still trying to hug her knees to her chest. Her eyes met his and she felt a rush of embarrassment again, but though his smile was amused, it was also curiously tender. “I’ve been with you naked before,” he reminded her, his tone now definitely wicked, challenging.
She closed her eyes. The steam was very warm. Thewine had indeed taken away the edge. She sank farther into the water, her head resting back on the rim. His lips touched her throat. Skimmed along it, the tip of his tongue slick at the cleft at the center of her collarbone. Her fingers curled around the rim of the tub again. She felt absurdly lethargic in one way while her heart raced in another. His hand was in the tub. He’d found the sponge within it. Water dripped over her knees. The clean scent of soap filled her senses along with his touch, gentle, lulling …
erotic
. The sponge moved against her. Along her calf, her thigh. Her belly, her breasts. And once again his lips were against her throat. She couldn’t seem to find the strength to move or to protest.…
Or to reach out in return.
His kiss moved up her throat now, touched upon her lips once again, tasting, savoring. A light touch, a slow, fluid movement of his tongue. She didn’t even notice when he dropped the sponge, yet felt the graze of his fingers upon her once again. Touching her cheek, brushing it so tenderly in that tantalizing kiss. He raised his lips from hers. A sudden coldness descended upon her and she vaguely wondered why.
And then she knew.
He was naked, and she was in his arms, the steaming bathwater dripping down them both. All the things that had fascinated her before were now hers to touch. The gleaming bronze muscles of his chest were taut and slick, the thick mat of hair was coarse, teasing her flesh. She clung to his shoulder, her arms slipping around his neck. Her eyes met his and there were some very different gleams in the ebony depths now, and she knew that it had come full time to be his wife.
She shivered suddenly, violently, not repelled by him,but frightened a little just the same.
What had she imagined this night to be?
She didn’t know. She had been running too long.
Never this intimacy with a stranger
.
But she had married the stranger, and oddly enough, he did not seem so terribly strange anymore, indeed, she already knew him better than she had known any man before.
He felt her shivering, and cradled her more tightly against him. He carried her the few steps to the bunk and held her against his length with one hand while he wrenched the covers free from the bunk to lay her upon the whiteness of the sheets. Her eyes locked with his as he crawled over her. She looked down over the bronzed breadth of his shoulders, the dark matted expanse of his chest. His waist was lean and tight. And below that …
Her breath caught and her gaze rose back to his. The shivering that had begun in her became a rampant trembling.
He watched her with an amused expression, yet one that was tender still, setting his fingers into the wealth of her hair to spread the tendrils out upon the pillow.
“You are, my mystery love, extremely beautiful,” he told her very softly. His voice was husky and rich still, lulling, yet something more. So seductive. She no longer shivered because of the cold. She trembled now because of the staggering warmth that touched and pervaded her.
She moistened her lips and whispered in turn, “Worth three hundred dollars?” The words carried only a hint of mockery against herself.
His lips curled into a sensuous smile, and he leaned low against her, just brushing her mouth with the breath of a kiss. “Worth a million dollars,” he told her.
The warmth of the sun seemed to explode within her. Her lashes fluttered over her eyes.
“I’m afraid not!” she murmured very softly.
“I will judge.”
“But I don’t—”
“You don’t need to.”
Those were the last of his words. He fell to her side, sweeping her into his arms. What
She closed her eyes. The steam was very warm. Thewine had indeed taken away the edge. She sank farther into the water, her head resting back on the rim. His lips touched her throat. Skimmed along it, the tip of his tongue slick at the cleft at the center of her collarbone. Her fingers curled around the rim of the tub again. She felt absurdly lethargic in one way while her heart raced in another. His hand was in the tub. He’d found the sponge within it. Water dripped over her knees. The clean scent of soap filled her senses along with his touch, gentle, lulling …
erotic
. The sponge moved against her. Along her calf, her thigh. Her belly, her breasts. And once again his lips were against her throat. She couldn’t seem to find the strength to move or to protest.…
Or to reach out in return.
His kiss moved up her throat now, touched upon her lips once again, tasting, savoring. A light touch, a slow, fluid movement of his tongue. She didn’t even notice when he dropped the sponge, yet felt the graze of his fingers upon her once again. Touching her cheek, brushing it so tenderly in that tantalizing kiss. He raised his lips from hers. A sudden coldness descended upon her and she vaguely wondered why.
And then she knew.
He was naked, and she was in his arms, the steaming bathwater dripping down them both. All the things that had fascinated her before were now hers to touch. The gleaming bronze muscles of his chest were taut and slick, the thick mat of hair was coarse, teasing her flesh. She clung to his shoulder, her arms slipping around his neck. Her eyes met his and there were some very different gleams in the ebony depths now, and she knew that it had come full time to be his wife.
She shivered suddenly, violently, not repelled by him,but frightened a little just the same.
What had she imagined this night to be?
She didn’t know. She had been running too long.
Never this intimacy with a stranger
.
But she had married the stranger, and oddly enough, he did not seem so terribly strange anymore, indeed, she already knew him better than she had known any man before.
He felt her shivering, and cradled her more tightly against him. He carried her the few steps to the bunk and held her against his length with one hand while he wrenched the covers free from the bunk to lay her upon the whiteness of the sheets. Her eyes locked with his as he crawled over her. She looked down over the bronzed breadth of his shoulders, the dark matted expanse of his chest. His waist was lean and tight. And below that …
Her breath caught and her gaze rose back to his. The shivering that had begun in her became a rampant trembling.
He watched her with an amused expression, yet one that was tender still, setting his fingers into the wealth of her hair to spread the tendrils out upon the pillow.
“You are, my mystery love, extremely beautiful,” he told her very softly. His voice was husky and rich still, lulling, yet something more. So seductive. She no longer shivered because of the cold. She trembled now because of the staggering warmth that touched and pervaded her.
She moistened her lips and whispered in turn, “Worth three hundred dollars?” The words carried only a hint of mockery against herself.
His lips curled into a sensuous smile, and he leaned low against her, just brushing her mouth with the breath of a kiss. “Worth a million dollars,” he told her.
The warmth of the sun seemed to explode within her. Her lashes fluttered over her eyes.
“I’m afraid not!” she murmured very softly.
“I will judge.”
“But I don’t—”
“You don’t need to.”
Those were the last of his words. He fell to her side, sweeping her into his arms. What
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