She found him lounging at the far end of the tub, his legs open wide, knees raised, making space for her between them.
Accepting his offered hand, George went for it, surprising herself with her own lack of shyness when it came time to lift a leg over the rim of the basin. She was comfortable—more than comfortable—being fully nude around this man. It wasn’t entirely perplexing how she got to this point, but it was a surprise to find just how far he’d wormed his way into her heart.
“Can I wash you?” Isahn rumbled, the tips of his fingers running over her shoulder blades.
Her head bobbed. This wasn’t the plan, but she was happy with the change, especially when he grabbed her firmly around the upper arms and slid her back.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded again, her dry curls clinging to his damp chest. “Everywhere?” George rasped.
“Do you want me to wash you everywhere?”
She hummed, and Isahn practically growled, pulling a husky laugh from deep in her chest.
Abandoning her body briefly, he retrieved the basket of soaps and oils for her perusal. After a moment’s concentration, she handed over her favorite, a sultry spiced rose scent.
He began his task, lathering her right arm, working his way down from shoulder to wrist, his movements slow and deliberate.
“I’m saving the best parts for last, just to let you know.” His low voice vibrated against her upper back, and the tip of his erection pressed firmly against her spine.
Melting into his chest, her muscles relaxed, and her worries skipped away. He swapped the soap for the loofah and rubbed gentle circles over her skin. The anticipation as George waited for him to get to the “best parts” began its deliciously slow build.
As he washed her with delicate motions, she realized she’d never felt so relaxed around any man, even those she’d been intimate with. Isahn was so different: open and genuine and kind. She trusted him. The overwhelming urge to tell him flooded her, a cozy warmth that spread from the center of her chest down to the bottom of her belly.
The heat was quickly sucked away by a chill of anxiety. What if he didn’t feel the same?What if he doesn’t care? Would he be doing what he’s doing if he didn’t care?
If she didn’t say something to at least hint at the feelings she was developing, she’d lose her godsdamn mind.
With a steadying breath, George let her words flow: “I know we’ve only known each other for nine days, but you make me feel safe, Isahn.”There.She breathed a sigh of relief.
His simple nod, chin bumping against the crown of her head, reignited the blooming warmth in her chest.
With a tap of his fingers, he asked her to rotate her arm so he could wash the inside.
Though her heart hammered with the force of her vulnerability, his quiet understanding prompted her to continue. “Things here, under my father’s rule, they’re not good at all. And they’ve gotten even worse since he— My mother’s been gone a decade.” She sighed as he moved on to wash herleft arm. “As much as I want to keep you tucked away, safe in my apartment, I can’t shield you from the palace entirely. That’s not why you’re here. But,deiwa nekami,it’s terrible at times. Without ruining this lovely evening”—George ran her palm up the outside of Isahn’s thigh—“let me just say that I don’t always find it possible to relax, especially not here in Hepikoru. But with you around, it’s... different.You’redifferent.”
“How am I ‘different’?” he murmured, reaching around to wrap his fingers beneath her right knee, urging her leg up and out of the water so he could attend to it.
“You’ve never snapped at me or been rough. Even when we imprisoned you, you didn’t lash out. And you could’ve, easily.” His attention to her thighs was intensely distracting, but George wasn’t done with this conversation, so she ignored the rising need in her core.
He grunted in disagreement. “I charged you with my magic.” One of his big, hot hands came to rest at the base of her spine. “Scoot forward so I can wash your back and your hair.”
She moved up and leaned her breasts against her knees. “You’re wrong, by the way,” she murmured as he slid the smooth bar of rose soap down the length of her spine, stopping just above the crease of her bottom.
“How am I wrong?” Isahn chuckled. “I absolutely pushed my magic out at you, without permission.”
He was wrong; he hadn’t been aggressive. Annoyance that he would blame himself flooded her, and she snapped, “I slapped you away, and you stopped, immediately. We had you in shackles, Isahn!Deiwa hathemi. You were a perfect gentleman, given the circumstances.”
“What does that mean?” He swapped the slippery soap for the sponge and caressed it over her back before dropping it and tugging George against him. His wiry leg hairs rasped against her outer thighs, and his forearm barred across her belly.
She sucked in a breath and wondered aloud, “Circumstances?” Isahn’s hold on her was so disarming, she’d already forgotten what she said.
He chuckled, his chest hair rough against her back. “No. ‘Deiwa hathemi.’ You say that a lot. And the other one, ‘nekami.’What do they mean? Goddess something?”
Tipping her head up to look at him, she grinned. “Goddess help me, and goddess kill me. It’s so sweet when you speak the Old Tongue.”
“That’s not the Old Tongue.”
