CHAPTER 33
Italy was nothing if not steeped in history, and the interior of the sixteenth century villa was no exception. The two-story building had been modernized with each century, the architectural details faithfully restored. A massive fresco of a pastoral scene dominated the wall of the main salon. The bathrooms were a combination of antiquity and convenience. Working fireplaces were in many of the rooms but were rarely used for more than ambiance. There was an extensive library, and the chapel—reached by a short walk—as the villa had originally been built for a disgraced Bishop from Florence who’d been too flagrant in his opinions. There might also have been the odd parishioner now and then who kept low a profile.
Lexi stood in the doorway of the library and watched as Christan scanned through images on his laptop. He’d been working since he got back from his meeting. She knew he was troubled, but he wouldn’t confide. She’d left him to his solitude, but now she could sense his withdrawal. She thought it was a place where he existed as an Enforcer with responsibilities to perform. His phone chimed and he lifted it to his ear, listening in silence. The he murmured something in response. A moment later he was gone, slipping through a side door and disappearing outside.
Lexi went looking for him an hour later. She was wearing a sundress the color of lemons, and her favorite silver sandals, the ones Christan had removed on the little balcony. She’d showered, and her hair was slightly damp. The afternoon was sweet and warm and the scent of flowers hung thick in the air. The taste of sweet oranges slid elusively against her tongue.
Christan was in Gemma’s garden, sprawled on a padded chaise beneath an ancient tree. She could see the muscled contours of his body. He was so unyielding, this immortal who believed in justice but denied redemption for himself. The edge of his mouth had relaxed in sleep and she wanted to touch him, tease him into smiling. Ease the worry from his mind.
Her breathing hitched.
Christan turned his head and her heart seized.
“Come here,” he said.
The hunger compelled her, but he was being an enforcer, now, and used to obedience. Lexi skimmed her fingers through the flowers that edged the path, taking enough time so he knew the choice was hers. When she reached the side of the chaise he touched her, trailing his fingers lightly against the sensitive skin behind her knee.
“I will always know you,” he said roughly. “No matter what life. No matter where on this earth, cara, I will always know you are the twin flame of my soul.”
Her voice shook as she whispered, “As I know you, Christan.”
His hand moved higher, one finger hooking around the edge of her panties. He gave a gentle tug.
“Take them off.”
Slowly, Lexi lifted one foot and slipped off a sandal, then removed the mate. Without taking her eyes from his face she slid her hands beneath the dress. A decadent moment later and the panties joined the sandals in the shade.
Christan made a taut sound deep in his throat. An answering heat moved up Lexi’s belly. The breeze lightly teased the strands of her hair, lifting them around her face. Warmth was what she felt. Heat. A carnal need for him in the open air as he’d once described to her, with the shade and the sun and the heady scent of flowers in the air.
The hunger grew as she slid over him, settling against the heavy ridge beneath his jeans. His erection throbbed. Her eyes grew languid. The yellow skirt of the dress lifted and fluttered out like butterfly wings.
The abrasion of rough denim became an intimate caress. He lifted his hips, pressing where she needed the pressure. When she arched back, his hands circled her waist, then slid over the soft material to her breasts. She was helpless, snared by the flex and power of his body as he pleasured her.
Sunlight danced through the shadows, animating the expression on Christan’s angled face. Lexi felt so connected to him her chest ached. Her hands traced up his arms, found his hands. His eyelids dropped with suspicion; her fingers laced with his, pushing his arms above his head. She leaned forward to hold them there, thrilling at the way he watched her, allowing the small dominance and remaining so still she wasn’t sure he even breathed.
“Don’t move,” she commanded, not releasing him until she saw that curious obedience in his eyes. She liked her new-found control. Her hands slid beneath her skirt, found the top button on his jeans. With deliberate slowness she released him, touched him. This Enforcer who made men tremble now drew in a ragged breath. Her fingers circled, her fist closed, and she used the exquisite pressure she’d learned from him. He was so thick, so hot as her hand moved up and down. The yellow skirt concealed her seduction until beads of moisture gathered at the broad head. She lifted her body and guided him inside.
