Lifting her leg, she ran the soap over it to form a trail of suds along its length. She put the soap aside on its tray, then worked her fingers against her skin, enjoying the slippery feel of the lather beneath them.
A faint sound stilled her as she cocked her head to listen. It came again, a small careful creaking of wood. Turning her head, she bit down on her lip as she watched the door ease open, firm fingers gripped around its frame. Her eyes rose along a sturdy form clad in a gray velvet robe until they settled upon a familiar face. “May I come in?” Francis asked with a small degree of uncertainty that warmed her heart.
She nodded in response. The amount of relief that showed upon his face eased the tightening in her belly. He was just as nervous as she, it seemed, though her nod had apparently renewed his confidence. He had closed the door firmly behind him, leaned against it now, and allowed his eyes to linger upon her for a long, unending moment.
She shifted uneasily beneath his gaze, suddenly intensely aware of her nudity. The water offered some comfort, though he could easily make out the shape of her br**sts beneath it. “Will you let me attend to you?” His voice was soft with a hint of raw desperation. Again she nodded, this time dismayed by the flicker of light that filled his eyes.
Her bare alabaster shoulders were like a glowing beacon of light at the end of a dark tunnel. They tempted him with their perfection, forcing him to move forward until he stood as close as he could without entering the bath himself.
Such beauty was the stuff of only legends. Yet here she lay, bare before his eyes, his very own nymph.
One of her feet protruded from the water. His eyes flew to it in reflex as she wriggled her toes. Quick heat rose in the pit of his stomach as his gaze followed the arch of it down into the water. His belly contracted at the sight of the pink, shimmering flesh that could only be that of her thighs. Dear God, she’s stunning, he thought as the heat curled into a fiery ball that, as it burst, sent blazing heat down into his groin. There it stiffened before becoming an undulant pulse filled with ravenous hunger.
Soon she would be his, but not just yet. He meant to move slowly tonight, savoring every touch and each response, intent on prolonging her pleasure to the verge of torment. Quieting his own needs, he settled down beside her to the sound of short breaths that quivered upon her lips.
He dipped his fingertips in the water, then dragged them down the side of her neck in a moist line to the rise of her collarbone.
She tensed with anticipation below his touch, her skin prickling as new waves of heat darted across it. “Relax, and close your eyes,” she heard him say in a muted voice that sent frissons scattering down her back. His breath was warm against the curve of her jaw, his lips momentarily brushing against the lobe of her ear—so close that her heart started hammering forcefully against her chest.
Doing his bidding, she closed her eyes against the candles that flickered around her, then leaned back against the tub, letting out a deep sigh of gratitude. For a moment she remained thus, caught in a world of dark comfort that lapped against her from every angle, her mind easing into a lull as she settled into deep relaxation.
Her breath caught when she felt the gentle touch of his fingertips slide across her chest, followed by the soft feel of his cheek as he leaned his head against hers. Supple hands skimmed the top of her br**sts as they surfaced and dove, bobbing just below the surface. He wrapped one arm around the other side of her, locking her in his embrace, silky hairs tickling her skin, and she realized that he must have shrugged out of his robe.
Knowing that he was in all likelihood just as nak*d as she stirred a tingling within her that rolled and swam through her body, dipping and diving, until it finally settled between her thighs.
She inadvertently whimpered as his fingers circled her n**ples, her back arched to the deep throaty hum of his voice as he teased them until they perked. Casting back her head, eyes still closed, her back flexed like a bow to meet his caresses, so that her br**sts climbed out of the water, shedding water as they rose.
His hand drifted down the length of her breastbone, then further still, to her belly. There was a splash of water as one of her legs lifted, her heel coming to rest against the edge of the tub. She knew what she wanted, he saw—with great satisfaction—as he watched her body succumb to her more carnal instincts. “That’s it,” he whispered, his breath a gentle breeze against her burning flesh.
Waves of heat coursed through her veins, exploding in tremulous bursts beneath his fingertips as he explored her further. A quickening pulse beat like a drum within her womb, spreading waves of pleasure to her groin. Why was he tormenting her so? She was more than ready to feel his touch between her legs, was on the verge of begging for it, when she finally felt his fingers stroke against her. “Oh God,” she murmured as her body ignited in a blaze of flames.
His touch deepened, her sounds of passion spurring him on as he felt his own manhood tighten and stretch at the thrill of the pleasure that he stirred in her. “That’s the way,” he muttered against her cheek as one of his fingers slid inside her. “Let me show you.” And he pushed yet another finger inside as she gasped and shuddered in response.
The fire within her built, higher and higher, consuming her so fiercely that she thought she was sure to combust. It mattered not, however. Nothing mattered at that very moment—nothing save the exquisite bliss that washed over her. Tension expanded in every sinew, taking her to such staggering heights that she knew release must come soon. She hoped and prayed for it, for if it did not, then she felt she would surely die. And then it came, in waves of shudders as she cried out, expelling the pressure that now had turned to thrilling bursts of light exploding behind her eyes.
