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Another little shift. Better. Not great, but an improvement.
“Right,” he said, “how’s that feel?”
Salome sighed. “Wonderful.”
Were they talking about the water? Or were they talking about his straining flesh, swollen and aching against her?
“The water’s so soothing.”
Good. They were talking about the water. She was, anyway.
“It’s magic,” she whispered.
She was the magic. She felt so soft in his arms. So right. Her head was against his shoulder and her eyes were closed, her lashes dark crescents against her cheeks. The ends of her hair were wet and trailed over her breasts like drifts of gold and her mouth…
Her mouth looked like a flower petal.
Cam bent his head, brushed his mouth lightly over hers.
“Sweet,” he whispered.
She tilted her chin up. Her lips parted. Her mouth clung to his and he felt his blood thunder in his ears.
“I’m going to bathe you now, Salome.”
His voice was rough as gravel. His heart was racing. Gently he lifted her from his lap and stood her between his legs. Then he reached for one of the washcloths stacked on the tub’s ledge.
He dipped it in the water.
“First your face,” he whispered. “And your throat.” She closed her eyes. “And then—and then—” Slowly he ran the cloth over her breasts. He felt her tremble. He was trembling, too, as he took the cloth lower, over her belly, lower, lower…
The cloth fell from his fingers. He bent his head, kissed her breasts as he slipped his hand between her thighs. She whimpered and his touch lingered, centered on that one forbidden place.
“That feels…” Her head fell back. “That feels…”
“Does it?” His voice was raw. His body was on fire. “How does it feel, Salome?”
She sighed. He increased the friction. Warned himself that this was only for her. For her. Not for him. Not for—
Her cry rose into the night. Pleasure, fierce and elemental, rushed through him. He had done this. Given her this.
A feeling so deep, so intense it terrified him shot through his heart.
Quickly he got to his feet. Lifted his golden dancer in his arms. Stepped from the tub with her clinging to his neck, with his mouth drinking from hers. Gently he set her on her feet. Wrapped her in an enormous towel.
Then he kissed her again, lifted her again. Carried her from the bathroom to the bed, where he laid her down as carefully as if she were the most precious treasure in the universe.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
Never, he thought fiercely. He would never leave her again.
“Shh,” he said, and kissed her.
He locked the sitting room door, then jammed a chair under it. The bedroom door had no lock; a chair alone would have to do.
By the time he came back to the bed, Salome was asleep.
He sat down next to her, smiling as he watched her. She lay on her back, her hair spread over the silk pillows.
