With a final kiss, he leaves me alone to get dressed and I spend the rest of the day daydreaming about sex in the bath and shower while I make a start on clearing a fresh patch of garden for some extra vegetables, having finally defeated the chaotic web of knotted vines that were strangling the wild roses.
By the time I finish for the evening, I’m dirty and streaked with sweat and mud. And when I get to the bathroom, he’s already waiting for me, along with a bath full of hot bubbly water and a wicked grin on his face.
Chapter 49
Lincoln
The smudge of dirt on her nose is absolutely fucking adorable. I truly have never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life.
I help her out of her T-shirt. “Did you enjoy working in the garden, angel?”
She nods. “I think by next year we’ll be able to plant a whole range of new vegetables. We could easily grow enough for the three of us.”
The way she talks about the three of us like we’re a family, and her plans for next year make me happier than I could ever have imagined. I try in vain to keep the smug grin from my face while I undress her. I toss her top into the laundry hamper and press a kiss on the tip of her nose while I take off her bra. Then I crouch down to take off her leggings. As I peel them off her perspiration-covered skin, she chatters away excitedly about her plans for next spring and her enthusiasm for this place she now calls home lights me up from the inside. When I’ve removed all her clothes and she’s spectacularly naked, I take her hand and help her into the bath.
She sinks beneath the water, disappearing beneath the bubbles for a few seconds before she pops back up again, like a sealbreaking through the arctic water. A soft laugh tumbles from her lips and I just sit on the edge of the bath, smiling at her.
“Are you getting in, sir?” she asks with a sultry purr.
I shake my head. “I wasn’t planning to, angel.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you’ve worked hard all day and you deserve a little taking care of. And if I get into that bath with you...” I grab the bottle of shampoo from the side. “Then I’m certain all we’ll end up doing is fucking.”
She bites into her bottom lip and flutters her eyelashes. “But I like fucking, sir.”
I love hearing her use words like that with such confidence. As a reward, I lean down and give her a lingering kiss. I suspect she’s tired after her busy day, and I want her to know that us spending time together doesn’t always have to be about sex, as much as I’d like to climb into the hot water with her and fuck her senseless. “I know, angel. Bath first though. Okay?”
I squeeze a generous amount of shampoo into my palm and begin washing her long locks, working my fingers firmly over her skin. She moans softly when I gently massage her scalp, letting her head hang back between her shoulder blades and closing her eyes.
“That feels so good, sir. I might never want to wash my own hair ever again.”
I drop a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll wash your hair whenever you need.”
She smiles. “Hair washing. Tampon insertion and removal. You’d better be careful, sir. I might just make you my personal serv-vant.” She stutters on the last word like she regretted using it midway through saying it, and I suspect I know why.
With a soapy hand, I cup her jaw. “Imogen?”
She keeps her eyes tightly closed.
“Imogen. Look at me, baby.”
Her eyes flit open, and she worries her lip again, appearing anxious.
“There is no act of service that I wouldn’t gladly do for you. In fact, I would worship you on my knees if that’s what you wanted. I may have bought you, but you own me.”
She blinks, her eyes shining with tears. I dust my lips over hers and give her the briefest of kisses before I go back to washing her hair.
“Nobody has ever washed my hair before,” she whispers. “At least not that I remember. I’m sure my mom must have.”
Your mom did, and your dad, because they loved you with all their fucking hearts.That’s what I should tell her, but I’m too much of a coward to do that, so instead I tell her how beautiful and special she is to me. She blossoms under my praise, like the roses do under her tender care.
When she’s clean all over, I help her out of the bath and wrap her in a warm purple fluffy towel before diligently drying her skin, making sure I tend to every inch, which is just another reason to have my hands on her. Then as promised, I change her tampon before I help her into a clean T-shirt. When we’re done I carry her to bed and tuck her in.
“Lincoln, we haven’t eaten dinner yet,” she protests.
“I know, baby. Pierre is fixing us something we can eat here in bed.” I check my watch. “It will be ready in about five minutes.”
