Everything. I realized I likeeverything.
I dragged my attention from Raoul’s chest. Why was it so difficult to look away?
And I tried to focus on his question.
“I—no. I eat whatever. I’m not particular about food.”
“Very good, Your Majesties.” Geoff bowed again. “I’ll have breakfast sent up shortly.”
He departed, closing the door softly behind him, and I was alone again with my nearly naked husband.
“There’s a bathing pool through here.” Raoul gestured to a door off the sitting room I hadn’t noticed last night. “You’re welcome to wash before breakfast arrives.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.” I hadn’t bathed properly in days, too absorbed in my research. The magical rain shower yesterday didn’t count.
I followed him through the door into a cave that took my breath away.
The space was large, easily the size of my research tower’s main room, with a high ceiling that disappeared into shadows. In the center, a pool of steaming water stretched at least twenty feet across, its surface perfectly still and reflecting the soft blue glow of luminescent crystals embedded in the walls. The water was so clear I could see every stone at the bottom, arranged in natural patterns by centuriesof water flow.
At the pool’s edge, someone had arranged thick, fluffy towels on a polished stone shelf alongside an array of soaps, oils, and bathing gels in clay bowls. The scent of minerals hung in the air. Volcanic springs, I realized. Naturally heated by the mountain’s geothermal activity.
“This is beautiful,” I said, already calculating the temperature of the water based on the steam patterns rising from its surface.
“Please, feel welcome. You can put my tunic back on after, until I have more clothing brought to the chamber.”
“Thank you, that’s very?—”
I stopped talking because Raoul had reached for the tie of his loincloth.
And unfastened it.
And let the scrap of fabric drop to the stone floor.
I spun around so fast I nearly lost my balance, my face burning hotter than the volcanic springs could possibly account for. Behind me, I heard his footsteps, then the soft sound of water lapping as he descended into the pool.
He released a contented sigh. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
I turned slowly, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on his face. He sat in the pool, water kissing his chest, his arms spread along the carved stone edge. Steam rose around him like dragon smoke, and he watched me with that same predatory expression from last night I could not define.
“Join you?” I croaked.
“For a bath.” His head tilted. “Isn’t shared bathing customary where you’re from?”
“I… We… That is…” I couldn’t seem to form a complete sentence.
This was ridiculous. I was a grown woman. I’d been intimate with someone before, though sex hadn’t beenworthy enough to bother with more than once. I’d studied anatomy, both ours and that of magical creatures. The male form held no mysteries for me.
But theory and practice were proving to be vastly different things.
Raoul’s expression shifted to what might be concern. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Dragon shifters are less particular about nudity than other species. It’s impractical to be modest when we’re constantly shifting forms. If you’d prefer privacy?—”
“No,” I blurted out, then wondered why I’d said it. “I mean, yes.” I took a breath. “I’m not uncomfortable. Just surprised. We’re supposed to maintain distance, remember? Professional partnership?”
I could almost hear the huff he bit back. “This is a bath, not a declaration of intent. Unless you’d rather I leave?”
“No,” I said again, more firmly this time. “You live here. I’m not going to exile you from your own bathing pool. Bad enough you’re sleeping in the sitting room while I’m in your bed.”
I reached for the hem of the tunic, but hesitated. This was fine. Perfectly normal. We were two adults who happened to be married, sharing a bath in a completely platonic way. Like research colleagues conducting a field study.
