They moved to her neck and he nuzzled her there. A thrill scuttled through her and she leaned into the caresses. She was so besotted by this tender exploration, she barely noticed that he had slipped the fabric from her shoulders and her dress fell to the floor.
She still wore a chemise, but it was hardly anything. He quickly, matter-of-factly, divested her of this as well. And then he turned her.
At which point, she closed her eyes.
She couldn’t face him.
The warm, fragrant gush of his breath bathed her. “Ah. Tildy.”
She peeped at him. His expression slayed her. Hunger, want, raging desire. It stoked an ember blazing in her belly. He wanted her. Tremendously.
His hand shook as he lifted it, and then, when he cupped her breast, he sighed again. As did she. His touch was achingly gentle, yet teasing as well. It left her wanting more.
Which he gave her, scudding his thumb over her erect nipple.
She was not prepared for the sudden shaft of pleasure that took her. Her eyes flew open wide and he looked up. Their gazes locked.
He smiled. It was a crooked offering and adorable. “Do you like that?” he asked in a whisper, as though this moment were too reverent for more.
“I do.”
“Excellent.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Why is it excellent?”
“Because, my dear, it speaks to your passion.”
“My passion?”
“Yes. Because this is only the beginning of the pleasure I will show you. I love that your body is so responsive to me.” He nodded to the tub, as though he were somehow suddenly impatient. “Ready?”
She was. In many ways. But she decided to follow his lead. It had been quite pleasant so far.
He held her hand as she stepped into the tub and then, as the hot water encased her, she lost all focus on anything but the utter delight dancing on her skin. Her groan was heartfelt and echoed in the tiled chamber.
He chuckled. “Nice?”
“Oh yes.” So far, she quite liked lovemaking.
But then she had no idea what he had in mind for her.
He picked up a cloth and made a fine lather with the soap. “Close your eyes,” he said and she frowned. Suddenly, she didn’t want to. She wanted to watch. “Go on.”
With a huff, she did. She leaned back in the water, reveling in the lovely waves her movement made, and tried to relax.
She jumped with the first touch of the cloth, though it was on her neck.
“Hush,” he murmured. “Hush.”
He meticulously washed her neck and arms, rinsing her just as carefully. But then, when she was lured into a dreamy peace, he set the cloth to her breasts. Nothing lurid or claiming, but her eyes bolted open.
He smiled at her and then, holding her attention, he brought the cloth up and over her nipple. An exquisite sensation wracked her. Her jaw dropped and she clutched at his arm. He glanced at the wet spot she’d made and laughed. “Perhaps I should remove my shirt as well.”
She nearly swallowed her tongue.
And then she stared as he removed his shirt, revealing an astounding chest—muscled and brown and rippling with texture. She could not resist a touch. A caress. She painted him with a wet trail.
“I like that,” he said.
“So do I.” She laid her palm flat and dragged it over his fine form. “Are all men so beautiful?”
He snorted a laugh. “I daresay they are not. Now, lean back and relax so I can finish bathing you before I lose my mind.”
She shot him a curious glance, but he did not answer her unspoken question. So she complied. She’d liked very much what he had done so far and was curious about what came next. And—
Oh good glory!
He swept the cloth over her belly—a rather ineffective attempt at cleaning her—and brought it to that spot between her legs. It took every effort for her not to whip her thighs together, and she was glad she did not when the cloth scraped against the nub throbbing there.
She’d had no idea, no clue that something so simple could be so utterly exquisite.
She moaned and arched into his touch. She forgot to keep her eyes closed so she saw it, the expression on his face. The muscles of his face tightened. He swallowed heavily. His gaze bored into hers.
“Does this please you, my mistress?” he asked, a play on his earlier suggestion that he be her servant.
“Oh yes.” The words clogged her throat. She had to force them out.
He touched her again…this time without the cloth abandoning all attempts at pretense. With two fingertips, he circled her, massaged her, all the while watching for her response.
It was feral.
Tildy had never known such joy and now that she’d tasted it, she only wanted more.
But Dev was a tease. He played with her, increasing the pressure until she was a tight ball of nerves, and then moving away, to caress her elsewhere until she calmed. In fact, he nearly drove her mad.
It was frustrating, because she knew she wanted, needed more, but she had no idea what it was.
So she punished him.
She clutched at his arm and dug her nails in, encouraging him, demanding that he do whatever it was she yearned for.
He leaned farther over the lip of the tub as he worked. His expression firmed. He focused furiously.
“Dev,” she wailed. “Dev.”
“Yes, Tildy?”