She caught his arm. The second time she’d willingly reached for him. Her touch was light, tentative, and he stilled as she took the cloth from his hand and then dabbed at his arm.
The Perils of Wet Clothing
Nia could barely keep herself from shivering, and although she tried convincing herself it was from the wet and cold, she knew that ogling Jasper’s naked chest wasn’t helping.
As she dabbed and rubbed the linen along the contour of his arm, she instinctively studied his exposed skin. Pale and dusted with light brown hair, it was smooth and stretched over sinewy muscles. His physique was perfectly formed, from his shoulders, his back, to his arms, chest, and even his stomach.
Working her hands upward, she scrubbed him clean, avoiding his gaze because she couldn’t look at his naked torso and meet his stare at the same time. Already she must have blushed beet red.
His color had been high when he’d confronted her on the bank of the river.
She’d known he wouldn’t be happy with her actions, but she hadn’t believed she would scare him. Trouble was, she hadn’t thought about his feelings much at all.
He’d been right in saying she’d been inconsiderate. But she had not for a second imagined that he would worry about her.
In order to worry, one needed to care.
And he wouldn’t care about her. Would he? She’d been mostly a nuisance, after all.
She slid the cloth into his hair, dampening it, and then went back to work on his chest. As she worked, her heart pounded in her ears, and it had nothing to do with that slap from her father.
It was because of Jasper. Although seemingly relaxed on the outside, his muscles coiled with tension. Was it possible her touch affected him just as his affected her? True, he’d said the two of them would enjoy consummation. He’d even shown her why.
But at this moment, most likely, he was too angry to feel any of that.
“I am sorry, Jasper.” Emotion thickened her voice, causing it to come out lower than usual. “Forgive me?”
She forced her gaze up. His lips were parted, and he stared down at her with a hooded look—almost as though he was sleepy, but alert, and focused on…
On her.
She watched his throat move as he swallowed. “Of course.”
“It won’t happen again,” she promised. She absentmindedly dragged the linen across his chest, from one small, tight nipple to the other, and then down to his navel. Her opposite hand itched to help, and the same tingles she’d felt when he kissed her had doubled, tripled in intensity.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
His back was sinewy but also smooth. She raised her other hand and trailed her fingertips down his spine. Taking as much time as she dared, she finally declared him free of mud, and he turned back around.
Overall, the intimacy of riding in what suddenly felt like a very small carriage alone with an extraordinarily good-looking man, who also happened to be naked from the waist up, was taking its toll on her. Her thoughts, which ought to be jumbled, instead were busy contemplating the various improper yearnings springing to life.
So when he touched the fabric of her sleeve, she didn’t question him.
“Let me help you,” he said, his gaze dragging over her gown. “You can lay it on the opposite bench to dry.”
She immediately began shaking her head. She wore a pelisse beneath it, true, but…
Jasper’s hands felt warm on her shoulders, turning her, and she did not resist. As his fingers deftly untied her laces, she resisted the desire to lean back against him.
The carriage shifted with a jerk before being stabilized, and he held her steady.
“I… shouldn’t.”
“Probably not.” His chuckle was full of heavy irony. “But I think you’re beyond that, don’t you?”
He had a point. And her gown was just as wet as his shirt. “Everything is so different. All of this. I—” She shook her head. “I’ve never done anything like this. And now, I’m not sure who I am…”
She shivered.
