She wraps her legs around mine, her hands finding my shoulders, kneading the knots of tension with surprising finesse. “Relax,” she urges, her voice soft yet commanding, “you’re all tensed up.”
Leaning back into her, I have to admit, this isn’t half bad. The water’s heat seeps deep, loosening muscles I didn’t realize were tight. I put my hands around her ankles and let out a low, appreciative groan.
“What’s with the pan pipes?” I ask, the airy tunes floating around, a stark contrast to my typical music.
“It’s supposed to be calming. Spa vibes. Too much for you?”
I chuckle. “Not my usual taste.”
I relax into her body, head lolling back onto her shoulder as she works skilled fingers over my temples, neck, and head.
I push away the niggling anxieties I had last night. There’s a high likelihood that this is all going to blow up in my face, what with the line betweencasualandfeelingsthinning by the minute, but damn, I can’t remember the last time I let myself just . . . relax.
“Let me take care of you a little while,” she says softly, breath tickling my ear.
“Keep this up and I might have to keep you here.”
Her hands work magic on my skull, the kind of deep, skull-cracking massage that shoots sparks down my back. A deep, involuntary groan breaks from me when she nails that perfect spot, like she’s got some kind of power surge straight into my spine.
“Damn, that’s it. Keep it right there,” I manage.
“Good,” she replies, a smirk in her voice, clearly smug in her skill to unravel me.
Time loses meaning under her touch; minutes, hours—it’s all the same when every muscle in my body is singing her praises. My eyes shutter closed, surrendering to the rhythm of her hands.
Eventually her sweet voice cuts through, yanking me from blissful oblivion. “How’s that head now?”
“Like it’s been touched by an angel,” I grunt out, only half joking.
Being under her care is not something I’d admit to needing, but damn does it feel right.
She laughs lightly. “That was almost romantic.”
My eyes snap open, met with the damning scene—a bubble bath, surrounded by what can only be described as mood-setting candles, her body intertwined with mine as pan flutes echo romantically off the tiles.
Fuck. It couldn’t get any more intimate if I brought in a string quartet to serenade us mid-soak.
As relaxing as this is, it’s probably a bad idea.
Her foot presses against my half-hard cock.
My hands tighten on her ankles possessively. “Get on top of me.”
“What?” she giggles. “In the tub?”
“Come on, you can’t get me all worked up with your hands then leave me hanging.”
I lean forward, giving her room to get out from behind me.
She swings a leg over me, splashing water everywhere as she settles into my lap. Her wild hair is drenched and tangled, but fuck if she isn’t the sexiest thing I have ever laid eyes on.
“Sit on my fucking cock,” I demand, unable to hold back any longer.
Her eyes widen. “But we’re in the bathtub.”
“No shit, angel.”
“Smartass.” She grinds against my hard-on teasingly. “You really want to have sex in the bath?”
