He leaned his back against the tree trunk. “Be fine…in a minute.”
“Here. Sit.” Gently, she tugged on his arm, pulling him away from the tree and leading him toward the pallet of blankets and pillows against the tent wall. Warmth flowed from her hand into his; then softness enveloped his body, the cotton silky against the bare skin of his back.
She knelt next to him and rested her hands on her thighs. “What did they do to you?”
He leaned back in the pillows, closed his eyes, and slowly relaxed as the last emotions seeped out of his body. “Nothing. Just—”
He drew in another breath then slowly let it out. He wasn’t about to admit his biggest weakness to the girl he wanted to jump his bones.
“It hurt, didn’t it? I saw the way you reacted when they were tying you to the tree, like you were in pain. Why don’t you react that way when I touch you?”
His eyes popped open. She knew? For a smart guy, he was slow on the uptake when it came to her. Implications ricocheted through his mind. But the only thing he could focus on was the fantasy he’d been toying with before—the one of her in the black leather outfit, touching him, whipping him, ordering him to do any and every X-rated thing she wanted. “’Cause your touch feels good.”
Her brow dropped low. “I don’t understand. I mean, considering what I did to that guard back in Argolea, my touch should be worse, not better. Why am I different?”
“Don’t know, just…”
Dammit, he didn’t want to think anymore. He just wanted her to touch him again, to chase away the lingering pain, to make him feel alive. He needed it, more than he needed to know who she was or what she was really after.
“Put your hands on me again, Tasa. You’re the only one who can.”
Chapter Seven
Natasa stared into Titus’s mesmerizing hazel eyes and swallowed hard. She tried to resist, but there was something about him. Some pull she couldn’t seem to fight. Some need growing inside her with every passing second.
She licked her lips. Shifted her knees forward even though she knew she shouldn’t. Her gaze flicked to his bare chest. To his arms resting at his sides against the blankets, the shredded ropes still wrapped around his wrists. To his chiseled six-pack abs, rising and falling with his shallow breaths.
She wanted to touch him. Wanted to know if he was as hard and smooth as she imagined. As she’d felt pressed up against her in those trees. She lifted a hand, held it out, hesitated over his bare skin, her mind warring with common sense. “I—”
His hand captured hers, and a cool sensation slid from his fingers into hers. He tugged on her arm until her palm landed against the rock-solid surface of his chest.
A slow, gentle sigh escaped his lips.
The air churned around her. A fresh gust that filled her lungs, eased the fever she lived with every hour, and blew a calming breath all across her skin.
She drew it in. His spicy, masculine scent filled her nose. Tingles rushed over her flesh, soothing her irritable edges. And oh, he was hard beneath her hand. Silky skin over carved muscle and bone. Reflexively, she brushed her fingers against his muscles, loving the texture, the dips and angles of his rib cage, the way he groaned with every tiny movement.
As if she were the one who could soothe him. As if he needed only her.
Rough fingertips caressed the back of her hand and sent stimulating sensations all along her flesh. She glanced down, his tanned skin such a contrast with her much paler hand, then looked at his face. His eyes were once again closed, but unlike when those guards had touched him, this time pleasure toyed with his features. And a wicked, tantalizing smile curled his tempting lips.
That pull to him grew stronger. The irritability she was so used to eased. Normally, around others, she felt boxed in, trapped, and every breath was more stifling than the last. But next to him…touching him…all she could think about was what it would be like to brush her fingers over other parts of his body. What his naked skin would feel like sliding over hers. How thick and exhilarating he would be pushing deep inside her body.
“Gods,” he whispered. “That feels so damn good.”
It felt good to her too. She scooted closer and licked her lips again. “It doesn’t hurt?”
“Are you kidding?” He chuckled, and vibrations zinged up her fingers, shooting straight to her center. “You feel like heaven.”
Heat grew in her belly. An ache condensed between her legs, sending scorching threads of desire all through her core. The kind that overwhelmed the senses. The kind that begged to be sated.
His free hand closed over hers against her thigh. The frayed rope tickled her leg. He tugged again, not gently this time but quickly, until her weight shifted out from under her, and she fell against every hard, muscular inch of him.
She gasped, but the sensations rushing from his skin into hers were so invigorating, so restorative, she couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped from her lips. And then she didn’t want to because—oh gods—he felt good. The length of his body was flush against hers, easing the burn, calming her frazzled nerve endings, making her want in ways she never had before.
“You’re so hot, ligos Vesuvius.”
His sensual voice cut through the haze. Pressure built beneath her ribs. “Too hot?” She tried to sit up. “I—”
His arms closed around her, and he held her tight as if he didn’t ever want to let her go. “Not too hot. Never too hot.”
Her lashes lifted. Slowly, she met his gaze, and her breath caught. Energy crackled between them. A sizzle and arc she felt everywhere. His eyes seemed to be looking deep inside a part of her no one else had ever seen. Little warning flags fired off in her mind. “You…you shouldn’t be near me. I’m not what you think I am.”
“What do I think you are?”
She had no idea. She just knew she didn’t want to hurt him. Not like she had that guard. And the longer he stayed with her, the greater the chances she’d do just that. “I think…you’re blind to the real me.”
A chuckle rumbled through his chest, permeated her own, and brought another rush of refreshing tingles to her skin. His hand moved from the small of her back to her hair. His thick fingers sifted through her curly locks. “You know, the ancient Greeks thought having red hair was a sign of being a vampire.”
She lifted her head to get a better look at his face. “You think I’m going to suck your blood?”
His whole body tightened beneath her, and a smile played with the edges of his mouth. “At the moment, I’m hoping you’ll suck something else.”
He was cracking jokes. She couldn’t help it. She laughed. And oh, it felt good to laugh. To smile. She couldn’t remember the last time the pressure in her chest was gone and a lightness like she was experiencing now floated through her limbs. “Titus, I—”
He lifted his head, and before she could get the rest of the words out, his lips pressed against hers.
Soft. Cool. Electric. Tingles rushed through her whole body. She knew she shouldn’t let him kiss her, should be pushing away right this very second, but she couldn’t. And when he nipped at her lower lip, when she felt the tip of his tongue slide across the seam of her mouth, she gave up the fight. She opened to him, drew his warm, slick tongue inside, and tasted him for the very first time.
Thought fled. Reason disappeared. All the protests she’d been about to voice drifted out of her reach.
He was like a waterfall. Like a cool flood of relief, pouring over her skin, easing the burn from the outside in. Rejuvenating her in ways she couldn’t imagine.
She groaned. Or maybe he did. She wasn’t sure. All she could focus on was the way he cupped her face in both hands. The way he tipped his head and kissed her deeper. The way his lush, tantalizing tongue tasted like sin and salvation against her own.