Page 34 of The Tribune Temptation (Roman Heirs #1)

C rispina followed Aelius into their bedroom. It hadn’t changed, and memories surfaced of all of the nights they had spent within these four cozy walls. Desire bloomed within her, rendering her dry-mouthed and sending a shiver down her spine.

Aelius shut the door, then stepped close to her, filling her vision with the breadth of his chest and the lustful promise in his gaze. “I’m afraid I don’t have much conversation left.” His voice was the low, husky rumble she remembered.

“Nor do I,” she breathed, then tilted her face up to kiss him. She did have more things to say to him; she needed to broach the topic of continuing her lessons on the Aventine, but that could come later. No more words, for now. All she cared about was the way his hands grasped her body, the press of his mouth against hers.

Aelius seemed to be of a similar mind. His lips skimmed her neck, and she gasped at the feel of stubble against her throat. She angled her hips against his, and found him hard and ready. He let out an appreciative growl. He untied the sash beneath her breasts, then unclasped the brooches securing the shoulders of her stola. The fabric fell to the floor, and she pulled off her undertunic.

Cool air whispered over her skin, but the heat of Aelius’s gaze warmed her straight through. The tips of his fingers caressed her collarbone, traveling lower. She arched toward him as his fingers trailed over her breasts, longing for a firmer touch, but he didn’t give it to her.

In retaliation, she reached under his tunic and gave him a single slow, light stroke. He throbbed in her hand, growing impossibly harder. His mouth fell open as desire rippled over his face.

“Bed,” he grunted. “Now.”

She grinned smugly and ambled over to the bed, casting a glance back at him. He yanked his tunic over his head and tossed it to the ground. She drew in a sharp breath, catching her lip between her teeth at the sight of his lean, golden-skinned body. She had come so close to losing all of this—losing him.

She perched on the edge of the bed. He walked over to her, then bent down, slid his hands beneath her bottom, and tossed her lightly into the middle of the bed.

“My hair,” she whispered as her head rested on the bedcovers. “It will be ruined for dinner.” She had chosen a more elaborate style than usual for the occasion, and it had taken nearly two hours to curl, braid, and pin her hair.

His body covered hers. “How I want to ruin it,” he murmured against her neck.

A thrill shot through her, but she tried to keep her head. “There will be time for that after dinner,” she promised. “Until then…” She rolled onto her stomach.

“Mm.” He traced a finger down her spine, making her shudder. “I think this will do.” He gave her bottom a firm squeeze, then grabbed her hips and pulled her to him.

She arched her back, seeking the hardness that thumped against her, but still he made her wait. His fingers delved between her legs, dipping into the wetness that had already gathered. He remembered exactly how she liked to be touched, how to make her writhe and gasp.

She closed her eyes, basking in the pleasure that arose with each stroke—only for him to pull his hand away much too soon. She let out a frustrated growl, but eagerness took over once more as she felt him shifting behind her, adjusting the positioning of her hips. The blunt, warm head of his arousal pressed against her. Her body welcomed him, and he let out a rough sigh as he sank all the way in.

Crispina lowered her forehead to the mattress, arching her back to take him even deeper. She loved the way he filled her like this, primal and possessive. He bent to drop a kiss between her shoulder blades, then his fingers closed around her hips, holding her steady as he thrust. He set a hard, fast pace, rougher than usual, but her body thrilled at every movement. She dug her fingers into the mattress as each thrust jolted her body.

“Harder,” she gasped. She needed to feel him in every inch of her body, needed him to make her entirely his once more.

“Are you sure?” His voice was breathless and unsteady.

“Oh, yes.” She wanted everything he could give her, wanted to take every bit of the anger and pain he must have felt over the past few weeks. This coupling would cleanse her, absolve her. It would serve as the final proof of his forgiveness that she desperately needed.

“Give me your hands.”

At the raspy command, she laid her cheek on the mattress and stretched her arms back toward him. He clasped her wrists in one hand, gripping tightly where they rested on her back. With his other hand, he reached around her hip to rub between her legs, somehow keeping pace as he continued to ram into her.

Crispina squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed with sensation. The pleasure drew tight, almost painful in its intensity. “Aelius!” she gasped.

“Too much?”

“Don’t stop,” she begged. The knot of pleasure exploded, and she lost herself to a wave of blissful shudders. Moans burst from her mouth, gasping and keening as the climax ripped through her.

Aelius released her arms to take firm hold of her hips, holding her in place as her body convulsed against him. His fingers dug into her flesh, and his breathing grew ragged. He groaned her name amid a few final hard thrusts, then withdrew, panting, and collapsed on the bed next to her.

