Page 26 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)
I paid for our meal quickly, leaving too many coins on the table in my eagerness to be alone with her.
We left the tavern hand in hand, our pace quickening as we wound through the afternoon crowds.
The weight of her hand in mine felt both familiar and miraculous – this fierce, complicated woman who had saved me from the emptiness I'd inhabited for so long after losing everything.
We walked in charged silence, occasionally exchanging glances that sent heat coursing through my veins.
Each time our eyes met, her lips would curve into a small, private smile that made my heart stutter.
"Almost there," I murmured as we turned onto the narrow street where I'd been living these past months. The air was sweet with the scent of fresh bread from below, and the cobblestones were worn smooth from centuries of feet.
The rooms I shared with Antonius were humble – nothing like the grand chambers she now occupied at the Academy.
A single window let in shafts of late afternoon sunlight, illuminating the narrow bed with its simple linen coverings, the small table with its two mismatched chairs, the wooden chest containing my few possessions.
A copper basin sat on the washstand, and herbs hung from the rafters, a habit I'd picked up from my mother long ago.
I closed the door behind us, conscious that Antonius might return at any time, and not wanting to be interrupted, but then she was in my arms and any other thought flew out of my head.
Suddenly I was kissing her with all the hunger that had been building since the moment I'd seen her emerge from her chambers in that blue dress.
Her lips parted beneath mine, eager and welcoming, her body pressing against me as if she could erase the weeks we'd been apart through sheer force of will.
I tangled my fingers in her braid, gently working it loose until her dark hair spilled over my hands like water. She made a small sound of pleasure against my mouth, her own hands busy with the fastenings of my tunic.
"I've missed you," I breathed against her skin as my lips traced the delicate line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. "Every day."
"Show me how much," she challenged, her voice a husky command that sent a jolt of desire straight through me.
I guided her toward the bed, our clothing falling away piece by piece as we moved.
When I untied the simple belt at her waist and slipped the blue dress from her shoulders, I had to pause, just to look at her.
The late afternoon sunbathed her skin in golden light, highlighting the lean muscles of her arms, the gentle curves of her breasts, the scars that mapped her journey from village girl to warrior.
"You're so beautiful," I said, the words inadequate for what I felt.
She smiled, a hint of shyness in her expression that was at odds with her usual confidence. "Even with all my scars?"
"Especially with your scars." I traced the longest one, a pale line that ran from her collarbone to just below her right breast – a memento from her first real fight in the arena. "They tell your story. Your courage."
Her hands found my chest, fingers splaying across the muscles there, tracing my own collection of battle marks. "Then we match," she said simply.
I lowered her onto the bed, following her down until we were lying face to face, our bodies pressed together from chest to thigh.
For a moment, we just looked at each other, reconnecting after too many weeks apart.
I studied the gold flecks in her dark eyes, the small freckle at the corner of her mouth, the way her hair spilled across my pillow.
"What are you thinking?" she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on my shoulder.
So many things. About how she'd just told me she was involved with not only a nobleman at the Academy but also with Tarshi.
About how instead of feeling jealous or betrayed, I felt strangely relieved that she had others to care for her when I couldn't be there.
About how terrified I was for her, infiltrating the Academy, planning to assassinate the Emperor himself.
"I'm thinking about how much I love you," I said instead, because it was the simplest truth, the one that contained all the others.
Her eyes softened. "Marcus..."
I silenced her with a kiss, not wanting words between us right now. Words were complicated, filled with plans and fears and impossibilities. This – her skin against mine, her heartbeat quickening under my palm – this was simple. This was real.
I took my time, relearning her body with hands and lips and tongue. The sensitive spot just below her ear that made her gasp when I kissed it. The arch of her spine when my fingers trailed down it. The way her breath hitched when I cupped her breast, my thumb circling the hardened peak.
"Please," she murmured, her hips rising to meet mine, seeking more contact.
