should have been appalled, but drifted back to sleep without bothering to worry about it.
Her next sensation was of coolness as the covers were drawn away, and then strong arms gathering her up easily. She loved that, being carried by him, and murmured her pleasure. The next thing she knew, she was immersed in warm bathwater just the right temperature with bubbles up to her chin. She opened her eyes and stared at what little she could see of herself, vaguely aware that he had bundled her thick hair behind her head so that it formed a comfortable cushion on the rim of the tub.
This resort hotel supplied numerous amenities for its guests, including bubble bath for the deep, oval tubs that were the essence of comfort. Erin was comfortable—and slightly bemused.
There were several lights in the bathroom; he had turned on only one so that the illumination was soft rather than sharp. She looked up at Keith as he knelt by the tub, searching for words in the haze of contentment and finally settling for, "Why am I here?"
His mouth curved in a slight smile, though his eyes remained darkened and intent. "You may not feel it now, but you will in the morning. Any new—activity—uses muscles you didn't know you had."
Erin stretched out her legs and winced slightly as the muscles of her thighs twinged. "You could be right," she admitted, recalling her childhood days on horseback, when a ride after months out of the saddle had left her stiff and sore.
That thought led to another along the same lines, as she remembered a favorite theory of one of her teachers. He had maintained that the attraction of adolescent girls for horses had a sexual base. Many of the muscles used in riding were the same ones exercised by sexual activity, and the symbolism of gripping a powerful animal between the legs, he said, was rather obvious. It was a "safe" outlet for sensations and emotions with which an immature mind hadn't learned to cope.
After hearing that, Erin had stayed away from her horse for weeks, feeling ridiculously guilty about her affection for him. Him! She would have had to own a gelding! She wondered, now, how many of her classmates had been as unnecessarily upset as she'd been. That teacher had either been thoughtless or perversely cruel to have put those ideas into the minds of young girls, so many of whom had owned horses.
"Is the water too hot?" Keith asked.
She could feel the heat in her face. "No, it's just right."
"Then you're blushing. Why?"
Erin eyed him, and decided to keep her memories to herself. "I haven't been put into a bath since I was seven. And never when I was sound asleep." He had told her he couldn't promise he'd be kind, but this was kind, she thought.
His smile remained, and he seemed to hesitate before he said dryly, "If I'd lain there any longer and watched you sleep, you would have had even more reason for aching muscles in the morning."
Accustomed to graceful compliments and flowery words, Erin found his bluntness curiously refreshing. And she wasn't at all embarrassed by it.
"You watched me sleep?" she ventured, far more disturbed by that.
Keith nodded, but didn't elaborate. Instead, he reached out and down, finding her lower thigh beneath the bubbles and beginning to gently massage it. Erin had experienced the expert touch of a masseur in some of the finest spas in Europe, but nothing compared to the melting, boneless sensation that swept over her as Keith's fingers slowly kneaded her muscles. She actually wanted to whimper out loud with the pleasure of it.
Her eyelids grew heavy as weariness vanished, and between her lashes she stared at his arm, starkly bronze against the white bubbles. The heat of the water was seeping into all her other muscles, and both his hands were on her thighs now, massaging slowly and deeply. She was turning to jelly. Quivering jelly, because the touch of his hands was as sensual as it was relaxing.
Her veiled gaze moved up over his forearms, lingered on the
Her next sensation was of coolness as the covers were drawn away, and then strong arms gathering her up easily. She loved that, being carried by him, and murmured her pleasure. The next thing she knew, she was immersed in warm bathwater just the right temperature with bubbles up to her chin. She opened her eyes and stared at what little she could see of herself, vaguely aware that he had bundled her thick hair behind her head so that it formed a comfortable cushion on the rim of the tub.
This resort hotel supplied numerous amenities for its guests, including bubble bath for the deep, oval tubs that were the essence of comfort. Erin was comfortable—and slightly bemused.
There were several lights in the bathroom; he had turned on only one so that the illumination was soft rather than sharp. She looked up at Keith as he knelt by the tub, searching for words in the haze of contentment and finally settling for, "Why am I here?"
His mouth curved in a slight smile, though his eyes remained darkened and intent. "You may not feel it now, but you will in the morning. Any new—activity—uses muscles you didn't know you had."
Erin stretched out her legs and winced slightly as the muscles of her thighs twinged. "You could be right," she admitted, recalling her childhood days on horseback, when a ride after months out of the saddle had left her stiff and sore.
That thought led to another along the same lines, as she remembered a favorite theory of one of her teachers. He had maintained that the attraction of adolescent girls for horses had a sexual base. Many of the muscles used in riding were the same ones exercised by sexual activity, and the symbolism of gripping a powerful animal between the legs, he said, was rather obvious. It was a "safe" outlet for sensations and emotions with which an immature mind hadn't learned to cope.
After hearing that, Erin had stayed away from her horse for weeks, feeling ridiculously guilty about her affection for him. Him! She would have had to own a gelding! She wondered, now, how many of her classmates had been as unnecessarily upset as she'd been. That teacher had either been thoughtless or perversely cruel to have put those ideas into the minds of young girls, so many of whom had owned horses.
"Is the water too hot?" Keith asked.
She could feel the heat in her face. "No, it's just right."
"Then you're blushing. Why?"
Erin eyed him, and decided to keep her memories to herself. "I haven't been put into a bath since I was seven. And never when I was sound asleep." He had told her he couldn't promise he'd be kind, but this was kind, she thought.
His smile remained, and he seemed to hesitate before he said dryly, "If I'd lain there any longer and watched you sleep, you would have had even more reason for aching muscles in the morning."
Accustomed to graceful compliments and flowery words, Erin found his bluntness curiously refreshing. And she wasn't at all embarrassed by it.
"You watched me sleep?" she ventured, far more disturbed by that.
Keith nodded, but didn't elaborate. Instead, he reached out and down, finding her lower thigh beneath the bubbles and beginning to gently massage it. Erin had experienced the expert touch of a masseur in some of the finest spas in Europe, but nothing compared to the melting, boneless sensation that swept over her as Keith's fingers slowly kneaded her muscles. She actually wanted to whimper out loud with the pleasure of it.
Her eyelids grew heavy as weariness vanished, and between her lashes she stared at his arm, starkly bronze against the white bubbles. The heat of the water was seeping into all her other muscles, and both his hands were on her thighs now, massaging slowly and deeply. She was turning to jelly. Quivering jelly, because the touch of his hands was as sensual as it was relaxing.
Her veiled gaze moved up over his forearms, lingered on the
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