Chapter Six
Mara
Waking with the sun, I stare at the beautiful man beside me.
Rome slept in my bed. He took care of me after my magic took all my energy, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
I should reflect on the spells I cast to help kill Jerry, and my loss of control.
Dealing with my emotions would be the mature, responsible thing to do, but all I can think about is Rome.
His touch makes me feel for the first time since Mom was alive.
I’ve been floating, barely surviving through life.
My only concern has been Lace and keeping her safe.
I’ve never considered it something I had to do, even though it was.
It wasn’t a chore. I love her. Any kind of pleasure hasn’t been a priority.
Rome has an aura about him. He’s calm and confident.
I’ve seen his humor as he speaks to Archer and his aunt.
He’s sexy, and I want to press against him and smell his spicy scent.
His magic is almost visible to me, always there, hovering, ready to be used at will.
I wonder how old he is? He must be older than I am.
It’s difficult to tell with those who have magic, since our bodies don’t age.
The covers lie at his waist, and his shirt is pulled tight against his chest. I can see his tattoos on his neck and the top of his chest. I have the urge to slide my hand under the fabric there and feel the silkiness of his skin.
I don’t have the guts to do it, though. Not that I don’t believe he would welcome it, but I’m not skilled enough with men to know what he would like.
My body is pushing me to be closer, give in, and feel for the first time in years.
My heart is damaged enough to override the thought.
Trust is something I don’t do. I know he wouldn’t hurt me physically. He could break my heart.
His arm is bent under his head, and his other is next to me, his hand resting on his chest. I love the rings he wears.
They are all silver and on every finger.
I wonder about them, and the story he must have about them.
It fits the image he portrays. Hearing about his family was beautiful, and instead of feeling jealous of his luck, I was glad.
I would hate it if he felt the pain of loss.
I already care about his feelings and the burdens he carries.
My magic has a new depth since he walked into my life.
His power enhances mine, building it to a level I never thought possible.
Witches believe in energy, good and bad.
My energy has been murky and slow since the Games.
My guilt has colored how I see myself, so I have used as little magic as possible.
I know I need to come to terms with the role I played in keeping the shifters in cages.
There were spells I should have tried, and magic I could have pushed to get out of the cage.
I’ve thought about all the ways I should have acted differently, but my power was stifled by fear.
Lace was the only person I had left in the world; she didn’t deserve to pay for my mistakes.
Telling Rome about my past will be uncomfortable. I am scared he will judge me for my actions, but I want him.
“Did I snore too loud?” Rome rumbles, and I see his eyes open.
“Huh?”
“Is that why you are awake so early?” he asks, tilting his head.
“No.” I smile. “I always wake up early. I would love to sleep in.” When I was younger, I could sleep until noon. Being held in a cage surrounded by cries, fury, and pain makes a girl sleep lightly.
“Mornings are supposed to be slept through,” he drawls, his lips tipping.
“I wish,” I whisper, staring into his beautiful green eyes. “It’s the first time I’ve woken up with a man beside me.” Honesty, it seems, comes easily for me with him.
“Really?” He lifts an eyebrow and rolls to face me.
“Yes.” I lick my lips.
“I like that,” he murmurs, his gaze moving over my face. “But I’m selfish and I don’t like imagining you with anyone else.”
“It kills the mood when I have to wear gloves in bed,” I say dryly.
“I think I would like leather against my skin.”
I snort. “Too bad. I don’t need to wear them with you.” His eyes crinkle. “It’s odd. I don’t remember where I left them.”
“We left them by the bookshelves.” He reaches out, rubbing the ends of my hair. “I’m thrilled you don’t need them with me.”
“So am I,” I whisper, shivering from his simple touch. “It will be a difficult habit to break. I have several pairs hidden around the store and the house.”
“I’ll help,” he says roughly.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask nervously. His presence is overwhelming.
“I did.” He watches me steadily.
“Good.” I bite my lip. Rome has scruff across his face, barely there, but enough that it would leave marks on my face.
I loved feeling it when he kissed me, and I want it again.
Being alone for so long has made me yearn for contact with another person.
I haven’t missed having sex. I have missed the gentle touch on my cheek, hand, and the safety of a hug.
“Mara,” he says softly, and I blink. I was staring at his mouth. “I’m trying to be a gentleman. Stop staring.”
