Presenting me with the perfect opportunity to finally consummate our marriage.
Chapter Thirty-Two
My heart pounded frantically in my chest as I waited. One minute, two. Enough time for him to disrobe and climb into the pool. With my decision made, I wasn’t scared or nervous.
Just excited.
I opened the washroom door as quietly as I could. His back was to me and I saw his shoulders tighten.
He knew I was there.
My breathing quickened as I walked over to him and picked up a sponge. It was already damp, so I rubbed some soap onto it. When I made contact with his back, his hand went around my wrist. His touch burned, as if he’d set fire to me.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Scrubbing your back. Isn’t that what maidens in Ilion are supposed to do?”
“Wife ...” He sounded weary. But he released my arm and leaned forward slightly. Permitting me to touch him.
I admired his strong back for a moment too long before I began to rub the sponge in slow, rhythmic circles. I saw the tension go out of him, the way he relaxed under my ministrations. But my desire intensified with each pass, and whatever tension he had rid himself of seemed to find its way to me.
I hated the sponge that kept me from touching him with my fingers. I did an overly thorough job until too much time had passed. I was going to rub his skin raw if I kept going. If I wanted things to move forward, I’d have to do something else. I put the sponge into the water and used it to rinse him.
When I’d finished and put the sponge down, he said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I quickly took off my tunic and then unwrapped my undergarments. He didn’t move. If he was aware of what I was doing, he didn’t indicate it.
Quynh had once worried about what I’d do around naked Ilionians. I was sure that neither one of us could have ever predicted I’d do this.
I stepped into the pool. His eyes had been closed, but as soon as I was up to my neck in the water, they flew open.
“Why are you naked?” he demanded.
“Because I don’t bathe with my clothes on,” I said, echoing the words he had said to me the night he’d invited me into his bath. I should have done it then. “You told me once that if I joined you in the pool, you would satisfy my curiosity. That I could look at you as much as I wanted, touch you, so long as I afforded you the same privilege.”
His face was unreadable.
“Privilege granted,” I told him in a voice that sounded too breathy and desperate to my own ears.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” he said.
That made me smile. “I’m not being subtle.”
When he didn’t react, didn’t pull me into his arms, I started to doubt myself. After what we had shared last night, it hadn’t occurred to me that he might not want this. I reached my hand out toward him and he moved clear of me, causing water to splash out of the pool.
“I thought you couldn’t resist me when I’m naked. But you are,” I said.
“Barely,” he said through clenched teeth. “It’s why I lock that door.”
Another thrill ran through me. “But you didn’t lock it tonight.”
“That wasn’t an invitation.”
“It feels like one,” I said.
He closed his eyes briefly. “Goddess give me strength.”
