45. Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Five
T hrax
The sliver of light peeking through the gap in the drapes is pink. Although I haven’t been a gladiator for two thousand years, I still wake at sunrise.
After lying here for long minutes, memorizing every inch of Skye’s pretty face, and playing with one of her springy curls, my lover is still asleep. I’m restless, worried about visiting the Colosseum today.
I’ve looked at pictures of it, and although we decided not to go to any ruins yesterday, it was impossible not to notice the arena watching over the city, despite having crumbled over the millennia.
I ease out of bed, needing something to keep me busy. After my shower, I peek out at Skye, but she’s still asleep. I smirk, knowing that it was I who tired her out last night, giving her more pleasure than her perfect body could take.
With a smug expression on my face, I turn back to the bathroom and Skye’s hair product catches my eye. Is that what makes her curls spring to life? My hair isn’t as long as hers, but I wonder what I would look like with curly hair .
I grab the can of cream Varro gave me to use with the novacila … razor, shake it as he instructed, and apply it to my hair as I’ve seen Skye do with her product. When my hair doesn’t curl, I apply more foam, but all that does is make thick, white peaks in my hair.
“Watcha doin’?” Skye’s voice is playful. She’s in a good mood. Why wouldn’t she be after the pleasure we shared in bed last night?
I turn to see her standing naked, one shoulder on the doorjamb, her ankles crossed. My cock twitches beneath the towel slung around my hips. Instead of saying what floats through my mind, which is that she should hop back into bed so I can make her scream my name, I answer her question. “I wanted to make my hair curly.”
Skye’s laughter fills the bathroom, echoing off the tiled walls. “Oh, Thrax,” she manages between giggles, “that’s not how it works!”
Confusion furrows my brow as I stare at my reflection; white peaks of foam stand tall on my head. “But I’ve seen you put white foam in your hair to make it curly.”
She shakes her head, still chuckling. “I use hair mousse, not shaving cream. And even if you’d used the mousse, it wouldn’t make your hair curly if it’s naturally straight.”
Heat creeps up my neck, embarrassment mixing with the lingering warmth from last night’s activities. “Oh.”
Skye’s gaze softens as she steps closer, her fingers reaching to touch the foam-covered strands. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. But now I’m curious—why did you want curly hair?”
The truth tumbles out before there’s time to stop it. “Your curls are beautiful. I thought… maybe you’d like me better with hair like yours.”
Her expression shifts, a mix of surprise and something deeper, more tender. “Are you crazy?” Her eyebrows rise higher as she asks. “First of all, I’m not sure I could like you better. And second, if you were any handsomer, I would fall off curbs because I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off of you.”
She shakes her head, confused. “Yesterday, didn’t you notice perfect strangers giving you the eye? Wide shoulders, slim hips, a strong face that tells anyone who’s looking that you have a herd of serious thoughts rolling around in your mind.”
This hits me with the strength of a war hammer to the chest. Really? Is that the way this beautiful woman sees me? Handsome despite my scars? Bright although I can’t read or write?
Warmth blooms in my chest at her words. Before I can fully process what she said, a mischievous glint appears in her eye. “But you know, if you really want to try something new…”
Before there’s time to react, she grabs her can of hair mousse and sprays a mound right on my nose. The cold foam makes me yelp in surprise.
“Hey!” Instinct takes over, and suddenly the shaving cream canister is in my hand, aimed squarely at her. “Prepare to face your reckoning!”
Skye shrieks with laughter as a stream of white foam hits her shoulder. “Oh, it’s on now!”
What follows is chaos—beautiful, joyful chaos. We chase each other around the small bathroom, spraying foam and mousse, slipping on the tiled floor. Laughter bounces off the walls, punctuated by playful threats and squeals of delight.
“Surrender!” Skye demands, brandishing her can of mousse like a weapon. Really? I outweigh her by twice, and I spent eight hours a day for decades honing my skills. Then I look at her, so adorable, covered in streaks of white foam, and actually consider surrendering to her, just to have her in my arms so I can coax kisses from her.
“Never!” My response comes out between gasps of laughter. “A gladiator never surrenders! ”
She lunges forward, trying to spray more mousse, but her foot slips on a patch of foam. Time slows as she falls, arms circling. Without thinking, I drop the can and my arms shoot out to catch her, pulling her close to keep her from hitting the hard floor.
We freeze, pressed together, covered in a mess of shaving cream and hair mousse. Skye’s eyes are wide, her breath coming in short pants that match the rapid beating of my heart. The mood shifts, playfulness giving way to something more intense.
“My hero,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping to my lips.
There’s no resisting the pull between us. Mouths crash together in a kiss that tastes so awful I almost consider pulling away. It should be ridiculous, but somehow it’s perfect.
Hands roam, slipping on foam-slick skin. The kiss deepens, and suddenly the mess doesn’t matter. The taste doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the feel of Skye’s body against mine, and the soft sounds she makes as my fingers trail down her spine.
“Shower,” she gasps between kisses. “We should… clean up.”
A nod of agreement, then we’re stumbling toward the shower stall, leaving a trail of foamy footprints in our wake. I turn the water on, steam filling the air as we step under the spray.
Warm water washes away the evidence of our playful fight, but it does nothing to cool the heat between us. If anything, the sight of water coursing down Skye’s curves only stokes the flames higher.
Kisses turn hungry, hands explore with renewed urgency. It’s still a marvel, being allowed to touch her like this. To worship every inch of her soft skin, to draw out those little gasps and moans that drive all thoughts save one from my mind.
“Thrax,” she breathes, her voice heavy with want. “Please.”
That single word undoes me. All the tenderness from last night gives way to raw need. I press Skye’s back against the shower wall as my hands grip her thighs, lifting her. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. Her breasts, slick with water and the remnants of soapy foam, slide against my chest. Hard nipples leave trails of sparks as she wraps her arms around me, tugging me even closer.
We come together in a frenzy of passion, the steam and the pounding water creating a world where nothing exists but us. Every thrust, every moan, every shared breath brings us closer to the edge.
Skye cries out first, her body tensing as pleasure overtakes her. The sight of her coming undone is enough to send me over, following her into blissful oblivion.
For long moments, we stay like that, panting, pressed together under the spray. Eventually, Skye’s feet touch the ground again, but we don’t let go. Instead, we hold each other close, trading soft kisses as the water washes away the last traces of our spontaneous foam fight.
As we finally step out of the shower, wrapping ourselves in fluffy towels, Skye’s eyes meet mine. There’s a softness there, a warmth that makes my chest tighten with emotions I’m still learning to name.
“You know,” she says with a grin, “I think I like your hair just fine the way it is. But maybe we should keep some shaving cream handy, just in case.”
Laughter bubbles up, free and easy. “As you wish,” comes my reply, pulling her close for one more kiss. “Though next time, maybe we skip the foam and go straight to the shower?”
Her answering laugh is all the reply needed. We use our wet towels to clean up the foamy, slippery mess. As we finish preparing for the day, stealing glances and trading playful touches, one thing becomes clear. Whatever challenges lie ahead—ancient ruins or modern technology—facing them together makes everything a little brighter.