by Cara Colter
What better way to spend it?
Because despite what Simon had said, she couldn’t bring herself to just hop into his bed.
She snooped under the cabinets, found an almost full bottle of shampoo and decided Simon must have rejected using it himself because it smelled too flowery.
She emptied a generous portion into the tub, which she filled with steaming water. While the tub filled, bubbles formed and the scent drifted through the room, she dimmed the lights, found two candles and a lighter and lit them. She also found a set of controls for a hidden sound system and turned on some soothing jazz; then she stripped off her clothes, laid them in the corner and climbed into the tub.
It felt heavenly.
The water and the bubbles came up to her chin when she sank down a bit, every tight, sore muscle in her body practically purring with pleasure in the steamy bathwater.
Audrey let her head fall back against the tub, closed her eyes and immediately saw Simon in her mind, watching her with those smoky eyes, saying he wanted her, saying how hard it had been to stay away. Telling her to be here in his bed waiting for him when he got home tonight.
There was something positively Victorian lord and master about it. Was she to do whatever he asked of her once he was in that bed, too? She suspected she would, if that’s what he wanted. Or would he be as generous as she knew he could be? And want only to use what she suspected were his enormous talents and experience in order to please her?
She shivered at the thought, shivered with pleasure, anticipation and need, thinking of his hands all over her, his mouth, his big, hard body, wishing he was here already, that first time done, her nerves, her doubts, her fears all gone.
She’d let herself have this time with him for as long as it lasted, and then she didn’t know what she’d do.
Simon talked to Peyton on her way home from her birthday party, hearing how excited and tired she was.
Perfect.
Then he called Ms. Bee, waiting for her to give him a lecture on letting any woman into his life again and maybe telling him he was a fool for letting it be Audrey. But he couldn’t very well have Audrey waltz into the house and into his bedroom and explain that to Ms. Bee herself. This was what he got for being more like a son than a boss to his housekeeper. He had to explain little things about his private life like this and hear her unsolicited opinion about it.
He made the call just after eight, saying only, “I have a guest coming over later. I told her to let herself in, in case you were already in your room.”
Ms. Bee laughed. “A guest?”
“Oh, hell, you’ll know by morning anyway. You’ll be watching for her to leave. It’s Audrey.”
He waited, ready for the lecture, the skepticism, the unsolicited advice. And got nothing.
“You can’t possibly have nothing to say,” Simon told her.
“I’m just surprised it took you this long,” Ms. Bee said. “Or have you been sneaking off to her bed at night without me knowing?”
“No, but I might be there tonight, if she won’t come to me.”
“Your bed is much more comfortable than hers. And much bigger. I furnished her apartment. I should know.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell her you said so. I’d much rather be in my own bed.”
“And we can hope you’ll be in a better mood afterward,” Ms Bee said.
Yes, we can hope.
Assuming Audrey hadn’t changed her mind.
He told Ms. Bee goodnight, then decided he couldn’t wait any longer and headed home. He made it in record time, pulled into the garage and thought for a minute at the odds of Audrey actually being in his bed, waiting for him. And that he could have had her there last night in the backseat of the limousine.
Simon sighed, shook his head, and then debated about looking for her in her apartment or heading straight for his room. He didn’t see a light on in either one and finally decided to be an optimist and start in his room.
The door was closed, definitely no light on in there.
He opened the door to find … a perfectly made bed, perfectly empty.
He threw his head back and just wanted to swear.
Fine.
He’d just have to convince her.
No more waiting or wanting.
He turned to storm out of the room, downstairs and into her apartment, then heard a sound from the bathroom.
Water rippled.
Hope soared.
He walked toward the faint light, into his bathroom, lit only with candles, and Audrey.
Chapter Fifteen
She was lying in his bathtub, covered mostly with bubbles, head leaned back, eyes closed, skin like ivory and beaded with moisture, the ends of her hair damp and following the curve of her delectable-looking neck.
He didn’t care how long he’d had to wait for her.
He was a damned lucky man.
“I have to say, this is even better than finding you waiting in my bed.”
She smiled but didn’t open her eyes until he walked all the way into the room and stood over her and the tub, finding the water a cloudy, pale pink, her body some combination of promise and illusion beneath it.
“You’re going to stand there and stare at me?” she asked.
“For a moment. Then I’m going to touch you.”
