They’re careful, gentle even, but firm as his fingers press into my flesh, his skin warming mine and releasing goosebumps along my spine.
“Easy,” he murmurs, stabilizing me as he walks me to the tub.
His arm is like a safety belt as I step over the lip of the tub, my feet finding the gloriously hot water in the clawfoot basin a moment later. I can see the heat in Miko’s eyes as he lowers me into the tub—he wants me.
But he doesn’t act on it.
Instead, he releases me as soon as I’m settled. Then he turns to collect my wedding dress from the floor.
“Thank you,” I murmur as the steaming bathwater laps around my body, seeping into my skin and calming the bone-deep shivers racking me.
The corners of his lips twitch, his startling blue eyes warming as he hangs my dress on a hook. “You’re welcome.”
My eyes slide closed at the deep rumble of his voice, a sound that could almost be soothing.
But his momentary act of kindness does nothing to ease my nerves. Not when I’m naked and alone in a bedroom with my new husband for the first time.
When I get down to it, I’m just as scared about what’s to come as I was about what happened in the ballroom.
And I can feel the sand slipping through the hourglass, slowly counting down to our wedding night.
Trying not to think about it, I pick up a sponge and focus on scrubbing the gore from my chest. I can still feel it burning my skin despite the fact that it’s already started to crust. When I look back up, I don’t expect the sight I find.
Miko has started to undress, and for the first time, I notice the blood staining his suit and hands.
I don’t even know if it’s his from stepping in to defend me or if the blood from my dress got smeared on him somehow.
Either way, he doesn’t seem to mind as he drops the clothes in a neat pile on the floor, starting with his tie and jacket, followed by his white silk shirt.
My mouth goes dry as I get my first glimpse of the muscles hidden beneath his expensive clothing.
I’ve never seen shoulders so broad and muscular, or a back that ripples with strength every time he moves.
His skin is a canvas of tattoos, the motifs of death and destruction artistically captured in black and white over his smooth, surprisingly pale flesh.
Then he reaches for his belt as he steps out of his shoes.
My stomach knots as I realize he intends to strip down completely.
He might be ready to consummate our marriage here and now, and anxiety tightens around my throat like an iron fist.
But as he sheds his pants and boxers all at once, then steps toward the shower, I realize he’s cleaning off the evidence of the bloody fight as well. In the mirror, his eyes find mine, and I can feel the amusement in his gaze as his lips curve into a smirk.
Heat floods my cheeks as I realize he caught me staring openly at his perfect body.
Flustered, I drop my eyes, bending forward to wash my face in the hot bathwater.
But I can’t forget the fact that Miko is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Pyotr was strong and muscular, sure, but he also liked to drink, so he remained soft around his belly.
Even when we first got married, he didn’t have the figure of a Greek god like Miko does.
And the thought of being close to a man who exudes such masculine strength makes my heart race.
It takes all my self-discipline not to watch as he steps beneath the stream of water, and as he scrubs suds over his body, I can’t help but peek at his glistening form when I know he’s not looking. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about a man being sexy. But there’s just no better word to describe Miko.
He doesn’t say a word as he rinses off the soap, turns off the water, then steps out onto the bathmat to wrap a towel around his tapered waist.