“Do you have a lot of experience with being a gentleman?” I ask, lifting a brow.
“Only when the moment calls for it,” he replies, his eyes narrowing.
“Is this one of those moments?” I need him to make a move. He holds my gaze, gauging my reaction, and I lay all my emotions bare for him to see. He slides his hand under my jaw, over my ear, and into my hair.
“Your eyes are telling me to be anything but a gentleman,” he rasps, and yanks me close. “Am I reading them right?”
“Yes,” I whisper and slide even closer. He drops his gaze, looking down my body and then to my lips.
“My Mara,” he whispers, and my heart thuds. “My beautiful bond.” My lips part, and he kisses me.
His tongue demands entrance, and I open further.
This is different from the first, and it feels like weeks since.
He’s not as tentative. I don’t worry about my technique—I just follow his lead.
He pushes me to my back, rolling over me, and tucking me close.
His leg is between mine, and I wrap my foot around his ankle.
I feel like a teenager making out for the first time with the boy I’ve had a crush on for ages.
We are fully clothed, but it doesn’t matter.
It feels like we are fused together, naked.
He trails his hand from my hair down my body, his rings catching on the fabric.
He stops on my hip, his thumb grazing my skin where my shirt has risen, and sweeps back and forth.
I roll my hips reflexively, needing to be closer.
He props his other arm beside my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, and urges me to tip my head back further. I do, and he deepens the kiss.
It’s like a dance, and he leads. With every move, he shows me how to step.
His other fingers wrap around my side, pulling, urging me to push closer.
I groan as his cock rubs against me, the warmth that began when I woke by just looking at him, grows.
He rips his mouth away, dropping his forehead to mine.
“We have to stop,” he groans.
“Why?” My breath is heavy, and my body wants what he can give me.
“If we continue, I won’t want to stop until I have you.” He lifts his head and stares into my eyes. “Are you ready?”
“It’s been a long time,” I admit.
“I don’t want to rush you.” He cups my throat.
“I’ve never wanted anyone like I do you.
Having you underneath me is all I want, and I am not a gentleman.
I love it that you look to me to guide you.
It turns me on. I will position you where I want you, and demand you to stay there.
” He takes a deep breath. “I desperately want inside you. But you need more. More time, and to get to know me. To trust me.”
“You’re right,” I sigh.
“I don’t have much restraint,” he says, sliding his hand between my breasts. “What little I have can be used to give you relief.” I moan as he continues his dissent. “Do you want that, my Mara?” He glides his fingers between my jeans and stomach.
“Please,” I gasp.
“Fuck, I love that sound,” he hums and pops my button free. “Do it again.” He slides my zipper down, and I can’t help the noises that emerge. “Yes.” He cups me, and my eyes roll back. His touch is barely a caress over my panties, and I’m ready to come. “Asshole,” he growls, and I blink.
“What?” I ask, opening my eyes when he pulls away.
“Are you guys awake?” Archer asks.
“No,” I whisper. Rome fixes my jeans, scowling.
“She’s usually up,” Lace mutters. I love her, but I want to harm her.
“Mara, shit, I’m sorry.” Rome rolls off the bed. “Do not come in here,” he growls. He runs his hands through his hair, and I exhale harshly. The moment is ruined, but my body hasn’t gotten the message.
“I’ll make coffee,” Lace yells.
“Baby, you alright?” Rome asks, leaning over the bed.
“No,” I whisper. “Can we spell them? Maybe I can freeze them and you can get back on the bed.” He grins.
“I’m afraid not,” he says. “Fuck, I wish we could. You squirming underneath me will keep me hard all day. Especially if you don’t get out of bed.”
“Is it wrong that I love that?” I love that it affected him so much.
“No.” His lips twitch, and he backs away. I roll to my side and sit up.
“She’s lucky she makes good coffee,” I mumble, sweeping my hair back.
“I’m going to need a pot,” he says softly, staring at my hair.
“We need to leave the room.” I sweep my gaze down his body and stand. He nods and walks stiffly to the door. Waiting, with his hand on the doorknob, I move swiftly by him, resisting the urge to touch him.
As I move to the kitchen, I see Lace has already started the coffee and is bustling around setting out cups. Archer is lounging at the counter, his smirk directed at Rome behind me.
“Sleep well?” Archer asks.