Slowly, she sank down, taking him completely, her hands finding his again and holding him in place. He’d been so obedient, even when she saw him struggle. He filled her and her body stretched in response, the growing pressure an exquisite torture. His eyes were closed, a look of control on his face so intense she moved her hips to see how far she could go. His arms tightened, the muscles hard and the veins visible, but his body remained steady. He would not move until she gave him permission. Her dress swayed and continued to keep their secret.
Lexi leaned forward, her hair forming a veil around them. She knew he loved it. Her breath quickened on the soft, desperate sounds in her throat that she tried to hide. Inner muscles tightened. God, she needed that feeling, asked him for it. The answer came with powerful thrusts, again and again, big hands anchoring until her breathing nearly stopped and her eyes closed in utter concentration. She gripped his shoulders while her head dropped forward. Every flex, every penetration and retreat fueled the feverish need until nothing else existed but this movement, these sensations, the mutual reaching for release.
When the tiny, skittering sound carried from across the garden, Lexi didn’t realize what it was.
And then she did.
There was an awkward scrambling as William Strome tried to make himself invisible, nearly toppling over as he retreated down the path, his hands waving in the air as if chasing away bees. Lexi would have jumped away except Christan’s hands were at her waist, preventing her escape. Her face flamed a bright red and she tried to hide behind her hair.
“Oh my god.” She collapsed against Christan’s shirt while he laughed deep in his throat. “Just shoot me now, why don’t you?”
He was such the alpha male as his fingers tightened at her waist, sliding down to caress her hips. “Finish,” he ordered softly.
“I can’t,” she almost wailed.
“Finish,” Christan ordered again, his rough fingers slipping beneath her dress to where their bodies were still joined. She could feel him. He was even harder than before, and she caught her breath as he pinched her inner thigh and then stroked his thumb against her, reigniting the fierce heat between them.
“Finish, cara,” he murmured, gently teasing with those questing fingers until she began to move. Her lashes swept down over her eyes and her head tilted back. He held her effortlessly, drove deeper, all copper and gold and bronzed hard male in the bright hot sun. When he pushed them both over the edge, she was a mythical creature flying high through the sky with the predatory lion at her side.
Lexi collapsed across Christan’s chest. She was wrecked. He had destroyed her, completely and irrevocably. There would never be another male for her, only this male, and it frightened her, the intensity of her emotions.
She had fallen in love with him as Gaia, pure and innocent, and again when he told her the story of five-year-old Gemma, stomping through delphiniums in search of butterflies he alone could give. What she felt now—it was not soft. It wasn’t even close to gentle and innocent. It was fierce, overwhelming, and she would never be whole without this man at her side. She moved restlessly, but his fingers tangled deeper into her hair, holding her in place. She pushed with gentle hands; his grip tightened, and he murmured, “Gemma, don’t leave.”
Gemma. Lexi froze, then carefully untangled her hair and stood up on shaking legs. She reached for her panties and sandals, slipped them on. She was three steps away when he opened his eyes and pinned her.
She stopped breathing. Something aggressive moved across his face, mixed with concern as he took in her tense form. He didn’t move from his prone position, but she saw the readiness tighten throughout his body. He studied her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“You called me Gemma.”
He looked perplexed for a moment. “And that was wrong? You were her.”
“But I’m me now,” she said, lifting her shoulders as tears stung her eyes. So much she wanted to say to him and there were no words to explain.
He’d asked her to see him as he was, half human, half immortal. She needed him to see her as she was, not as one of the lovers she had been—she couldn’t be his second or third or sixth chance to get it right, an extension of a past that ended in failure. Such an end this time would break her beyond pain.
Lexi could sense him watching, trying to understand the thoughts flowing through her mind. She knew he could access them telepathically. He understood how invasive it would be and gave her privacy. It marked how far they’d come, perhaps. How far apart they still were.
“I’m not one of those G names in this lifetime,” she said with a voice that was too calm. “When you look at me, you see the part that was Gemma, or Gaia. I need you to see me, Christan. That I do this by choice and not because of an Agreement or some past issue that was never resolved. We start fresh, as we are now, or we don’t start at all.”
She was standing like a pagan huntress, proud and burning as sunlight caught in her hair. Comprehension dawned. He was off the chaise before she could flee, wrapping her in his arms as if he could never let her go.
“Sweet girl,” he whispered against her throat. “There is only you.”