The receptionist’s eyes bugged like a bullfrog’s. "Oh! Yes. Of course." Lowering her voice, she said, "We quite often get celebrities in here. I assure you, we areverydiscreet."
In short order, they were escorted to a private elevator—something which made Fen feel better about the possibility of remaining undiscovered—and shown to a suite. They tipped the bellboy, shut and locked the door, and released Precious from her suitcase. She hissed at them as she emerged, and flew to the top of an exquisitely carved antique wardrobe. Sugar joined her.
Carter grinned and grabbed her hand. "Let's go!"
Like a pair of teenagers running to skinny dip in a lake, they clasped hands and rushed to the bathroom. She barely took in the luxurious surroundings. All she could think of was that she and Carter were alone at last, with nothing standing between them. And nothing was standing between them and hot water, either.
Fen stripped down faster than Carter. Once she’d hurled her clothes into a laundry basket so nice that she hated to pollute it with swampiness, she caught sight of herself in the mirrors. One thing the swamp had lacked was bright artificial lighting and full-length mirrors. With those aids to show exactly how much of a disaster you were, she noted that she had smears of mud and paint everywhere except in her cleavage, but that one area of clean skin was covered with sugar glider hairs. Bruises and scrapes showed through some of the mud. Her hair was tangled, there were scratches on her face, and her nail polish existed only in patches that made her nails look worse than if she hadn't had any polish to begin with.
“I look like I got kidnapped, dumped in a swamp for days, and knocked down repeatedly,” she remarked.
Carter laughed as he tossed his boxers into the laundry basket. “What do you think? Who’s more of a mess, you or me?”
His hair was no longer black, but a mix of mud-brown and paintball-rainbow. That color scheme continued for most of his body, occasionally interspersed with bruise-black and blood-red. He was as far from the polished, stylish, put-together, magazine cover Carter Howe as it was possible to get.
She’d never wanted a man more. And when she looked into his eyes, she saw the same hungry passion there.
Fen caught his hand in hers. As one, they scrambled into the shower. The first cascade of hot water was the most luxurious sensation she’d ever felt. She lifted her face to it, letting it wash away mud and paint and sweat and swamp. The water was so soft that it felt silken on her skin. She turned around, stretching as it beat down on her back like the best rain ever.
The luxury shower head was big enough to cover two people at once. Carter too stood beneath the flow. Water cascaded over him, washing away the paint and grime. It turned his hair into black satin. Water ran over his broad shoulders and strong forearms, and dripped off his clever fingers. It sheeted over the muscles of his chest, making them shine as if they been oiled. Tiny water drops clung and fell from his long eyelashes. The expression on his face was one of sheer ecstasy.
"You sure clean up nice," remarked Fen.
Carter eyed her appreciatively, his gaze lingering on her body like a caress. "I could say the same for you."
He reached for the selection of soaps and body washes. "Want me to give you a hand? What's your favorite?"
"I like soap better than body wash," she said.
"Me too," he replied. "There's something much more luxurious about real soap. Pick one and I'll give you a massage."
There was a good selection, from a Bulgarian soap shaped and scented like a red rose to a brown rectangle with a woodsy masculine aroma. She picked up a handmade cake with a subtle pattern of white and green, sniffed it and inhaled a complex modern perfume, then put it back down. That was pleasant and sophisticated, but she was in the mood for something more cozy. At last she selected a smooth oval with sunset colors, scented with peaches and honey.
She handed it to Carter. "Here you go."
"Good choice."
Carter rubbed the soap between his hands, lathering it up, and cupped her cheeks in his hands. She gave an involuntary shiver at his touch. It was so gentle and yet so sensual. He gently massaged her cheeks, stroking and caressing them, touching them with the hands of a lover. She swallowed, as shivery warmth running through her entire body that had nothing to do with the warm water.
He rubbed the peach scented lather all over her face, shielding her eyes with his hands, before rinsing it off. She had never had a man take such care with her before. She touched her both as if she was made of glass and might break if you did it wrong, and as if she was a living woman who appreciated all the care he took.
"That's marvelous," she sighed. "Have you ever considered a new career as a facial masseuse?"
"Oh, Fen," Carter said, his voice husky. "Just wait till you see what I can do with the rest of your body."
He worked up more lather with the peach and honey soap, and then pulled her back so she was leaning against his chest. He gave the same treatment to her neck and shoulders and arms and hands and fingers. He even rubbed gently around her fingernails, removing the dirt from beneath each one. When he was done and they were rinsed clean, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed each fingertip.
"Careful." Her voice wavered as her breath caught. "You promised me a full body massage. I'm starting to get distracted."
"You have no idea how distracted I can make you."
His clever hands slid down to her breasts. Her nipples instantly hardened under his fingers, and she rubbed herself against his hands like a cat. He caressed her breasts until she dazedly began to wonder if she could come from that alone. By the time he let the water rinse them clean, she was in a dreamy haze of desire. She sagged back against him, and gave a little wriggle against his rock hard shaft for the pleasure of feeling him jerk and gasp.
"Now you know how I feel," she murmured.
He too was having trouble catching his breath; she could feel it as well as hear it. “I think I saw…”
“Yeah, me too…”
