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nine
Without another word, Nicholas undresses me and then sweeps me off my feet. He holds me tightly to his chest while kissing any inch of exposed skin he can. Peppers kisses from the crown of my head and down my cheek where I turn my face and our lips meet.
I’m addicted to his taste.
This kiss is languid and soft. My lips part for him without prompting, letting our tongues meet and caress. There’s no need for either to fight for dominance—we just enjoy.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Mila,” he groans against my bottom lip, the same one he loves to bite at every turn. “So soft and petite. A curvaceous doll that I can manipulate to my liking.”
“You make me feel as if I’m the most important thing in your world.”
“Because you are.” The sincerity rings clear in his answer, and my entire being vibrates with pure, unadulterated happiness. “And you’re mine. All mine.”
“Yours.”
Slowly and with care, he lowers me into the tub. The water is perfect, the scent of strawberry and cream surrounding me in a soft blanket just above the water line. It covers my nakedness: he can’t see how my nipples pebble or my stomach clenches in anticipation of his touch.
And yet, I’ve never felt more exposed and sexier. Knowing that he could take me—touch me as he wants—is thrilling. Excites me, and the proof is on my thighs. A wetness that has nothing to do with the water.
Nick kneels at the side of the tub, bringing the bottle of champagne and a flute with him. With ease, he turns to the side and pops the cork, causing a small squeal to leave me. The pampering, the man smiling at me, and the love I’m feeling right now has me drunk on happiness.
This right here is more than I could’ve ever hoped for. I feel as if I’m living a fairy tale. Like my life has become a bestselling romance novel.
“Thank you,” leaves me on a whisper.
Nick nods and pours me a glass of the bubbly. “Never thank me for treating my woman like a queen. To me, you are that and so much more.”
He offers me the glass and I accept, but instead of taking a sip, I offer it to him. Leaning over, I place the rim to his lips and tip the flute just a bit.
His smile is indulgent as he drinks, and I take the opportunity to have a few drops roll down his chin. I’m on him in a second, sitting up on my knees and licking the few drops.
“Delicious,” I moan, a low and throaty sound as the sweetness of the champagne and his unique taste explodes in my mouth. “A perfect combination.”
“Fuck, baby.” His hands snake around me, holding me to the edge of the tub while they wander lower, down my back and over my ass, grabbing a handful in each hand. “Drink for me.”
“I’d rather have you.”
“You will...” he releases one cheek and brings the glass in my hand to my mouth “...but much, much later. After I’ve had my fill, I’ll let you play. Taste what is yours.”
Tipping my head back, I drink what’s left in the glass. He places the glass down beside him on the floor and grabs the washcloth that I failed to notice near the ornate faucet.
I’m following his every move as he dips it in the water and brings it up to my neck, swiping down and over the top of my breasts.
“Sit back for me, Mimi. Let me bathe you.”
“No.” I shake my head, pushing him back, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, his hand tightens—fingers digging into my flesh.
“No?” You can see the emotions flitter across his face. There’s confusion, surprise, and a willingness to stop everything if I say so. God, I love him.
“No. Not until you get in with me.”
A smirk blooms and a brow raises. “Is that so?”
“Yeah.” I arch my back, pushing my chest out in invitation—enticing him to join me. I’m working with limited space, but it’s just enough to expose myself.
The bubbles slide down, revealing more of me. He licks his lips, eyes on each stiff peak while the hand with a firm hold on me dips a little lower. The tips of his fingers sweep over my back entrance, and it feels good.
The low whimper that leaves me surprises me.