Crispina rolled onto her side and nuzzled his chest, her mind still foggy with pleasure, her body aching but satisfied. Aelius pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms. Their lips met in a long, slow kiss.

“Do you think it’s mandatory for a victorious candidate to attend his own banquet?” Aelius asked in a drowsy murmur.

Crispina chuckled. “I fear it is.” She wanted nothing more than to bask in his warmth for a few more delicious moments, but unfortunately, they had obligations. She poked his shoulder. “We should make sure everything is in order out there.”

He groaned, but hauled himself into a sitting position. Crispina slid out of bed and went to retrieve her clothes. Other thoughts intruded as the bliss of their coupling receded. She remembered what she still needed to broach with him: her lessons.

She bent to pick up her discarded clothing. “There is one other thing I wanted to discuss. I became rather distracted earlier.”

Aelius eyed her as she shook out her undertunic. “You’re going to need to put something on if you don’t want me to get distracted once more.”

“I will be extremely impressed if you can manage any distraction after what we just did,” she joked, but she pulled her undertunic over her head anyway, covering herself from neck to ankle. “It’s about the lessons I was giving to the children over on the Aventine. I’m sorry I kept that secret from you, but I’d like to continue them. The children deserve that.” She hated that she’d abandoned them again, even though she had no choice.

Aelius rose from the bed and donned his tunic. When he didn’t answer right away, anxiety flared, twisting in her stomach. What if, after all they’d been through, he denied her something that meant so much to her?

He cinched a belt around his waist. “You must understand that it’s highly inappropriate, not to mention dangerous, for a tribune’s wife to visit such impoverished areas.”

Her stomach plummeted. “They are the people you were elected to represent.” She would not let this go. She had only married him in the first place to gain the freedom to pursue her lessons. If he tried to prevent her…

“You misunderstand me.” He met her gaze, a small smile playing around his lips. “I think it would be better if you invited your pupils here, to take lessons in our home.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“But only temporarily,” he continued. “As soon as it’s feasible, I’d like to introduce a bill to dedicate some funds to the creation of a school, where parents of any status who can’t afford tuition may send their children. It may be difficult to convince the Assembly to spend money on educating the children of the poor, especially the girls, but I trust you can help me build a compelling case as to why increased education will benefit the entire Republic.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, Aelius. Thank you.” Joy surged within her. He not only understood her mission, but he was prepared to use his newfound power to extend it in ways she could only have dreamed of. She launched herself at him and threw her arms around him. This meant everything to her.

He gave her a deep kiss which made her want to drag him back to bed. “I love you, Crispina,” he murmured, leaning his head against hers. “And I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side.”

Aelius lingered with Crispina in the atrium after bidding the last guest goodbye. The dinner party had been a success, but the congratulations heaped on him by his guests paled in comparison to the joy he felt whenever he glanced at Crispina sitting beside him. His face hurt from smiling.

Now, the guests were gone. His mother had just bid them goodnight, and Max had been put to bed hours earlier, which left Aelius alone in the atrium with his wife. He plucked a rose from a garland and tucked the crimson bloom behind Crispina’s ear. Next to her fair skin, it looked like a flower that would decorate a goddess’s statue during a festival. “Do you remember the first night we met?” There had been a dinner party then too, and a quiet, empty atrium.

“I splashed you.” She smiled. Once, he hadn’t even known if she was capable of smiling. Now, though it was still a relatively rare occurrence, each one felt like a blessing.

“Catullus warned me away from you that night, you know,” he said.

Her eyebrows lifted. “The nerve. On what grounds?”

“Your intelligence. Apparently he was bitter that you had pointed out an error he made once. He thought our courtship would end in disaster.”

She chuckled, and the sound warmed him like a flame. “It very nearly did.”

“For once, I’m glad I didn’t listen to him.” He pulled her close and lowered his head to kiss her forehead. She rested her cheek against his chest, her body warm and solid. Contentment washed over him as his arms encircled her.

Nothing would ever be better than this moment, not even if he won the consulship ten years from now. None of that mattered without her by his side.

A memory came back to him, from the night a year ago when he’d lost the election. Sitting in his bedroom with his mother, devastation heavy in his chest. His mother’s gentle hand on his shoulder, the concern in her eyes. I question if this will make you happy , she’d said.

He hadn’t known the answer then. Now, though he would never stop striving toward his dream of a consulship, he knew he had found true happiness with Crispina.

Crispina let out a quiet yawn. “To bed, husband?”

He released her from his embrace and took her hand. “To bed, wife.”