“How did I know you prefer this? You think I haven’t noticed how you smell?”
Prim blushed but smiled. But her smile was cut short when he stepped in the bathtub with her in his arms still.
“What is your plan? What are you doing?”
“You still seem confused. I am taking a bath with you.”
“I am sure this is not how baths are taken.”
He settled against the curved back, drawing her to rest against his chest.
“Since you are not sure, let me enrich your knowledge. This is exactly how baths are taken if you wish so.”
She chuckled and leaned against him. Somehow, this, them in the steamy bathroom, in his arms, enjoying the steamy water, was somehow more intimate than what they did the night before.
Without saying anything, Leo grabbed the fresh bar of soap, worked it between his palms, creating a rich lather. He started from her shoulders, rubbing the skin softly, her long hair pushed aside. Prim closed her eyes and let go in his care. His strong hands went down from her shoulders to her arms, her wrist, her hands.
“So, still have strong opinions on how baths are taken?” He murmured in her ear.
“I may be reassessing previous standards,” she said softly.
He chuckled in her ear, the sound as hot as the water around them. His hands moved back to her shoulders, this time taking a path down her spine, to her waist. More lather, and this time his touch started from her neck, down under her arms to the swell of her breasts.
The moment that soft foam, along with his firm fingers, touched her, she fell back on his chest, her body arching. He stayed there till his hand dipped lower to the curve of her waist, the flesh of her thighs.
“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered in her ear as his hand nudged her legs open. “You must be sore.”
Prim let her knees open for him, and he took the soap to gently clean her intimate parts. He was more than gentle, his touch tender, tentative. She was the most exposed with him, but she felt safe.
“My turn,” he said suddenly.
Her eyes popped open and turned over her shoulder. She found him smiling at her, handing the soap bar. He leaned back and smiled that infuriating smile of his.
Prim had two options. One was to stand up and walk away, chased by embarrassment. The other was to enjoy touching her husband. Prim was wise. She turned her body in the tub, on herknees between his legs. She looked at him in his stormy, blue eyes while his look never left hers. She created lather in her hands and then rubbed his shoulders, down his chest, slowly, thoroughly.
His smug smile dropped, his chest drew deep breaths, his nostrils flared. His hands gripped the edges of the bathtub, his knuckles white. He was on the verge of losing control, and Prim was enjoying seeing him unravel.
“I think I am clean enough,” he growled and pulled her to him for a wet kiss.
It was long after the after got cold, and Prim watched him eat his breakfast. They didn’t talk, they just stared at each other with that knowing look of two people who just enjoyed each other’s taste. He had ordered the breakfast to be brought to his sunny sitting room, making it intimate. He was dressed for the day, and she wore a simple gown, with her wet hair in a simple bun
“I must go to London,” he broke the silence.
She nodded, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment.
“I really don’t want to,” he leans to her. “But this is an important bill.”
“I understand,” she said, pouting.
“It’s not that I can tell them ‘I just spent the first night with my wife after a month married because I am an idiot’, now, can I?”
She laughed, the sound bright and unexpected in the sunlit room.
“I suppose that would come as a shock to certain members of the parliament. Given your reputation.”
His look got somber. He got up and went to his dressing room. He came back out with his hat and gloves, but also a wooden box. He set aside his things and knelt to offer her the box.
“I have held onto it since the day you walked into my home as Lady Mildenhall.”