“Come, let me dry you off,” he told her a while later as she sagged against the back of the tub, lulling in the wake of the storm. “There’s much more that I intend to show you.”
She never would have guessed that passion could be rekindled so quickly—she’d thought herself spent, but the hunger in his voice flooded her senses with renewed vigor. Rising, she stood before him, allowing his eyes to feast upon her every curve. Sparks of light flashed behind his eyes, the corners of his mouth drawn up into a greedy smile.
With great care, he dried her arms, her chest, and her legs until her skin glowed with the freshness that followed a hot bath. Tilting her head toward him, his mouth closed over hers in a soft and tender kiss. “I love you, Emily,” he whispered as he hugged her against him. “I love you so very much.”
Her heart expanded with boundless joy at those words. “Oh, Francis, I love you, too.” He drew back, his eyes searching hers, imparting everything he felt for her in that single gaze. Then his lips were on her again, more urgent than before, parting so his tongue could brush against hers. She yielded instantly, swaying against him as their tongues became one in a hot, wet mixture of erotic passion that knew no bounds. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her into the bedroom and settled her carefully on the bed.
Candles flickered all around, casting dancing shadows across the walls in a blend of yellow hues that mingled with the darkness. Emily cast a look at Francis. Her breath caught as her eyes fell upon broad shoulders and tightly coiled muscles rippling down his arms. His chest was firm, his belly lean, and . . . God almighty . . . she sucked in her breath as her eyes took in his manhood, thick and erect—a clear indication of his need. He was magnificent—a fine specimen of masculinity, indeed.
Heat flushed her face as she raised her gaze to meet his, a sudden shyness at her own brazenness leaving rosy patches upon her cheeks. He must have noticed, for he raised an eyebrow and granted her a mischievous grin. “Don’t be ashamed of yourself, Emily. Nothing stirs my blood more than to be regarded in that way. The fact that you want me is plain enough in your eyes, and it excites me, as you can see.”
“I’m sorry,” she blustered. “It’s just that . . . well . . . I feel like a wanton, and some of the things we’ve done seem so . . . indecent. I don’t want you to think less of me.”
“Sweetheart . . . nothing that you and I do together in the privacy of our bedroom will ever cause me to think less of you.” He gave her a cheeky smile before adding, “And as far as indecency is concerned—you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Then show me,” she told him in a husky voice that quickly wiped the smile off his face, replacing it with something far more . . . indecent, so to speak. Her eyes clouded with a sudden need to join with him, to feel the strength and vitality of his body against hers. Reaching out, she took his hand in hers and drew him toward her. “You’re right, you know,” she murmured as he sank down between her legs. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before in my life.”
His eyes held hers fast as everything narrowed around them until it was just the two of them caught in a heated moment. “Dear God, woman, you drive me mad with desire.”
Before she could form a response, his tongue was licking at her belly, lips kissing, and teeth nibbling. She gasped at every touch, her nerves so raw, her skin so sensitized. When his mouth crept lower, she clamped her legs together without thinking, so mortified at the prospect of what he intended. “Do not deny me this pleasure, Emily,” he implored, his voice so needy that she trembled at the sound of it. “I mean to taste every part of you, and I promise that you will enjoy this very, very much indeed.”
Heat surged as he carefully parted her legs with his hands, spreading her wide, then kneeled between them. Staring down at her, he looked for what felt like an eternity to her. But she could not dismiss the way his eyes gleamed like those of a pirate who’d just stumbled upon a vast treasure. Mesmerized, she watched as he licked his lips, then bent his head and . . . good God. She felt the warm velvety touch of his tongue slide over that moist part of her, and she thought she must have died and gone to heaven.
Parting the soft folds of flesh that guarded her entrance, he passed his tongue over her in long and lingering licks that sent butterflies soaring through her belly. Over and over until she feared she might explode. He then delved deeper until her rich fragrance surrounded his senses and she knew that he’d been right. She did enjoy this very, very much indeed—wanton that she was. A deep hum of satisfaction caught in his throat as he eased away. Looking up, he saw the muddled look of complete fulfillment mixed with utter disappointment, clearly visible upon her face. He grinned, rising over her and brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face. “I think you’re ready now, Emily,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her. “What do you think?”
Her voice quivered as she spoke. “I think I’ll dissolve and fade away if you don’t take me this instant, Francis.”
“I must warn you, sweetheart, there’s bound to be a little pain when I . . .”
“Stop talking, Francis, just please . . . for the love of God, please . . .” The rest of the words would not seem to form, but he understood without any shadow of a doubt the urgency of her plea, for it was as fiery as his own.