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I bathed before the final competition, one that didn’t require any exertion. And though I’m eager to scrub away the touch of the various fae who took my hand in theirs as part of their odd fae handshake after my victory, it’s not the reason I bite my bottom lip at the idea of sliding into that tub.
It’s time to make good on my promise. Almost.
“You know,” I say, giving Sigurd a meaningful look. “Maybe I could use a bath after all.”
Chapter 35
Sigurdgoesstill,eyeswide, as I pull my shirt over my head and toss it away. The instant effect I have on him draws a grin to my lips, particularly as I kick off my boots and shed my pants. Clad only in delightfully comfortable fae underthings that leaves little to the imagination, I stride across the room to join him.
He rakes a hand down his face. “So easily you undo me.”
That’s the idea. The cool air of the room tickles my flushed skin as I halt in front of him. The warmth from the tub at my side tempts me, urging me to sink into it, but it’s less appealing than the man in front of me who looks like he might devour me at any moment.
But he hasn’t touched me. A pity.
I trail my hand down his chest, savoring the way his muscles go rigid beneath his clothes. “I thought you liked me filthy?”
His chest rumbles under my touch, something akin to a groan slipping from his lips. “I like you however you are.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to spoil things by taking advantage of the bath.” I turn and give him my back. “A little help?”
I don’t actually need his help undoing the barely-there clasp that holds this bra in place, but I want him to undress me. I want to feel his hands on my skin. I squirm in anticipation, holding my breath, before he finally rewards me with the touch I crave, sending a delicious sigh throughout my body.
Sigurd is absolutely silent as he works. I can’t even hear him breathe. I don’t dare look back at him for fear of disrupting the delicious tingling low in my core or, worse, igniting an inferno that makes things spiral out of control too fast.
I want him, but I want to linger in this moment, to enjoy this thing that’s as much a victory as winning the competition.
My heart gives a little jolt as the clasp pops free, and then he’s moving the straps down my arms, taking his time coasting his palms along my bare skin.
When the bra falls to the floor, I finally turn.
The bright glow of his eyes makes my knees go weak. They’re a tell, stronger than anything else, how much he’s affected by this simple touch.
“A little help with the rest?” I glance down then back up at him.
Sigurd rewards me with a devastating grin. “My champion is needy this evening.”
At first, I think the comment a dismissal, until he drops to one knee. He glances up at me, and the sight of a king on his knees, staring at me like I’m his world, has me gripping the edge of the tub for support. I gasp as he leans in, placing a kiss on my stomach. His hair tickles my skin, the sensation so much more intense than it should be. Another kiss follows the first, this one right on the hem of my underthings.
“Sigurd.” I gasp his name, my free hand slipping through his hair.
Just when I think he might rip them off with his teeth, he pulls back and stares up at me once more. His gaze never leaves mine as he grips my underwear and tugs it down. His hot breaths ghost across my skin, but he doesn’t look at the sight he slowly reveals, just my face—just me.
I step out of my underwear on shaking legs, unsure of what comes next. I had planned to bathe, truly, or at least enjoy the warm water, but all I really want right now is to peel his clothes off and lead him to the bed.
Before I can give in to that temptation, I step into the tub, intentionally baring myself to him in the process.
Sigurd growls as he rises to loom above me where I sink into the almost too-hot water.
The water is clear. He can see everything. But I don’t bother to shield myself from view or pull my hair around me. Instead, I blink innocently up at him.
“There’s plenty of room for two.” In fact, the tub feels oddly empty with just me.
“Now, who would turn down that invitation?” He sheds his clothing one piece at a time, giving me a show that I eagerly drink in. Every inch of skin he reveals increases my need. It’s so tempting to ask him to hurry it up already, but I hold myself still, admiring the view. The scars on his body entice me, and I can’t wait to trace them once he joins me.
I’ve seen him bared to me before, taken him in my mouth and savored each ridge and line of his body. Even so, my throat goes dry as he sheds the last of his clothes.
He’s glorious, a work of art, and I will never tire of this sight.
