“Very much.” Her words rode a release of breath. “We’re too dusty from the passages.”
“Mmm,” Isahn rumbled against her back. “Let me wash you?”
“I’ll order a bath.” She tried to stand again, but he tugged her against him.
“No need for that, Georgie. I’ll use my indispensable magic.”
She whimpered her assent as he let a few droplets of hot water trickle down the crease between her breasts.
Isahn stood, scooping her into his arms and carrying her off to the guest bedroom.
fifteen
George takes another bath.
Isahngavehimselfaquick rinse while she observed—entranced and slightly jealous of the water licking over his skin—then he hopped out of the basin so she could have a turn.
“You’re so beautiful, George.” He groaned appreciatively, helping her climb into the tub, his hand caressing the curve of her bottom and sending a shiver up her spine.
Watching him use pulses of hot water to clean his skin had been oddly arousing, and the slickness between her legs was nearly unbearable by the time she stood bare in the wash basin.
He was going toseeit.
“Everywhere?” he asked, seeking permission before beginning.
She blinked, fighting the urge to look down, to see if the tops of her thighs were already glossy, how they felt. “Everywhere except my hair.”
He hummed. “I find it curious that you only have hair on top of your pretty head. You never told me, what do you call this style?”
Isahn sent a rivulet of steaming liquid trailing toward her. Like a hot fingertip, it caressed her skin, drawing lazy circles over her pubic bone.
“Shaved?” She giggled, unsure of what to say. Her body claimed her full focus. Shivers rippled out from his point of contact, and tension built at her core. He hadnotdone this during their last bath.
“I like it bare. I can see your perfect little slit.”
When he dragged the tip of his magic tendril, featherlight, over her seam, George involuntarily tilted her hips, showing him more of herself, losing herself to the moment.
Isahn tugged his magic away, letting it hover inches from her body. Steam rose from his water to mingle with her heat.
“Touch me again,” George commanded, voice low and thick, surprising herself with her tone.
Isahn smirked, one side of his mouth dragging up, calling out his dimple. He shook his head.
Her mouth dropped open.The gall!She’d show him what she wanted. With a push of touch magic, George trailed an invisible fingertip up the length of Isahn’s member before swirling a circle beneath the sensitive underside of its head.
He moaned, and their eyes locked. Under the low light of the oil lamps, his irises shifted from a pale morning sky to the thrilling deep blue-gray of an incoming storm.
She shivered involuntarily as her nipples hardened to peaks, and using her magic, she grabbed Isahn’s biceps, caressing him firmly, urgently. When she gripped his chin with fingers of magic, he stepped forward, knees knocking the basin.
His eyes focused on something over her shoulder, and George faltered, releasing his jaw, pulling back her touch magic, ashamed. This—taking control, demanding what she wanted—it felt too familiar. Too much like her father.
Humming a soft sound of appreciation and need, Isahn tried to catch her gaze, but she stared at her basket of bath oils.
“Your arse looks magnificent in the window reflection.”
Henearlystartled a laugh from her, his words so shocking she forgot her guilt for a split second, but it slapped her across the face—lest she forget it—pulling her lips into a frown.
Isahn caught her wrist, his soft thumb rubbing a circle where it landed. “Georgie. Look at me.”
