that pulls me into his orbit—I shiver at the glory of his body, so clearly aroused beneath his clothes. Every muscular line tells a story, a tale of endurance, strength, and the gentle power he possesses. My heart thunders as if my body is now resonating with his, each thump echoing in tandem.

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