“Well, ye didnae,” she managed at last. “Just as well, really. I wouldnae want to leave ye without a betrothed, after all.”
He gave a low huff, deep in his throat.
“I daenae think ye ken what ye want, lass,” he whispered, voice barely a rasp. Before she could respond, he moved forward, leaning over the edge of the tub. A warm, wet hand snaked across the expanse of her naked shoulders, pausing to cup the back of her neck. There was a breath, the space of a simple heartbeat, when she knew that he was going to kiss her. He knew that she knew, and she knew, just as strongly, that she was going to let him.
Their lips met, steam-damp in his case and water-wet in hers. The kiss started tentatively, just a gentle pressing of lips. Heat flooded her, rivaled by the warm water swirling around her. Creighton was the first to deepen the kiss, tilting his chin to find a better angle for them to connect, the tip of his tongue tracing her lower lip. She reached out to grip his shoulder, then stopped halfway, her hand hovering awkwardly between them.
Creighton chuckled against her lips, leaning back an inch or two.
“Nae like ye to be nervous, lassie.”
“I daenae want to get ye wet,” she blurted out. It felt like a silly excuse. She wanted to touch him, wantedhim, wanted to feel the breadth of his shoulders under that shirt, wanted…
She didn’t know what she wanted. He was right about that.
He chuckled again, long fingers wrapping around her damp wrist. Taking her hand, he guided it to his shoulder. At once, a wet handprint soaked into the linen. Leaning closer, Creighton kissed her again.
Nora found herself shifting in the bath, leaning back just a little. Kissing made sense, once a person had done it once, and she found herself kissing him back, her tongue chasing his tentatively.
His free hand, the one not curled around her nape, traced a line down the front of her throat, all the way down to the hollow of her collarbones. She could feel the warmth of his palm pressed over her heart, and it made her breath hitch.
And then, just an inch or two further, his forefinger traced the top curve of her breast. Nora sucked in a breath. He continued, sliding down beneath the water. When the pad of his finger touched the tip of her nipple, almost experimentally, she gasped aloud, jerking back from the kiss.
Creighton watched her, eyes heavy-lidded.
“Clean enough?” he whispered, hunger waiting at the back of his eyes.
Nora shakily drew out her tongue to swipe over her lower lip. His gaze followed the movement.
“Nay,” she whispered.
A slow smile spread over his face. “That’s what I thought.”
He kissed her again, and Nora closed her eyes, letting the sensations wash over her. His hand returned to her breast, gliding over it almost carelessly over, not touching properly like she wanted. His hand sank deeper into the water, nearly to the elbow. A teasing touch traced down the center of her belly, moving forward to curl fingers around her knee bone. He shifted, getting onto his knees instead of staying on his heels.
Nora’s own heartbeat hammered in her ears. Creighton’s fingertips trailed tantalizingly slowly down from her bent knee up along her thigh, toward her hip. He put his whole hand around the curve of her hip, giving the tiniest squeeze. For some reason, that squeeze made her blood jump. She couldn’t breathe. The steam crowded in around her, seeming to be searingly hot all of a sudden.
Pulling back from the kiss, Nora gasped. His hand slid from her hip and cupped, slowly and deliberately, around the junction of her legs. Pleasure surged through her stomach, so intense it almost hurt. Her knees unintentionally shifted apart. The sleeve of his shirt now dragged in the water, wet almost to the shoulder.
Tugging almost roughly against her shoulders, Creighton kissed her again, his tongue sliding deep into her mouth, warm and soft against hers. Fingers slid against her wet core, and dizzying sensations shot through her, enough to make her gasp aloud. He swallowed those gasps, pulling her against him, and she steadied herself on his shoulders. Water from her hands slopped down his back and chest, dampening the fabric, but she didn’tcare.
Again and again, he drew a line against her, a languid and almost careless rhythm. It wasn’tenough, and Nora let out another strangled whine, her hips shifting. He chuckled, and she felt the rumble of it all the way down in her chest.
He increased his speed, his fingers sliding against her with more urgency. One finger slidinsideher, a strange sensation that nonetheless set her blood on fire. Something sparked deep inside her, something connected to the pleasurable ache that had pursued her for entirely too long, and Nora felt oddly as if she were on the brink of falling.
Water slopped around his arm, shifting with the speed of his movements. Nora had to break back from the kiss, struggling to breathe, and he tilted his head, pressing warm, damp lips against the side of her neck. She felt the tiniest pinprick of teeth, a shudder of pleasure following the sensation.
“Come on then, lass,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Give it to me.”
Nora’s peak came crashing upon her, a rush of pleasure so intense she squeezed her eyes shut tight, fingers digging intoCreighton’s shoulders in a way that should surely have hurt, but he said nothing.
Gradually, the bathwater settled again, and Nora’s ragged breathing slowed. She cracked open her eyes, and it seemed as though the washroom was shifting around her.
Creighton was watching her intently, and it occurred to her, belatedly, that he must have been watching her face the whole time her climax had shaken her. There was something a little embarrassing about that. Clearing her throat, Nora withdrew her hands from his shoulders. Her fingers had dug in, and she winced.
“I… I hope I didnae hurt ye,” she managed. Her voice had turned embarrassingly hoarse. She gestured at his shoulders to indicate what she meant.
“Hurt me? Nay,” Creighton responded lightly. His face was pink, but that was probably due to the steam and the exertion. He withdrew his arm from the bathwater, his soaked sleeve sticking to his skin. “I am fine, lass. And I suspect thatyeare doin’ a good deal better than before.”
