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Then he crouches down to check the temperature of the water, and as I stare at the nape of his neck, at the vulnerable expanse of his naked shoulders, it finally hits me. Him being naked while I’m clothed is a shift in the power dynamic between us. Though he’s very clearly in charge—I abdicated my control to him the moment I agreed to trust him in this—the fact that I’m clothed and he’s naked makes me the armored one. It takes away some of the vulnerability I’m feeling and puts it squarely on him.
My knees tremble at the thought. This man. This wonderful, strong, thoughtful man is doing everything to make this okay for me. He promised that he would, and while I gave him my trust out there on that patio, for the first time I’m really beginning to believe that things might actually work out. That this moment won’t end the way last night did, with me screaming and terrified of the specters from my past.
“It’s almost ready,” Ethan says from where he’s perched by the tub. He’s completely at ease with his nudity, completely relaxed being on display for me. Th
en again, it’s not like the man has any reason to be insecure. He’s so beautiful to look at that it actually hurts.
I reach for the bottom of the floaty yellow tank I’m wearing and pull it off in one fell swoop. Then I shimmy out of the pretty skirt before hanging both on a set of hammered chrome hooks that decorate the wall closest to the shower. Ethan watches me from eyes gone dark with desire, and I force myself to stand before him in my yellow bra and panties as I wait for him to make the next move.
He doesn’t make it. Instead, he smiles at me and says simply, “You’re so beautiful. ”
“So are you. ”
I can tell from his face that that’s the last thing he expected me to say. I flush a little, wondering if I’ve done something wrong, but then he throws his head back and laughs. “I’m glad you think so. ”
“Me too. ”
The water hits the three-quarter mark in the massive tub, and Ethan leans over to turn the faucet off. I figure that’s my cue to finish undressing, so I reach behind me and unclasp my bra. I’m smart enough to know if I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it.
Seconds later, I’m standing naked before Ethan, feeling more intensely vulnerable than I have at any other time in my life, with the exception of that night with Brandon and the mess that followed after it. I can’t help being glad that Ethan got undressed first. If he hadn’t, if he’d been the fully clothed one watching me disrobe, I’m not sure I could have done it.
“Ready?” Ethan asks, once again holding out his hand. And once again, I take it. It’s not like I actually need his help climbing into the bathtub, but it’s nice to have it. More proof that I’m really not in this alone. After the last five years, it’s a good feeling. Surprising, unexpected, but good.
I settle in at one end of the tub, then watch as he climbs in and settles back against the other end. A little ball of stress I didn’t even know I’d been holding on to relaxes at the arrangement. I’d been afraid he would want to sit behind me, my back against his chest. I don’t know if I could have done that.
Ethan’s watching me, and again I feel like my thoughts are being broadcast across my forehead, because he chuckles a little. “Relax, Chloe. This is supposed to be fun. ”
“It is fun. ” I pick up a handful of bubbles and blow them at him, just to prove my point. Then I dissolve in a fit of giggles, because Ethan Frost looks hilarious with a clump of bubbles hanging off his perfect nose.
His eyes narrow at my hilarity, and the next thing I know, I’ve got a bubble mustache and beard dripping from my face. Not to mention two little horns on top of my head.
Determined not to be one-upped, I fashion a bubble flower—a daisy, or as close as I can get to one—and press it to the side of his head so that it looks like he’s got a flower stuck behind his ear.
I wait for him to retaliate, but instead of more bubble games, he grabs onto my foot and slowly presses his thumb to my insole.
An involuntary moan comes from deep in my throat and he laughs a little. But he doesn’t let up on the pressure. Instead, he rubs up and down the sole of my foot, pushing down on all the important pressure points. Then he spends a couple of minutes on my toes and heels before slipping his hands up my calf. He massages and kneads the muscles there until I can do nothing but lean back against the wall of the tub, eyes closed, and just enjoy.
Over and over he works up my calf and down my shin. Up and down, up and down, letting the hot water and the jets aid him in his quest to turn me into a quivering puddle of incoherency.
He does the same to my other foot and leg until I’m nearly insensate with pleasure. Then he drapes my foot over his shoulder and presses warm, sexy kisses to my ankle, my calf, the sensitive spot at the back of my knee.
I don’t even think to stop him. How can I when I barely have enough functioning brain cells left to remember my own name, let alone form actual words?
He moves to the other leg, kissing and licking and caressing his way from my ankle to my knee. Then, with a quick glance at my face that both excites me and somehow manages to break through my pleasure-drugged stupor to set me on edge, he skims his lips farther up my thigh.
“Chloe, baby, is this okay?” he asks, before nuzzling my inner thighs.
I nod, because how can I say no to something that feels so good? Something that I want so badly.
“Are you sure?” he asks again, even as his hands slide under my hips and lift me up to the surface of the water.
“Yes. Ethan, please. Please. ” The words falling out of my mouth don’t make any sense, but I don’t care. I’m so hot, so turned on, and his mouth is right there. Right there. All I have to do is arch a little and his lips will be on me, his tongue inside me.
“If at any time you want me to stop,” he says, “just tell me. ” And then he is there, his mouth on my sex. His fingers inside me. His tongue tracing along my slit until I’m a trembling, incoherent mess.
And it feels so good.
Like that time in his office, only better. Much, much better. Because here he can spread me wide open. Here he can play with me, tease me, torment me until all I can think of is him. All I can feel is him.
