“That,” he drawled, “is an understatement.” But he turned around, so that his back was to her.
Warily and reluctantly, Mared swam to the edge of the pool. When she found footing, she tried to cover herself with her arms. It was no use—there was nothing she could do to keep the garment from clinging to her or revealing her flesh through the wet fabric. She was, for all intents and purposes, completely exposed to him.
Yet still, she might have salvaged her pride if only he hadn’t turned round just then. He was smiling, enjoying her embarrassment…but his smile faded when he saw her, and his gaze turned so intent that a strange little shiver jolted her.
Without modesty, he openly looked at her, his gaze leisurely taking her in, skimming down her chest, across which her arms were tightly folded, to her hips and the dark patch of hair between her legs that shone through the wet garment. Then down her legs, all the way down to the very tips of her toes and back.
She could do nothing but stand there and endure his attention, for Payton stood between her and the rest of her clothing. The more he looked, the deeper the shivers ran inside of her.
When at last Payton lifted his gaze to hers, she could see and feel the strength of his desire emanating from him, radiating toward her. And she could also feel her body’s response to the look of his desire, rising up in her, flooding her limbs. The sheer intensity of it made her panic—she didn’t know what to do with it, how to react. “M-my clothes,” she stammered.
“Tie yer chemise,” he said quietly. His voice had gone rough; Mared glanced down and realized that her chemise, heavy with water, was hanging so low on her frame that her bosom was all but exposed. She looked up at him; his eyes went to the outline of her breasts and hardened nipples beneath the wet chemise. Mared grabbed the ends of the strings that pulled the fabric together, but her hands were so cold she could not tie it.
She struggled with it until Payton’s hand covered hers. “No!” she said frantically, knowing instinctively that if he touched her, something would happen. “I can do it.”
Payton ignored her; he easily pushed her hands aside and took the strings in his hands. He took a step closer to her and made a lazy loop of one. Mared lost her will to fight and dropped her arms, watching him tie her chemise as if he’d done it a thousand times before. He moved closer again and languidly looped the other string around the first.
When he tied the bow, she risked a look at him and inwardly flinched at the power of his smoldering gaze. It mesmerized her, intimidated her. Payton put his hands on her shoulders, casually pushed wet hair over her shoulder. And then he let his hands slide down her arms, over the thin straps of her chemise, to her hands, his touch light and reverent, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
She was feeling things inside her that astounded her, parts of her igniting that she had never felt before. She bit her lip as his hands moved to her waist, then deliberately slid his palms up to her breasts and over them, turning his hands so that his knuckles glided over her collarbone, then turning them again to caress her breasts and nipples. And then moving again, around her back, slowly down to her hips, and around, to the swell of flesh at the apex of her legs.
His hands stopped there; he lifted his gaze and looked her in the eye as he cupped the swell with one hand. With his other hand, he gathered the material of her chemise, pulling it up, giving it slack, and slipping a finger between her legs, lightly touching her in a way that made Mared believe she might actually faint.
She gasped, drawing a ragged breath. The feeling was so exquisite that she turned her head to one side and closed her eyes, her body focused entirely on his hand and finger and the wild burst of sensual pleasure that had suddenly erupted in her. He pressed a hand against the small of her back and pushed her into his body. His mouth skimmed her forehead and her temple while his finger slid deeper and deeper into the folds of flesh between her legs, rubbing gently. He moved his mouth down her cheek, to her lips, gliding over them so lightly that they tingled with the whisper of his kiss, then returning again to kiss her delicately, his mouth as careful and light as his finger.
Mared’s pulse was beating so hard that she could not seem to catch her breath; she sighed into his mouth. Payton pressed against her as he cupped her chin with his hand, turning her head slightly and kissing her so delicately that she could feel herself sliding fast down a long slope into something soft and warm and utterly explosive.