“Perhaps,” she said, turning her head to meet his gaze.
He was struck by her artless beauty. Hers was a face with such expressive character, her every emotion flitting over her features and bringing her countenance to life. There was strength in her jaw, stubbornness in her chin, a delightful bit of rebellion in her pointed nose. Her eyes were glistening, the golden lights burning, her dark lashes long. The lips he had been longing to see wrapped around him were parted, the color of summer berries. And he had never wanted to kiss her more.
How had his former self failed to be entranced by Bess? He couldn’t fathom it now. This woman was perfect for him in every way. But then, perhaps it was a boon that he had failed to realize what a gem she was in the past, because the clod he’d once been certainly hadn’t deserved her.
Hell, he wasn’t sure that he deserved hernow.
But he was selfish enough to keep her forever. And damned glad she was his.
“What say you, love?” he asked, unable to resist following the determined line of her jaw with his free hand, leaving water droplets in his wake.
Curiosity flickered in her gaze. “How would I…”
He bit his lip to stave off a chuckle at her shyness. She was a delectable combination of prudishness and wanton. He adored both.
“How would you ride me?” he asked, taking pity on her and finishing the question on her behalf.
She nodded, then wrinkled her nose. “Do you suppose it would make a terrible mess? Perhaps we could ring for some towels afterward.”
She was still fretting over the servants.
“We can do whatever you wish, Bess,” he told her, humbled by her compassion.
Everyone in her life had abandoned or used her. But here she was, concerned over making the Aubusson damp for the chamber maids.
She nodded. “Very well, then. Show me, if you please.”
Her words sent a sharp current of lust straight through him. He cupped her cheek and brought her mouth to his for a long, thorough kiss that left them both breathless.
“Do you remember the carriage?” he asked, referring to the night they had gone to supper and he had pleasured her on the way back to Torrington House.
“I do.”
Her eyes darkened with desire.
“Just like that.” He withdrew his fingers from her and took her waist in a gentle grip beneath the warm water.
Torrie guided her until she was facing him on bent knees, her legs on either side of his. Her wet hands settled on his shoulders, then caressed down his chest, making his cock twitch. Her breasts were full temptations in the water, but her nipples were submerged. A situation he rectified immediately by lifting her higher so he could draw one taut bud into his mouth.
Her nails scraped his chest. “Torrie.”
Fuck, he loved it when she scratched him and moaned his name. And he loved her nipples in his mouth and the way she arched her back and thrust more of her breast into his face. He loved the way she smelled and the divine temptation of all her curves above and below the water’s sweet-scented surface. He released her nipple with a lusty-sounding pop and inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm his raging need.
“Take what you want from me,” he urged. “Touch me.”
One of her hands glided beneath the water, down his chest and past his abdomen. When her fingers wrapped around his cock in a firm, sure grasp, he groaned, his head falling back against the lip of the tub.
“Like this?” she asked hesitantly.
“Hell yes,” he managed as she began stroking him from base to tip. “Just like that, love. Don’t stop.”
Never stop,he thought.
Torrie wanted to surge inside her, but he also wanted her hand on him. Wanted her to take control of the moment and himself and her own desire, too. Being at her sensual mercy was the most exquisite seduction.
As was watching her settle into her own sensual power. And oh, what power she had over him. Not just in this, the carnal. But in other ways, too. Since their marriage, he had spent his days thinking about her, wanting to make her happy. Living for her, not just for himself.
Her hand glided up and down his cock with greater confidence, swiftly banishing his ability to concentrate on anything other than Bess. Her touch. Her body warm and slippery atop his. Her breasts bobbing temptingly in the water between them. Her mouth awaiting more of his kisses. Her fingers working him, pulling and gripping and twisting until he was almost ready to come in the water instead of inside her where he belonged.
