Chapter 29 #3
My body clenched and milked him, dragging out his pleasure and making him groan like a man on the verge of destruction.
There was nothing left of me.
Just color and vibration, pleasure and ecstasy, a glorious, breathless abyss.
We floated there, weightless, lost in the wreckage of what we had just done.
Then, like feathers drifting back to earth, I came back into the room, back into my body, still trembling, feeling him everywhere.
Roman withdrew from me, his hands gentle now, his breath still ragged.
Without a word, he scooped me into his arms, carrying me to the bed.
He lay me down, then slid in beside me, wrapping himself around me, holding me close.
Our eyes met; no words were needed.
We had been shattered, remade, undone, and put back together.
We had been granted something sacred—passion and connection, raw and unfiltered, boundless and infinite.
Nothing was left to do but fall asleep in each other’s arms.
I drifted on stars and wild stallions, lost in dreams, only stirring when Roman rolled away from me.
I heard the soft rustle of fabric and blinked against the light poking through a slit in the heavy drapes.
“What time is it?” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.
Standing by the bed, Roman pulled his pants up over his gorgeous, muscular legs, fastening them with an easy grace.
Then, he leaned over and captured my mouth in a long, sensuous kiss.
Heat curled low in my belly, memories of last night playing through my mind.
When he pulled away, his lips hovered over mine, teasing. “It’s time to get up.”
I pouted. “Can’t we linger in bed a little longer?”
I stretched, arms extending over my head, my body deliciously sore. I was naked beneath the sheets, my nightgown nowhere to be seen.
Roman’s eyes darkened as they roamed over me, his jaw tightening. “I would like nothing more…”
For a moment, it felt like he might crawl back into bed, press me into the mattress, and start over again.
But then, he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “We have ground to cover. We must put as much distance as possible between Balthazar, Costa, and ourselves.”
I breathed and rolled from the mattress, reluctantly pulling on my clothes.
After a sparse breakfast and final preparations, we packed our belongings downstairs, ready to leave.
Roman’s eyes suddenly lit up.
“Ah!” he exclaimed. “I have something for you, Marcellious.”
Marcellious frowned. “For me?” His eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion. “Who is it from?”
“Moon Lee.” Roman’s voice carried a note of mystery. “He gave it to me when I was in the twenty-first century. He told me to make sure you got it.”
He crouched, rummaging through his knapsack, before standing and holding out a sealed envelope.
“For you.”
Marcellious’ wide-eyed expression flickered with something unreadable. Shock? Wariness?
Then, without a word, he tucked the envelope into his satchel.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Roman asked, intrigued.
Marcellious’ expression darkened slightly. “In my own time.”
I caught the tension in his posture, the subtle hesitation at whatever that letter contained.
It wasn’t something he wanted to share.
A knock sounded at the door.
Malik’s maid scurried toward the entrance, but he held up a hand, stopping her.
“I’ll see who it is,” he said, striding forward.
Count Montego stood, bags in hand, when he swung open the door.
His expression was smooth, unreadable.
“I’ve brought your goods, Roman, as promised.” He handed the bags to Malik before his gaze settled on me. “And where might you be headed?”
I hesitated. A man like Montego never asked a question without an agenda.
Still, I answered. “Great Britain. Wales. We’re on a quest to find a certain artifact.”
Montego’s face brightened with delight. “How fortunate! That’s where I’m heading, too! What do you say we combine forces and travel together? I have everything you need to transport safely.”
Something in his casual offer set my nerves on edge.
I glanced toward Malik, expecting him to shut the idea down.
Instead, he merely shrugged and stepped aside.
Damn it.
I forced a polite smile. “That’s a generous offer, but we can’t impose on you.”
Montego waved a hand dismissively as if I had said something absurd. “Nonsense.” Without waiting for permission, he stepped inside, eyes sweeping the room.
Then, his gaze landed on Emily.
He smiled—wide, charming, too interested.
“And who is this?”
Emily shifted uncomfortably, placing a protective hand over her belly.
“I’m Emily. Emily Demarrias,” she said, her voice tinged with quiet sadness. “I’m with child.”
Her complexion was pallid, the queasiness of the morning sickness written all over her face.
Montego tut-tutted in sympathy. “I’ll send for a nursemaid who will tend to her needs. We must ensure she is comfortable. It’s quite a journey, after all.”
He bent down and effortlessly picked up two of our bags, his casual assertion of control tightening my stomach.
I snapped a look at Roman, expecting a protest.
Instead, he shrugged silently in acquiescence, his expression unreadable.
We both knew it.
The decision had been made for us.
Montego turned to me, his voice a smooth command. “I insist you accompany me to my villa in Wales.” His lips curled slightly. “It will be no hindrance—a delight to have your company.”
Then, without another word, he stepped outside with our luggage, his final decree hanging in the air.
Leaving us no choice but to follow.