But this, like everything with Rhys, was novel.
Her hand slid across his rough, unshaven cheek and around to the back of his head, her fingers weaving through those loose curls. She followed the movement with her body, coming half out of the bathtub to press her mouth to his. His lips were firm, but soft as they gave over and returned her kiss, his hand reaching up and cupping her face, gently, as if she were precious to him, his other hand sliding down and cupping a breast. He groaned into her mouth, and she swayed forward, giving him more access.
“Tilly, you’ll fall out of the tub,” he said, his chuckle whispering across her lips.
She found a laugh of her own joining his, at the situation, at herself, her eagerness, as she released him and shifted backwards in the tub, slightly weightless. She could feel the saucy smile on her mouth. “How can you join me in here if you don’t take your clothes off first?”
He didn’t hesitate. He slipped his shirt over his head in a swift, elegant sequence of movement that might’ve been showing off.
Then he stood.
The breath caught in her lungs.
Lawks, the sight of this man.
How did a woman ever get over it?
Those broad shoulders and chest fuzzed with black hair, leading the eye down the ridged muscles of his stomach…down to where those long, capable fingers of his were working the falls of his trousers.
Her mouth went dry.
Which was the only dry thing about her.
One button undone, then another…and another…then…
He was free.
She gasped.
Rhys chuckled, and her eyes startled up to meet his. “My cock tends to elicit that response.”
“It’s so…”
“Big?” he finished for her.
She swallowed and nodded. As he stepped out of his trousers, she shifted to one end of the tub to allow him inside with her. He planted his hands on each side and began to lower.
On instinct, she stopped him. She wanted to feel him. That muscled stomach…those thick thighs…that taut arse… his shaft.
Tentatively, her fingers feathered up its long, thick length. On instinct, she angled forward and touched her tongue to him.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Tilly, you don’t have to?—”
Up the length of his hard, muscled body, she met his gaze. “Isn’t this about what I want?”
“Aye.” His voice had gone to velvet gravel.
“I want to feel you this way, Rhys.”
She dragged her tongue up his shaft. How hot and smooth he was against her. Hard as iron, but so very human—strong and vulnerable.
His fingers twined through her hair as she took him into her mouth and used her hand for the other half that wouldn’t fit. She swirled her tongue around the crown and moved on him.
This was pleasure not simply received, but pleasure freely given.
And, oh, how that distinction increased her desire—every moan…every groan…making him wild for her.
And, oh, how she liked him like this—wild for her.
