“I won’t,” she said. “I promise.”
“Can you swim?” he asked.
“No,” she admitted. “Just like horse-riding, father thought it was unladylike.”
“I will teach you how,” he said firmly. “Swimming is a survival tactic, not a luxury.”
She craned her head to look over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
He reached for the bar of soap near them, and he handed it over; it was an aromatic blend of lemon and sandalwood specially formulated by his valet, and after ducking into the water to wet his hair, lathered it in.
“Let me do that for you,” she said while switching their positions.
Straddling his lap, she worked at the wet hair, digging her fingertips into his scalp. As he leaned in to tuck his head in the crook of her neck, she massaged the muscles along his neck. Cedric moaned as she massaged his scalp with deep strokes.
She wiped the suds from his forehead and reached for a pitcher to rinse his hair. When he came up and slicked his hair away, he said, “My turn.”
He sat behind her, washing her hair and massaging her scalp until she went lax with ease. His arms came around to cup her breasts while his mouth rested on her shoulder.
He curved his palm around one silk-covered breast, his blood rushing at the delicate heft. When his thumb grazed the not-so-subtle tip, she made a little sound that was a moan and a sigh.
So, he did it again. And again, until she arched into the caress and he knew she was ready for more. His mouth coasted over the back of her shoulder, leaving hot brands of kisses searing into her neck. He was not quiescent anymore.
Letting out a breath, she said, “You're stiff.”
“I'd say.” He muttered against her skin. “It's a problem I seem to develop whenever I'm around you.”
Her fingers dug deeper into his thigh as his kisses strayed down her spine. She held on to the tub’s edge, water sloshing as she squirmed from his scandalous kisses.
Suddenly, his lips vanished, and before she could gather herself, hands reached under her, and she was being lifted out of the tub. Cedric sat her on the floor, before he whirled a towel around her, wicking off most of the water, she found herself in his arms again.
“Cedric—” she gasped. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed,” he said shortly. “I think it’s time to consummate this marriage.”
“Wait—” she tried to stop him. “I need something to tell you.”
“It can wait,” he said gruffly.
His bedchamber was oddly dim for the middle of the day, but she reasoned that he’d come home to sleep, so it would be darkened. The fire in the hearth casts shadows over the grey-on-grey damask walls. A pair of windows covered by voluminous velvet drapes was to the left of a large tester bed— a bed she rested on.
He placed her on the bed, and she scooted up, while he climbed on the bed. At the contact of skin against skin, the breath punched out of her lungs.
Body to body; skin to skin, heat to heat. He sank his fingers into her hair, holding her steady as he kissed her. First with tenderness and then with a ferocity that sent pulses of heat through her blood.
Leaning down, he captured her plump nipples between his lips, sucking fiercely as he kissed his way down. When he placed a hand on her delicate ankle, she quieted, her eyes growing wide.
Reverently, he caressed her satiny leg up to her pretty knees, which were pressed tightly together. “Part your legs for me.”
She frowned, “Why?”
He stroked up her skin. “Remember when you put your mouth on me? I want to do the same thing to you.”
Shyly, she did as asked, and he positioned himself between her slender limbs, touching her sleek inner thigh, feeling her quiver as he regarded the soft nest that guarded her feminine secrets.
He ran a finger along her quim. “Devil and damn, you’re wet.”
She was dripping, her dew coating his finger. She bit her lip, looking worried. “Is that, um, normal?”
