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I jutted my chin up. “No.”
Like a modest little girl, I took off my leggings first. The sweater I wore was long enough to cover my assets.
He stalked toward me. My heartbeat accelerated.
“Need some help?”
I balled my fists at my sides so as not to touch him. “How are you tan in the winter anyway?” The sentence came out far more breathy than I intended.
“Are you just now noticing?”
“Have you been strutting around half naked in hopes of tempting me?”
“Is it working?”
“How long should I wait before I tell you the tub is about to overflow?”
He whipped his head around. “Was that a joke?” A smile tugged at his lips.
“Did it sound like one?”
“That’s it, Wicked.” He swept me off my feet. I squealed and flailed as he put me in the tub.
“You’ve ruined my sweater.”
“Should’ve stripped faster.” He pushed his jeans off his hips and didn’t seem embarrassed in the least by the erection straining his boxer-briefs.
I looked away, trying to forget how he’d felt inside me. Too hot, I took off my sweater and tossed it at him. He caught it and hung it over the shower door. I shimmied out of my panties and stripped off my camisole and bra, throwing the garments at him in quick succession.
My bra hit him in the face. His eyes were riveted to me. I glanced down to find my tight nipples above the surface. Quickly, I sank down in the water.
I swallowed hard when his fingers dipped below the waistband of his underwear. Held my breath as they fell around his ankles. Was it even possible for a man to be this beautiful?
I dropped beneath the surface. When I came up for air, he stood at the edge of the tub.
“Is it too late for bubbles?”
“Are you afraid to get in with me?”
“Anxious much?”
I flicked water onto him. It beaded on his stomach and rolled down the tight muscles.
He climbed in and sat opposite me. Once settled, he picked up my foot, massaging the pad.
“I should call somebody. Let them know where we are.” His fingers took away the sting of pain that jarred my chest when I realized I had no one to tell. My family hated me.
“I spoke to your father. They’re under strict instructions not to disturb us unless it’s an emergency.”
“How pathetic is it thatyoucan talk to my father and I can’t?”
“You can. You just aren’t.”
I fanned my fingers across the water, staring at the ripples. “Am I really that awful?”
Heat seeped into my skin. That in combination with the way Patrick worked my feet had me more relaxed than I could remember since the last time he’d worn me out.
“Sometimes.” He kneaded my calves, and I moaned. “It’s odd, isn’t it? How we fight most with our family when we’re supposed to support one another.”
