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“You’re going to wash me?” I ask, watching the sway of her breasts as she kneels at the edge of the tub.

“That was the plan.” She squeezes the liquid into her palm, rubbing her hands together until they glisten, then reaches for my shoulder. “You have to let go, West. That’s what baths are for.”

I let out a low groan as her hands slide over my chest, down my arms, massaging, teasing, exploring. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s on fire.

I’m not used to holding back. To not take what I want. My jaw tightens with the need to take control.

She leans in again, her lips brushing my temple. “See? Isn’t that nice?”

“Nice isn’t the word I’d use,” I murmur, reaching up and grabbing her wrist. “Get in.Now.”

She raises her brows, like she’s surprised by the edge in my voice. But her breathing hitches. She likes it. I can see it in the way her nipples tighten, in the flush that colors her cheeks.

“Bossy,” she says, smiling as she rises to her feet.

“Husbandy,” I reply. “There’s a difference.”

Her lips part, but before she can answer, I reach up and hook my hands behind her thighs, pulling her into the water with a splash. She squeals, laughing as she lands on top of me, her legsstraddling my hips, her bare skin sliding against mine. The shirt she’s wearing is wet, the cotton clinging to her body.

And suddenly, I don’t feel tense at all.

I feel wild.

I’m so hard it’s almost painful. She’s light in my hands, even lighter thanks to the water, but I can still feel the warmth of her thighs on either side of mine, and that perfectly pink pussy barely skimming my cock.

“This is where I tell you that I’m clean and on birth control,” she tells me.

I blink. “Okay.”

She lifts her brows at me. “And you tell me the same.”

“I’m not on birth control,” I say slowly. She rolls her eyes. “But I am clean.” I push the soaking shirt off her shoulders until it clings to her arms. I trail my fingers over her neck, her shoulders, the little dip at the base of her throat. Her eyes don’t leave mine as I move my hands lower, tracing the swell of her breasts. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” I tell her gruffly.

Her breath hitches as I cup her breasts with my hands, feeling her nipples pebble against my rough palms.

“Tell me what you were thinking,” she says, letting out another breath as I pinch her nipples hard.

I tug the shirt from her arms. I’m naked, I need my wife naked too. And damn, she’s so perfect I swear she belongs in a painting. All creamy skin and soft curves, her legs shaved and the rest of her, too.

“Did you do this for me?” I ask, running my hands over her silky calves. Because I’m a man, and I know freshly shaven skin when I feel it.

She gives me a sheepish smile. “I might have. This is a luxury spa, after all. We can’t have our VIP guests leaving with razor burn.”

I run my hands up the sides of her thighs, to her hips, curling my fingers around them. “And since you were wondering, I’ve been thinking about this mouth.” I kiss her softly. “About how good it felt last night. About how much I want to spend my night kissing it.” I brush my thumbs against her nipples. “And about these. How pretty they are. So pink, so hard. For me.”

She lets out a sigh. “What else?”

“I’ve been thinking about this,” I murmur against her lips, letting my hand fall lower, between us.

She gasps as my fingers slide through the slick heat between her legs. “West.”

“Yeah.” I press a kiss beneath her ear, feel her hips shift against my hand. “This is what I’ve been thinking about. All damn day. You. Wet. Ready. Coming for me.”

Her breath hitches again, her hands clutching my shoulders. “You’re not exactly making it easy for me to deliver top-tier spa service here.”

I smile against her skin. “You did your job. You relaxed me.”

“Good,” she whispers.