With firm thighs, toned stomach, corded muscles, he reminded her of marble statues of the gods. “Do I have to choose?”
His laughter echoed around the room as he stepped into the tub, the water creating waves as he lowered himself and took her in his arms so the entire length of her was pressed up against him. “When we leave this tub, your hair is coming down.”
She barely had time to smile and nod before his mouth captured hers and disintegrated the last bit of grime that had been clinging to her. Nothing mattered except for him, except for them.
His hand traveled along the length of her back, over her bottom, along her thigh, hooked beneath her knee and draped it over his hip so he could settle more intimately against her. And she welcomed the feel of him. The water had begun to cool, but now it seemed so much hotter. She felt hotter, warmed to the core.
He dragged his mouth along her throat and the heat traveled all the way down to her toes. “Feeling cleaner?”
“Inside and out.”
Lifting his head, he captured and held her gaze. “Stay like that. Never let him inside you again.”
“I won’t. You make me feel invincible. You make me feel treasured.”
“Because you are. You have so much to give, so much to offer.”
“I want to give to you tonight.”
Groaning low, he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “With such ease, you bring me to my knees.”
“It’s because of your position in the tub.”
When he lifted his head, he was grinning and cradled her face with one large and very wet hand. “You’re nervous.”
“A little. You know the worst about me and yet still you’re here.”
“Because I also know the best about you, and it far outweighs the worst.” This time when he took her mouth, he took possession of her heart as well.
He accepted her as she was. Her past didn’t matter. With him she didn’t have to pretend or put on airs or strive to meet expectations. It was what she’d always wanted, an honesty with a gentleman. And here she had it.
As his hands skimmed over her, she thought,yours, yours, yours.
As she glided her hands over his broad chest and wide shoulders, she thought,mine, mine, mine.
Then she shivered because as warm as he was, the water had grown colder. Immediately he noticed and drew back. “Let’s get you out of here.”
He went first, not bothering to hide his perfection from her as he reached for a towel. As she shoved herself to her feet and the water sluiced over her, his eyes darkened, heated, and she felt like a nymph who’d captured the attentions of a god. As she stepped out of the tub, he draped the soft linen around her and began patting it gently over her, gathering up all the drops. Going down to one knee, he saw to her legs and feet and she combed her fingers through his hair, awed that he would humble himself so before her, would see to her needs before his own.
“You must be cold,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
When he was finished, he grabbed another towel and wrapped it around her, while he briskly rubbed the first over his skin, not bothering to take the same care with his body that he’d taken with hers. The entire time his gaze remained latched on to hers. His actions slowed, stopped, the towel clutched in one hand where ribs gave way to stomach, the linen trailing down covering his most vulnerable areas, providing him with a modicum of modesty.
“Fancy, my intention truly was to only bathe you, to show you that what makes you Fancy Trewlove hasn’t changed. I won’t fault you if you’d rather I dress myself and walk out of here now.”
With a smile she released her hold on her towel, acutely aware of its journey along the short length of her body until it pooled at her feet on the floor, noting how his hand fisted more tightly around his towel, his knuckles turning white. Reaching out, she threaded her fingers through his unoccupied hand and began leading him toward her bed.
Although he’d offered, with all good intentions, to walk out if she wished, he hadn’t been sure how he’d accomplish that action when his body was straining with the need to be with her, to bury itself in her, to hear her cries as passion rode her. As she pulled him from the bathing chamber, he released his death grip on the towel and padded after her.
Never in his life had it seemed so important that he get it right, that he make it perfect—for her.
As they neared the bed, she let go of his hand, reached up, and began plucking the pins from her hair. His gut tightened as the waves of black silk cascaded around her shoulders, along her back, halting just shy of the dimple in her backside. Plowing his hand through the satiny tresses, he stopped her from climbing onto the bed, turned her around, tilted back her head, and settled his mouth over hers as though it belonged there. And damned if it didn’t feel as though it did.
But then it had felt that way from the very first time they’d kissed. Everything with her always seemed right, seemed new and yet familiar.
Falling against him, she wound one arm around his neck, carried the other on a journey around his back as though she wanted him as close to her as he had an urge to be. She was warm softness from head to toe. While her skin didn’t squeak as he dragged his hands over it, she felt untouched, pure, pristine, a goddess bestowing her attentions on a mere mortal. He’d never felt more humbled, more undeserving of something so exquisite. But he wasn’t fool enough to give up and not work to be deserving. Especially when she was no shy miss but was taking her tongue on a journey that mapped out every nook and crevice of his mouth while still managing to occasionally return for a slow seductive waltz with his tongue.
