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“Me too.” I cupped her chin and drew her back to me, guiding her face so that she would take in her surroundings. “Right now, my challenge is to make you forget tonight ever happened.”
“Mirrors,” she said shakily, blowing out another breath that made her curls shiver. “The tiles are reflective.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I kissed the side of her throat and wished I had some of the lavender scent she must slather on her skin. I wanted to be the one to rub it in, to hear her sighs of pleasure as I eased out the kinks in her muscles. “If you just take a quick glance, you don’t notice them. But they make it hard to hide from yourself.” I drew my tongue along the underside of her jaw, where her scent was the strongest. “Or to hide from me.”
“That goes both ways you know.” She dug her nails into the back of my hand on her stomach and leaned back her head to give me more access. “If I’m to be on display, you will be too.”
“We’ll both be focused on you.” I drew my fingertips down the valley between her breasts, barely making contact with her skin. She fought off a tremble and pushed away from me, then turned to pin me with a probing look.
“How many?” she asked, her voice low and breathy. Scarcely audible over the water flowing into the tub. “How many women have you had in this bathroom, naked in front of the tiles?”
It was an easy number to tabulate. “One.”
She startled, reaching behind her to grip the edge of the counter. “Oh yeah? Just one? And what was she like? Some kind of pampered princess?”
“I think she might’ve been, in another life. Pampered at least. She comes from money. The kind I couldn’t imagine having growing up. Forget a silver spoon. Hers is platinum. But a princess?” I pretended to consider. “No, not her. She’s far too resourceful and cunning and intelligent to be called that.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed, the blue receding. “Yeah? If she’s so fucking awesome, then why isn’t she here?”
Maybe it was how long I took to answer, or perhaps she’d finally allowed the pieces to snap together in her mind. She flushed and reached up to grip her throat. “It’s not me,” she muttered. “I’m not cunning. Not even close. And I don’t believe for a second that you haven’t had any other women here but me.”
I moved closer. Not touching, but almost. “Don’t you?” I asked quietly.
“Why?” she demanded. “Why would you invite me here if there hasn’t been anyone else? Do you think I’m going to shatter? The poor little former rich girl, now homeless and left begging—”
“You aren’t begging yet.” I gripped her chin and tugged her face up to mine, drawing her up on her tiptoes. “But you will.”
I expected her to push me away again. That was our dance. She pushed me away, I came back. I shoved her away, she moved in. We circled each other like boxers in a ring, but her weapon wasn’t her fists. It was her vulnerable sea-tinged eyes, and the freckles that resembled cinnamon sprinkled on snow on her shoulders, and the way her fingers curled around my wrist where I cupped her chin as if she needed something to hold onto.
Tonight, she would hold onto me. And maybe for once, I’d hold back.
She brought her lips to mine, and it wasn’t a kiss so much as a command. If I intended to make her beg, she didn’t intend to beg alone. Her mouth rubbed over mine, wet and soft, her vanilla flavored gloss clinging to my lips even as she retreated. I licked at her taste before I fisted a hand in her hair and dragged her right back, feasting on her like the delicacy she was. She was fire and fun and warmth and life. I’d had none of those things for so long that I was starving. I couldn’t get enough. My teeth sawed into her lip and she made a sound, but it damn sure wasn’t distress. She was already moaning, swaying against me, into me, as I chased the pleasure that swelled between us like a flame igniting in the dark. Burning away all the shadows. Hers, mine.
Together, we became something else entirely.
Her breasts pressed into my chest and I reached down to grab a handful of her ass. Her flesh filled my hand perfectly. I was halfway to depositing her on the counter when I remembered we’d already played this scene once before. Not again. She deserved more than a fuck on a dingy bathroom sink, whether that was at work or in my house. I might not be able to offer her more than sex, but I could damn well make that good for her. More than just a rub-and-grind.
“In the tub,” I rasped against her mouth, nearly groaning as her tongue flicked against the seam of my lips. She wasn’t shy about asking for entrance, and I could deny her nothing.
If she realized that, I’d be sunk.
“You want in my bubbles?” she teased me between kisses, her hands roaming like mine were. She finished undoing the buttons of my shirt and slipped her hands under the fabric, unleashing the groan I’d swallowed. She had calluses and scars on her hands from her glass work, and the feeling of them scraping against my flesh were painfully arousing. My cock jerked in my trousers and she noticed, darting a glance at the bulge below my waist. She smirked. “Guess you want in more than bubbles, huh?”
“I want in anywhere you’ll have me.” It just so happened my hand was still on her ass. And maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that I squeezed, hard, my fingers easing close to the tight pucker between her cheeks.
Her pupils flared, her expression so wary that I had to laugh.
“Get in the tub, Ms. Copeland.”
Three
Grace slipped under the surface of the water, submerging herself under a mass of ocean-scented bubbles. I knew exactly where the bottle of bubble bath had come from. Some well-meaning person had given it to me as a housewarming present, claiming I needed to relax. Apparently bubble baths were what I was supposed to be doing to achieve that state.
Or else I could just cup my hard-on through my pants and watch Grace slide lower until only her nose, lively summer sky-colored eyes and precariously balanced bun of golden curls remained above the froth.
When I went to undo the snap of my pants, she tilted her head, sending another curl flying away from the rest. Though it dipped between her eyes, she paid it no mind. Her focus was all on my hand, slipping the zipper lower. I removed my shoes and socks, then shucked my pants and boxers. I would’ve done the same with my shirt, but she shook her head.
“Leave it on.”
