“No,” he answered after a time. “I’ll send someone else.”
“And what if I want you?”
The words severed any remaining denial within him, and he dared to turn back. Though her arms now covered her bare breasts, he could see the blush on her cheeks. She was no maiden, for she had known a husband’s touch. She knew exactly what she was offering, and God help him, he lacked the willpower to say no. But he would try once more.
“This wasn’t part of our arrangement.”
She regarded him, her blue eyes capturing his. “Do you want to leave me?”
He’d dreamed of touching that sweet skin, of tasting every inch of her. Of joining their bodies together, sheathing himself inside until she arched with trembling pleasure.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He drew nearer, setting the soap down upon the wooden floor. There was a stool beside the tub and he went to sit upon it. From this vantage point, he could see her wet skin glistening against the candlelight.
“Yes, I do. And I don’t want to be alone this night. Not when I might die on the morrow.”
He understood, then. She wanted a few hours to forget the men pursuing them, to seize a moment of pleasure when it could be her last. He could no more refuse her than he could sever his right arm.
Slowly, Celeste lowered her arms back into the water, revealing her breasts again. Pink-tipped and wet, they were large and tempting. Her nipples were erect, and his body responded with a desire so strong, his groin ached.
He dipped his hands into the hot water and then lathered up his hands. “Sit up,” he commanded. She obeyed, and he began by washing her back, sliding his hands over skin so soft, his hands grew slick. Scooping handfuls of water over her back, he rinsed her, and then soaped his hands once more. He caressed her shoulders with the soap, moving his palms down to touch her breasts.
They were a gentle weight, and he drew his thumbs over the pointed nipples, tormenting her as he washed them with the soap. Her hands gripped the edge of the tub, her eyes closed as she allowed him to touch her.
“Please—” she managed to say, gasping as he rinsed away the soap, easing her to sit up. Her nipples had darkened in color, and he gave in to temptation, kissing her deeply as he explored her breasts with both hands. He didn’t want her remembering her first husband or anyone else at this moment. Only him.
Though he didn’t know what had made her decide to invite him in, his honor had crumbled into dust. There was only Celeste kissing him hard, her tongue touching his while he gripped her above the water. Her hands were pulling at his tunic and he broke free long enough to remove it.
Celeste rose up to her knees in the tub, embracing him skin to skin. He didn’t care at all that her body was wet against his own. The sensation of her breasts pressed to him was more arousing than anything he’d ever felt before.
“Slow down,” he commanded, pressing her back. “I haven’t finished tending you in the bath yet.”
She stilled, but her eyes held a passion that mirrored his. “Then do what you will.”
She was dying against his touch. Dougal had washed every part of her, paying particular attention to her sensitive breasts. “Before the night is over, I’m going to taste you,” he warned.
Heaven help her, she prayed he would. Her body felt alive, as if he was possessing it with every touch, every kiss. Now that his tunic was off, she could see the firm muscles and his hard chest that tapered down to a ridged abdomen.
He used the soap again to wash her feet, his hands moving up one calf. He massaged her skin as he explored her, his hand drifting to her inner thigh. Her breathing was shaky, and the water lapped against her in another caress. Dougal repeated the motions with the other foot, washing her gently until his hand moved between her legs. His fingers rested against her intimate opening, and he palmed her there, his dark eyes locked with hers.
She gasped as his thumb edged her mons, his hand cupping her curls.
“Shall I wash you there?” he demanded.
She couldn’t speak, her body was rising so hard. She was utterly pliant against his hand, her breathing hitched as he stroked her. His thumb grazed the hard nodule above her opening, before he slid a finger inside her.
“Is this what you were wanting?” he asked, bending to kiss her mouth. His lips captured her, while below the water he penetrated her with his finger.
Slowly, he added another when she managed to answer a breathless, “Yes.”
The steady rhythm was starting to pull at her, and she was afraid of surrendering, unsure of what he was doing. But the more he touched her, the more she leaned in to him, feeling the ache between her legs. His warm mouth enclosed one nipple, and she gripped his head, shaking hard as the sensations intensified.
“Let go,” he ordered against her skin, taking the other nipple. “Celeste, stop fighting me.”
She didn’t know what he wanted, but when he began to suck hard, her fingers dug into his hair. He rubbed against her, his hands demanding a response she couldn’t bear.
Then he added another finger, and his thumb pressed her hard. A scorching release soared through her and she cried out, bucking against him as he filled her with his fingers. Her body was like melted tallow, pliant to him.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop myself,” she murmured, feeling embarrassed at what had happened.
