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“Go iron,” he said quietly. “Your bath will be ready when you’re done.”
Moved by all he was, she left him to handle her last burden of the day.
With the ironing done and Helen in her room sleeping on clean and freshly ironed sheets, Raven made the short walk back to the cottage. Night had fallen. The moon was out, and the songs of frogs and insects could be heard. When she reached the cottage, Brax was seated in the dark on the porch. Nearby, the embers of the fire he must have used to heat the water for her bath glowed dully.
His voice broke the silence. “Done?”
“Yes.”
“Your bath awaits. The water might be still quite warm, so be careful.”
“Did you save some water for yourself?”
“I’ll wash up out here at the pump. You go on in. Let me know when you’re done.”
She was so accustomed to taking care of everyone else, being pampered this way was overwhelming. “Okay.”
As soon as she entered the cottage, she smelled roses. Puzzled yet pleased, she walked to the bedroom by the light of the moon streaming through the small windows and into the bedroom where a lone lamp was lit. The sweet scent permeated the air. She had no guesses as to its source until she entered the washroom and ran her hand languidly through the warmth of the waiting tub water. Bringing her fingers to her nose, she realized the aroma was bath salts. But how? She hadn’t brought any with her from New Orleans. Was the kindhearted man outside responsible? Not wanting the water to cool further while she contemplated the mystery, she set her questions aside, undressed, and got in. The heat of the scented water was a balm after the long, chore-filled day, and she sighed pleasurably. It felt so good. That he had gone out of his way to offer her this gift put tears in her eyes. Wiping at them, she allowed herself a few moments to bask in the glory before picking up her bar of rose soap from where it waited atop a white towel on a little stool beside the tub. Still teary, she began washing away the day.
When she finished, she pulled the plug on the drain to the pipe that led the water outside and stepped out. Picking up the bath sheet—also new to her—she wrapped herself in it before slowlydrying herself. Padding out to the bedroom to get her nightgown, she stopped at the sight of a nightgown lying across the bed. Puzzled again because she’d never seen it before, she picked it up and studied it by the light of the lamp. The garment was soft blue and made of a polished lightweight cotton, perfect for the South’s warm nights. It wasn’t the fancy, designed-to-catch-a-man’s-eye type of nightwear favored by women like her cousin Lacie. It was serviceable, yet still feminine, with small, fluted, capped sleeves trimmed with a delicate line of lace that matched the lace at the neck. Small white buttons trailed down the front. Had he purchased this for her as well? Her own nightgown was old and faded from its many washings, with a side seam mended after being mangled by her mother’s ancient wringer. This one appeared brand-new, and she dashed away a fresh show of tears. After the wonderful bath, a new gown was fitting, so rather than let her pride rule and not accept it, she quickly treated her skin with the oil she’d brought from home and put it on.
When she glanced up from her seat on the edge of the mattress, he was standing in the doorway. He was shirtless above his trousers. “Do you like it?” he asked.
“I do. Thank you for the two hundredth time today. And for the bath salts.” The room still held the faint scent of roses.
“You’re welcome.”
He came into the light. His damp skin and hair showed he’d washed off the day as well, and she enjoyed this first, up-close look at his splendidly sculpted form.
“Are you ready for your kisses and touches?”
Her senses flared and heat shimmered between her thighs. “Yes.”
He came over and sat beside her on the bed. Reaching out, he gently raised her chin and she saw the fire in his gaze. “Then let’s begin...”
He started with a slow, lingering invitation of a kiss that was as masterful as it was seductive. His tongue teased hers and she answered with a mastery of her own. Each brush of his lips, each whisper against her ear of what he planned to do to her, and how, stoked the rising fire in her blood. His hands roamed, teasing, caressing, cajoling, and her soft gasps of passionate response rose in the silence. When he eased his mouth from hers, she was already on the edge of orgasm and she hadn’t even opened her gown. “Undo your buttons for me...”
Caught up in the familiar haze, she did her best to make her fingers work while he watched with glowing eyes.
He slid a fiery-tipped finger slowly down the path of bare skin, then pressed his lips there. “You smell like heaven,” he husked out.
Raven had never had a favorite scent before but knew she’d wear roses on her skin for the rest of her life because of him.
When the gown was fully opened, he pushed the halves aside and turned his magic on her unveiled breasts. She’d no idea how she came to be lying on her back with him above her, but it didn’t matter because the sensations of his wicked feasting overrode everything else. As he licked and nipped and plied her with his mouth and sizzling hands, her gasps soon became croons and tiny cries. He placed a kiss against her navel and drew a finger over the line of her hair, then trailed it down through the curls. When he brushed a touch against her clit, she groaned aloud and her hips rose for him. “Would you like my kisses here, little corvus?”
He gave her a glancing lick and she slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her shout.
“I need an answer, Raven.”
But in spite of that, he kept touching and teasing the tiny nub of flesh.
“Oh God, Braxton...”
He paused.
Unsure of what she’d done to make him stop, she met his eyes.
He smiled. “You do realize this is the first time you’ve ever used my given name.” Holding her eyes, he resumed his play. “Is this all I had to do...”
