Deciding to give up on sleep, she fetched her purse from the top of her dresser, and carried her toiletries and makeup to the bathroom. She arranged everything on the countertops meticulously, then hitched her leg up on a chair and began shaving her legs, taking ten times as long as she normally would for such a tedious task. But still, hours remained until she needed to be ready for the party. She turned around to rest her bottom on the counter and looked at the tub.
It had been years since she’d soaked in a bath. Years since she’d had one available. She pushed herself to stand from the pristine white counter and walked over to run her fingers along the cool porcelain edge. Her apartment back in LA didn’t have a bathtub, and the idea of soaking her muscles sounded heavenly. She turned on the faucet and let the tub fill halfway with water before adding a scoop of bath crystals that were graciously provided on a silver bath tray.
Fragrant lavender and lemon filled the bathroom, and on impulse, she fetched her bag off the counter and pulled out her phone to send a message to Tristan.
Mona: Are you alone?
It was a simple message, well meaning and straight to the point… And not five seconds later, her phone rang and she slid open the call.
“Where are you?” he asked with a husky flirtation.
She sat on the edge of the bathtub, smiling as she tested the temperature with her fingers. “My room.”
“That’s a shame, you should be in mine.”
She grinned, letting her bath robe slip down her shoulders then fall softly to the floor. “I’m about to get in the bath,” she said. Tingles traveled down her body simply from the admission. She felt naughty, sexy, and she wished she could see his face.
“Where’s your room?” he asked then. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”
She only smiled and put one foot in the water. “You can’t. Renee’s room is just across the hall. It’s too risky.”
He groaned. “I like risks.”
She laughed and lowered her body farther. “Well I don’t, and I’m the only one who knows my room number.”
He was quiet a moment, and she could almost see him smiling. “Touché, little one.”
She grinned and leaned back, resting her neck in the built-in pillow. “Little one?” she asked, her nose wrinkling at the pet name.
“It’s only fact.”
She nodded, letting her body relax. “So what did you do today? Anything for the wedding?”
“Eh, this and that. Mostly hung out with Phin and his family. And thought about you in that dress.”
She grinned. “Did you like it?”
“I did.”
“Good,” she said, leaning forward to turn off the water. The bath was completely full at this point, so she tightened the handles, then leaned back in her spot. The water must have made a splashing sound, because the line became incredibly quiet.
“Are you in the bathtub, Samantha?” There was a thread of humor in his voice, but she could hear it going deeper too.
She wrinkled her nose, then bit her finger as a rush of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered.
He made an obvious clearing of his throat and spoke again. “Are you naked?”
She laughed, because what kind of question was that? “Of course I’m naked. What kind of baths do you take?”
He laughed then, and she could almost see him throwing his head back. “No no no… We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”
“Okay then. Yes. I’m very much naked.” She was grinning ear-to-ear, feeling giddy and silly all at the same time.
“Are there bubbles?”
She laughed “Yes.” She bit her lip. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m trying to visualize you, and every detail helps.”
“Oh yeah? How am I looking?”
“Hot. Really hot.”
She bit her lip, loving the playful tone of his voice. She leaned her head back, realizing she loved talking to him so much. She loved—everything about him. She sunk a little deeper in the water and whisked up a pile of bubbles with her fingers. “And where are you, Mr. Montgomery?”
“In bed,” he stated. There was a seductive tone to his voice, but he didn’t elaborate. Which left her mind running with possibilities. With naughty thoughts of what he could be doing there.
The line went silent again, and soon she sat forward wanting to ask where he went. But before the words crossed her lips, his rich sexy baritone came through the receiver again. “Grab the soap, Samantha.”
She smiled, shocked by the request, and glanced toward the small box of soap sitting on the side of the tub before leaning back again. “I’m not grabbing the soap,” she said firmly, but she couldn’t quite contain her grin.
“Why? Do you not like soap?”
“No.” She laughed. “I just know what you want me to do and I’m not about to do it.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m not having phone sex with you, Tristan,” she whispered, grinning ear to ear.
“I didn’t ask you for phone sex. I asked you to grab the soap.”
“Why do I feel ‘soap’ is the code word for phone sex?”
He laughed. “Because you’re a prude?”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “I’m not a prude, I—”
But before she could finish her sentence, he cut her off. “Then grab the soap, Samantha.”
She narrowed her eyes, because there was no denying the blatant “I dare you” in his request. She bit her bottom lip again, begrudgingly leaning forward to grab the little box. “Fine. You win.”
“Good,” he said in a cocky voice. “I like winning.”
She smiled again, and slid the soap from its silver housing. “Well I like cocky men, so I guess we’re both winners.”
He laughed again, but only for a second, because the mood had suddenly changed to something more serious. She slipped the soap under the water, getting it good and wet before she spoke again. “Now that I have the soap, sir, what do you want me to do with it?”
He groaned, and she sunk deeper still, letting her head loll back until the tops of her breasts were all that could be seen above the water. But she could feel herself getting aroused, even though he hadn’t touched her at all. Even though he hadn’t even looked at her.
“Rub it between your fingers, Samantha. Squeeze it, until a thick white foam builds between your hands.”
She did as he said, manipulating the soap and building the suds between her fingers, until they were slick.
He paused for a second, and she could hear his breath getting heavier. “Now place your hands at the top your knees. At the very top, where you have that one little freckle on the left side. Do you see it?”
She glanced down, placing her hands on the spot he spoke about—but she was choking up inside, because she was sure he was the only person in the world who knew about it. “Okay,” she whispered. “It’s there.” How in two days had he memorized her so well? How in a matter of days could she love him this much?
“Now slide your hands down, slowly,” he whispered. “Imagine my hands with yours, sliding the slick soap all the way down your thighs, until our fingers tangle in the hair between them, until we feel how wet you are.” He paused for a long moment, and she could hear him breathing. “Are you wet, Samantha?”
Her body shuddered, and her stomach constricted as she touched herself. “Oh God, Tristan.”
“Answer me.”
She nodded. “Yes.”