I obliged, shifting to settle between her thighs, but not entering her yet. Instead, I continued my slow exploration, trailing kisses down the valley between her breasts, across the taut plane of her stomach, lower still until I reached the heart of her.
The first touch of my mouth against her core made her cry out, her hands flying to my hair.
I smiled against her skin, remembering how responsive she'd always been to this particular attention.
I worked her slowly, deliberately, my tongue circling and stroking until her thighs trembled on either side of my head.
"Marcus," she gasped, her voice breaking on my name. "I need—I need—"
I knew what she needed. I quickened my pace, adding my fingers to the rhythm my tongue had established.
Her back arched off the bed, her body going taut as a bowstring as her release crashed over her.
I gentled my touch but didn't stop, drawing out her pleasure until she collapsed back onto the mattress, gasping and shaking.
I moved up her body slowly, kissing the path I had taken, until my mouth found hers again.
She tasted of salt and honey and her own release, and I drank her in, my own need a sharp, aching pang in my groin.
Her eyes, dazed with pleasure, fluttered open to meet mine.
A new fire was already kindling in their depths.
“My turn,” she whispered, her voice a low thrum against my lips.
She slid her hands behind the back of my neck, and I groaned as she wrapped her legs around me.
I reached down to guide myself inside her, but she pushed me to the side, rolling until she sat astride me.
I gazed up at her, loving the way the afternoon sunlight played over her breasts and highlighted her dark hair.
She smiled down at me as she shifted down my body, mimicking my movements as her tongue flicked over my nipple and then further down.
I slide my hands into her hair and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of her lips against my skin as her mouth drifted lower.
Her mouth moved down the hard line of my stomach, a trail of wet heat that made the muscles clench.
I watched her, my breath catching in my throat as she settled between my legs, her dark hair falling forward like a curtain, shielding her face.
The sight of her, so fierce and proud, kneeling to give me pleasure was an intimacy so profound it nearly broke me.
A guttural groan escaped me as she reached the base of my cock, her tongue tracing a wet, teasing line up the length of me.
My hips bucked involuntarily, my fingers tightening in the thick strands of her hair.
She glanced up at me for a half-second through her lashes, a challenge in her dark eyes, before taking me fully into the heat of her mouth.
The world dissolved. There was only the slick heat of her, the skilled rhythm of her tongue and lips that drove me to the brink of madness. I was lost, undone by the woman I loved, by the sheer, unapologetic force of her desire for me.
She was not gentle; she was skilled, her tongue and lips working with the same focused intensity she brought to a fight.
It was a claiming, a devouring, and I was utterly undone by it.
My hands fisted in the rough linen sheets, my hips bucking against my will, chasing the exquisite friction.
The world dissolved into the slick heat of her mouth, the rhythmic pull, the raw pleasure that was fast becoming an agony.
"Livia," I gasped, the name a prayer and a plea. I was close, too close to the edge. I reached for her, my hands tangling in her hair, and gently pulled her up. Her eyes, dark with shared hunger, met mine.
My control, already frayed, snapped completely.
“Livia,” I choked out, my voice ragged. “Come here. Now.”
I pulled her up my body, her skin sliding against mine, until she was straddling my hips once more.
Her eyes were dark pools of passion, her lips swollen and damp from me.
Without breaking our gaze, I lifted my hips, pressing against her entrance.
She gasped, a low, guttural sound, and arched her back, taking me inside her inch by slow, torturous inch.
Her heat enveloped me, tight and welcoming, and I clenched my jaw, fighting for a control I no longer possessed.
For a moment, I didn't move, just savouring the feeling of being inside her again after so long. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Then she shifted beneath me, her hips rising in silent encouragement, and I began to move.
I set a steady pace, deep and thorough, watching her face for the subtle signs that told me what she needed.
Her hands ran over my shoulders, down my chest, nails digging in slightly when I hit a particularly sensitive spot.
She was so beautiful like this – open, honest, completely present in the moment with me.
"I've thought about this so many times," I admitted, my voice rough with exertion and emotion. "Lying alone at night, remembering how you feel."