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He dropped the soap into its bowl and threaded soapy fingers through the hair at her nape. ‘Are you sure?’ he murmured, reminding her of their first night.
She gasped as his thumb stroked the rapid beat of her pulse and his hand cradled the back of her neck. She braced wet palms against his chest. Water splashed onto the floor as she soaked the front of his shirt. She could see the dark shadow of his chest hair through the damp linen, feel the hard muscles beneath and her arms shook.
He simply laughed and pulled her easily to him as his lips covered hers.
He devoured her mouth, exploring with the strong, insistent strokes of his tongue. The heat geysered up from her core as her fingers curled into the wet fabric. She wanted to shove him away, she really did, but his tongue, his lips were making her light-headed, and every single nerve in her body was throbbing with need. He let her go abruptly and stood up. She could hear the pants of her own breathing, ragged against the melodious tones of the concerto, as she watched him strip off his shirt and kick off his shoes. He reached for his belt and suddenly sanity came flooding back.
What was she doing? What was she letting him do? She wasn’t his mistress. Maybe she wasn’t going to be able to resist him for long, but she would not be treated like some convenient sex toy—at his beck and call whenever he felt like it.
‘Stop it. We’re not making love,’ she said, but the words came out on a barely audible croak.
He glanced up, his hands stilling on his belt. ‘What was that, now?’
She shivered under the intensity of his gaze as he stared at her, sure she was about to catch fire. ‘We’re not making love until we’ve got a few things sorted out,’ she said, her arms clasped so tightly around her breasts she could hardly breathe.
‘What things?’ he said, sounding mildly interested.
She gulped, spotting the impressive erection tenting the loose pleats in the front of his trousers. The muscles in her thighs went liquid and her sex throbbed painfully, an instinctive reaction to the memory of how good he’d once felt inside her. It seemed absence had only made her more of a nymphomaniac.
‘I’m not your mistress. You may think I’m bought and paid for. But I’m not.’ She babbled to a stop. He was looking at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. ‘You don’t own me,’ she soldiered on regardless. ‘And I won’t be treated as if you do.’
He shrugged. ‘Right enough,’ he said, then pulled down his zipper. The crackle of the metal teeth unlocking drew her gaze down. ‘Move over. I’ve a mind to join you in the tub.’
‘I most certainly will…’ But her indignant reply backed up in her throat as his trousers and boxers dropped to the floor and her eyes fixed on his groin. Unfortunately, he hadn’t got any less beautiful, any less magnificent than the last time she’d seen him naked. Her whole body began to shake.
She gulped, her mouth bone-dry, and forced her eyes back to his face as he stepped into the tub. The sensual smile made it obvious he was very well aware of the effect his nakedness had on her.
He settled beside her, his big body making the water and her temperature rise. ‘Now, where were we?’ he said.
She lay transfixed by her raging hormones as he reached behind him for the soap.
She opened her mouth but no coherent sound came out as he lathered the soap then, nudging her arms to the side, placed his hands on her breasts. Her breath gushed out, sensation overwhelming her as he lifted the heavy orbs, his thumbs teasing swollen nipples. She arched up, closed her eyes, and groaned. Those demanding, purposeful fingers felt so good. She wanted him to touch her all over, everywhere. Her eyes jerked open, heat spiralling down to her core, when he captured her nipples and tugged.
‘This is such a bad idea,’ she whispered, swaying towards him and gripping his lean waist for balance as he continued to concentrate all his attention on her breasts.
He laughed, a raw, dominant chuckle that told her he knew exactly how good an idea her body thought it was. ‘I know,’ he rasped as she felt his erection nudge her thigh. ‘I left the damn condoms in the other room.’
She flattened one hand on his chest, felt the silky resilience of smooth flesh over bunched muscles and tried to find the will to stop him. But then his palm glided down her abdomen and found the swollen flesh of her sex under the water.
His fingers explored, brushing her clitoris with the tiniest of touches and she bucked against him, crying out. He sealed off her cries with a harsh, demanding kiss, dragging her against him with one arm as his other hand continued to play havoc, stroking and caressing, pressing her sweet spot and then retreating. Her hips moved in a siren’s rhythm, her fingers clutching at the back of his neck. He fastened his lips on the pulse in her throat, suckled as she threw her head back and gave herself up to the sensations exploding up from her core, only dimly aware of the water soaking the floor.
The orgasm roared through her, each wave pulsing over her body with greater intensity. The broken sobs of her release echoed as she collapsed against him, limp and shuddering, his embrace the only thing that was keeping her from sinking into the bath water and dr
owning.
She felt the insistent outline of his erection against her hip as his breath whispered across her ear lobe. ‘Let’s finish this in bed.’ The words had barely registered when he stood up, hefted her in his arms and stepped out of the tub, splashing water everywhere.
‘Put me down.’ She struggled, the serene moment of afterglow wiped out by acute embarrassment.
Why had she let him march in and take over like that? Why had she succumbed so easily? She was more at his mercy now than ever.
He set her on her feet and threw her a towel before grabbing one for himself. She wrapped it around herself. The drenched bathmat squelched beneath her feet and the remnants of his suit lay sodden on the marble tiles. ‘Look what you’ve done,’ she cried, knowing she wasn’t talking about the mess.
He smiled, rubbing the towel across his chest, the relaxed grin casting a seductive spell. ‘Don’t worry, I intend to do a lot more—and soon.’
Heat scorched her insides as she realised just how far out of control things had become. He threw his towel away, then covered the fists she had anchored on hers with one large palm. ‘Let go, angel. You don’t need it.’
‘I’m cold,’ she murmured as she trembled, but she knew she wasn’t.
