Page 38 of City of Secrets and Shadows
Her fingernails raked across my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. “Jealous, Septimus?”
“Possessive,” I corrected, lifting her higher against the wall. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” She tugged my hair, forcing my head back so our eyes met. “Because it sounds like jealousy to me.”
I growled, hoisting her away from the wall and carrying her toward the bedchamber. “Call it what you want. You’re still ending up in my bed.”
“Your arrogance is—” she began, but I silenced her with another bruising kiss as I kicked open the door to her bedroom.
“My arrogance is part of what you want,” I said against her mouth. “Don’t pretend otherwise.”
I tossed Livia onto the bed, where she landed with a soft thud against the silk coverlet. She propped herself up on her elbows. The position pushed her breasts against the fabric of her tunic, outlining them in a way that made my mouth go dry. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of desire and defiance that made my blood burn hotter.
“You presume much,” she said, but made no move to leave the bed.
“I presume nothing.” I stalked toward her, shedding my outer tunic with quick, efficient movements. “I see what’s in front of me.”
Her gaze tracked my hands as I unfastened my belt, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “And what do you see, Septimus?”
“A woman who fights herself as fiercely as she fights her enemies.” I knelt on the edge of the bed, watching her scoot backward until her shoulders hit the carved headboard. “A woman who wants this as badly as I do but can’t admit it.”
“You think you know me so well.” Her voice was low, dangerous.
“Better than most.” I reached for her ankle, dragging her toward me with one swift pull. “Better than Marcus. I’ve watched you fight for years. I know how you move, how you breathe when you’re excited, how your eyes dilate when adrenaline hits your blood.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but her voice remained steady. “Combat isn’t the same as this.”
“Isn’t it?” I placed one knee on the bed between her legs, looming over her. “The rush of blood, the heightened senses, the dance between pain and pleasure — they’re closer than you imagine.”
Livia’s eyes narrowed. “And what if I don’t want this? What if I tell you to leave?”
I paused, meeting her gaze. Despite the heat coursing through my veins, despite the near-painful hardness straining against my trousers, I would never cross that line.
“Then I leave,” I said simply. “I’m not that kind of monster, Livia.”
Something shifted in her expression — perhaps surprise at my answer, or a deeper emotion I couldn’t name. Her hand rose to my chest, fingers splayed over my heart.
“And if I don’t tell you to leave?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
I caught her wrist, bringing her palm to my lips. “Then I stay. And I show you exactly what I’ve been holding back since... since I first knew what it was to want a woman.”
Her breath hitched. “You hated me then.”
“I wanted you then,” I corrected, pressing a kiss to her inner wrist where her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird. “Hating you was easier. Safer. Now…” I reached down and tugged at her tunic. “Take it off.”
Livia’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“Then I’ll tear it off you.”
A flash of heat crossed her face. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I reached for the collar of her uniform, gripping the fabric. “Try me.”
11
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The air crackled between us, charged with challenge and desire.
“Do it,” Livia whispered, her voice a dare wrapped in velvet.
