Page 21 of Thawed Gladiator: Victor

“You should sleep,Domina,” he murmurs without opening his eyes. “Tomorrow brings more training.”

“I can’t.” The confession slips out before I can stop it. “Too many thoughts.”

He turns his head to look at me, and the intensity in his eyes steals my breath. “What thoughts keep you from rest?”

The space between us feels charged with electricity. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he must hear it. “I think you know what thoughts.”

“Domina…” The title should remind me of all the reasons this is wrong, but instead, it fans the flames higher.

“Maya,” I correct softly, inching closer. “Just… Maya.”

His hand rises to create a distance between us, but settles on my cheek instead. His thumb traces my cheekbone with infinite gentleness. The simple touch sends fire racing through my veins.

“This is unwise,” he whispers, his gaze blazing into mine, but he doesn’t pull away, nor does his thumb slow its lazy pace.

Time seems suspended as we hover on the edge of something irrevocable. This tension has been building between us for weeks, impossible to deny any longer.

His gaze holds mine captive, reflecting my own inner turmoil—the struggle between what we should do and what we both desperately want. The heat of his palm against my cheek feels like a brand, searing away all the reasons we should hold back.

“I know it’s not wise.” The words escape my lips, heavy with the weight of our shared conflict. “But I can’t keep pretending I don’t…” I pause, my breath catching as I finally admit it. “Want you, Victor.”

It’s as though the world stops as we teeter on the precipice of something inevitable. He edges closer and my breath mingles with his, carrying the weight of every lie I’ve told, every truth I haven’t shared, and every wall I’m about to shatter. The heat radiating from his body envelops me, making the careful reasons for restraint feel as ephemeral as morning mist.

When I finally press my lips to his, it’s like stepping into sunlight after months of shadow. He remains perfectly still for one heartbeat, then his control breaks. His hand slides into my hair, cradling my head as he deepens the kiss with growing hunger. The taste of him—mint and masculinity—makes my head spin. It’s a dizzying, intoxicating sensation, and I’m lost in it.

When we finally part for breath, his forehead rests against mine, our ragged breathing mingling in the dim room. His eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.

“Damian,” he whispers, voice rough with emotion.

I blink, not understanding at first.

His thumb traces my lower lip as he explains, “My true name. Not Victor—that was a gladiator’s name forced on me by my Roman owners, meant to inspire fear.” His voice softens. “Damian is what my father named me. It means to tame, to subdue. He said it would remind me to master my own nature before attempting to master others. Can you call me this when we are alone?”

“Damian,” I repeat, the name feeling like a sacred gift on my tongue. “Why tell me now?”

His gaze holds mine, vulnerable yet certain. “Because with you, I find myself both mastering and surrendering at once. You make me question everything I once believed about control.”

The honesty in his words pulls me back to him like gravity. This time, when our lips meet, there’s no hesitation. My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens. His strength surrounds me, but it’s his tenderness that undoes me completely—the way he holds me as if I’m something precious rather than someone who’s been lying to him since the day we met.

He must know I haven’t been honest with him. He’s too intelligent and observant not to sense the deception, yet he hasn’t demanded answers. Is it his training as a slave to never question, or is he trusting me to tell him when I’m ready? I push back the guilt and focus on the gift he’s giving me.

I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, echoing my own frantic rhythm. His hand slides down my neck, tracing the line of my shoulder until it settles at my waist. He pulls me closer and I can feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against my hip. The sensation sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs.

I arch against him, a soft moan escaping me as his mouth leaves mine to explore the sensitive skin of my neck. His teeth graze my pulse point before his tongue soothes the sting, drawing another sound from deep in my throat. Every nerve ending in my body feels electrified by his touch.

His hand slips beneath my sleep shirt, his calloused palm skimming over my ribs, stopping just below my breast. I can feel his restraint in the tension of his muscles, in the careful way he holds himself back.

“Please,” I whisper against his lips, taking his hand and guiding it higher until his palm covers my breast. The sensation of his rough skin against my sensitive flesh draws a gasp from us both.

His thumb circles my nipple, the gentle friction making me arch into his touch. He shifts, rising above me, his eyes dark with desire as he pushes my shirt higher, exposing me to his hungry gaze.

His gaze roams over me, taking in every detail as if it were a precious gift. “Pulchriora quam somnis,” he murmurs, his voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it—more beautiful than my dreams.

When his mouth replaces his hand, the wet heat of his tongue circling my nipple before drawing it between his lips, I nearly come undone. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to me as pleasure spirals through my body. He lavishes the same attention on my other breast, his hands holding my hips as I writhe beneath him.

“Damian,” I gasp as his teeth gently graze the sensitive peak. “I need—”

“Shh,” he soothes, his mouth trailing hot kisses down my stomach. “Let me worship you properly, Maya.”

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