Fantasy Lover(70)

As he finally drifted to sleep, it wasn't the faces of the past that haunted his dreams, it was the vision of light gray eyes laughing with him, and of dark hair spilling over his chest as a warm, soft voice read words that were familiar and yet somehow foreign.



Grace stretched languidly as she came awake. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find her head lying on Julian's stomach. His right hand was buried in her hair and by the deep even breaths she knew he was still asleep.

She looked up at him. His face relaxed, he looked almost childlike.

And it was then she realized his nightmare hadn't come. He had slept through the night.

Smiling, she rose slowly, trying not to wake him.

It didn't work. The instant she withdrew, his eyes flew open, searing her with their heat.

"Grace," he breathed.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's all right."

Grace motioned to the stairs with her thumb. "I was going upstairs to shower. Should I lock the door?"

He raked a searing look over her. "No, I think I can behave."

She smiled. "It seems I've heard that one before."

He didn't respond.

Grace went above and took a quick shower.

When she finished, she went to her bedroom and found Julian lying on the bed, flipping through her copy of The Iliad.

He did a double-take as he looked up to see her wearing nothing but a towel. Those dimples flashed lecherously and sent heat dancing all over her body.

"I'll just get my clothes, and-"

"No," he said in a commanding tone.

"No?" she asked in disbelief.

His face softened. "I'd rather you dress in here."

"Julian-"

"Please."

Grace squirmed uneasily at his request. She'd never done anything like that in her life.

"Pretty please," he asked again with just a hint of a smile.

What woman could say no to that look?

She looked askance at him. "Don't you dare laugh," she said as she hesitantly opened the towel.

He dropped a hungry look to her breasts. "You can rest assured laughter is the farthest thing from my mind."

Then he left the bed. He moved like a graceful predator as he opened the drawer where she kept her underwear. A strange shiver went over her as she watched his hand moving through her panties until he found the black silk ones Selena had given her as a gag gift.

Pulling them out, he knelt on the floor before her to put them on her. Breathless and hot, she looked down at the top of his golden head. She lifted her foot and let him dress her.

As his hands slid the silk up her leg and his lips kissed a (rail behind them, she trembled. He splayed his hands against her flesh for maximum devastation to her senses. Worse, once he had them in place, he caressed her lightly between her legs before moving away.

Next, he pulled out the matching black bra.

Like a doll with no will of its own, she let him put it on her. His hands brushed her nipples as he closed the front catch, then he slid his hand between the satin and her skin and gave a hot caress that sent chills all over her.

Julian bent his head down to capture her lips with his. Even now he felt the fire coursing through him, demanding he take her. Demanding he ease the pain in his groin if only for an instant.

Grace moaned as he deepened his kiss. Her will gone, she felt him lift her to the bed where he set her before him. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and hissed at the feeling of those steely abs pressing against the center of her body.

Julian ran his hands over her back. The image of her wet, naked body was branded in his mind. He was almost to the point of no return when a bright light flashed through the room.

His eyes aching from it, Julian pulled away from her.

"Was that you?" she asked breathlessly, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

Amused, Julian shook his head. "I wish I could take credit for it, but I'm quite sure it had another source."

Looking around the room, his gaze fell to the bed. He blinked.

It couldn't be…

"What is that?" Grace asked, turning to look at the bed.

"It's my shield," he said, still unable to believe his eyes.

He hadn't seen his shield in centuries. Stunned, he stared at it where it rested in the center of the mattress, glinting dimly in the light.

He knew every dent and scratch on it, remembered the blows that had made each mark.

Afraid he was dreaming, he reached his hand out to the bronze relief of Athena and her owl.

"And your sword, too?"

He grabbed Grace's hand before she touched it. "That's the Sword of Cronus. Never touch it. If anyone handles it who doesn't have his blood in them, it burns their skin forever."

"Really?" she asked, sliding off the bed, away from it.

"Really."

She looked back at the bed with a stern frown. "Why are they here?"