Page 39 of Truly, Madly, Daring

Oh, that was a discouraging tone.

“I’m sorry, pet.”

She snorted, which was even less encouraging, but still made him smile. “I imagine you are.”

“It’s me that’s doing the imagining,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I’m driving myself to distraction by picturing everything you’re doing.”

The sloshing stopped and Rex waited, every fibre of his being tuned to the woman in the bath.

“And what are you imagining?” she asked, and there was a breathless quality to the question that gave him hope.

“The way the hot water has given your body a rosy flush, the way your lovely skin must glisten in the candlelight, and—” Rex cleared his throat as his pulse accelerated. “—and your hands smoothing the soap over your body, your breasts.”

“Perhaps you have clairvoyant tendencies,” she remarked lightly.

He swallowed. “You’re doing it now?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice little more than a whisper. “What else should I do, my lord?”

Rex felt suddenly giddy with longing, but he kept his head, sucking in a breath to steady himself. “Soap your arms, from wrist to shoulder and back again.”

He sat up on the bed, listening as he pictured her doing just as he had instructed.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Are you quite sure you have washed your breasts thoroughly?” he asked, unable to keep the smile from his voice.

“Quite sure,” she replied, momentarily dashing his hopes until she added, “But one can never be too clean.”

Rex sat up, moving so he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, one hand on the post at the end of the bed, imagining the slide of her hands over the soft mounds, the way the soap would make the skin slippery, her touch making her nipples grow taut. He swallowed.

“There,” she said. “All clean. What now?”

“Your stomach,” he said, aware the quality of his voice was becoming strained, not to mention his trousers where his arousal pressed hopefully against the fabric, eager for her attention. “And then down, down to that sweet little patch of curls between your legs, the place where I put my mouth on you.”

He smiled as he heard her breath catch.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” There was a long pause, and he imagined the blush that stained her cheeks, the effort it would take her to speak her desires out loud. “Emmeline? Or was I mistaken?”

She sighed. “You know very well you were not.”

“Then you liked it?”

“Yes,” she said, enunciating the word carefully.

Wrexham grinned.

“Tell me you liked it.”

“I just did!” she objected.

He tsked, shaking his head. “No, no. Tell me properly. You promised to obey me in all things, did you not?”

“I’m still cross with you,” she muttered.

“I know, and with good reason, but I will make it up to you, and that is a promise.”

“Yes, I liked it,” she said, sounding a little impatient.