Her eyes widened, watching him as he slowly, methodically stripped off his clothes, never taking his eyes off her. Jacket, which he hooked on a towel rack, tie undone and on the hook with the jacket, shirt, unbuttoned, uncuffed and tossed across the clothes hamper in the corner. Shoes, socks, slacks. Her eyes came up to his as his slacks fell to his feet, this after she’d watched every move his hands made, unbuttoning, unbuckling and unzipping, something he found wildly erotic.
He couldn’t tell if he was making her more nervous or turning her on.
Not that his biker briefs left anything to the imagination at the moment.
He let them be, walking back into the dressing room with his shoes, socks and slacks, leaving the briefs on for now.
She didn’t turn around to find out.
Simon took a moment to consider exactly what he wanted to do with her first. Because he intended to get to everything he wanted and she wanted eventually. So really, this was just about priorities, daydreams he’d had for months, promises he’d made to himself about him and her.
“You haven’t washed your hair,” he said finally, returning to the bathroom.
“No,” she whispered. “I haven’t really washed anything ….”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that,” he said.
Even with her skin flushed from the heat, he could sense a different kind of heat coming into her cheeks.
Embarrassment and desire.
What a beautiful combination on her.
He knelt on the floor behind her, heard her quick, gulping breath, saw her shoulders tense.
“I think we’ll start with your hair,” he said, letting his fingers brush through her hair, drawing it back and away from her face, rewarded with a happy-sounding sigh from her.
He kept stroking her hair, digging deeply for a patience that didn’t come easily. Not after all these months. He’d have to remember to comb his fingers through her hair more often. She obviously liked it.
“Simon,” she began nervously, “I want you to know, that other man—”
“Audrey, I can’t think of anything I need to know about that.” Didn’t want to think about or be jealous about it, which was ridiculous given the fact that they hadn’t even met then. Still, he hated thinking of anyone else’s hands on her.
“Honestly, I don’t even remember much of it,” she said.
“Okay.” If she wanted to talk about it, they’d talk.
“And I’d never done anything like that before. I was faithful to my husband for all those years, and anything that happened with anyone before I met Richard was so long ago it feels like another lifetime now,” she said. “I just … I feel like
… I’m a little nervous.”
He kept stroking her hair, thinking that was probably the best thing he could do right now—move even more slowly than he’d planned.
He was ridiculously pleased by her admission, even though he still knew he had no right to be.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Of course, I do.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Then everything will be fine.”
He stroked her hair some more, then guided her to sit up a bit, then sink down into the water until her hair was immersed.
He made sure it was thoroughly saturated, then helped her back up. She curled against one side of the tub, and he found shampoo on the countertop, emptied a dab into his hand and then went to work lathering her hair.
This was one thing he’d never done for a woman, and he was surprised at how good it felt, rubbing her scalp, playing with her hair, pampering her in this small way.
She closed her eyes and made little, sexy sounds of pleasure, and he found himself thinking he might be able to ease all the tension in her body just by working with her hair this way.
“That feels so good,” she said, her voice low and sexy.
He felt it deep in his belly, tingling, tightening desire.
“Okay,” he said. “Now, rinse.”
When that was done, she leaned back against the tub, the way he’d found her, her back to him from where he was.
Shy, my Audrey?
Okay.
He could deal with that.
Simon settled himself in behind her and the tub, deciding he was going to be there for a while. He reached out with only one finger and traced the side of her face; then he kissed her temple, her soft, warm cheek and then her collarbone, which had teased him so the night before in that sexy, little dress of hers.
She gasped, shivered, but let him do what he wanted.
He decided her neck had to be next, just because she had a beautiful neck and he was betting it was so sensitive. He wanted her begging him before he took her, shivering, moaning, grabbing at him, pulling him to her, demanding that he come to her and take her.
Yes, the neck.
He could feel the heat of the water on his face, the sweet smell all around him and her, just waiting for him and whatever he decided to do.
He put a hand on both her shoulders, skin on pretty, soft skin, finally. Found a bar of soap, soaped up his hands and started to wash her, her shoulders, all the way down one arm, to her hands, and then back up again, taking his time, wanting to be very thorough and cover every bit of skin he found.
She watched him wash her, and he decided he liked it. That he wanted her watching him later, watching everything he did to her.
Simon got more soap, moved across her delicate collarbone, teased that little triangle at the base of her throat with his tongue and then he just couldn’t wait any longer.
He had to have her breasts, sliding his hands down into the water, the sliding sensation of the soap and the water and the weight of her breasts making him ache, setting his whole body to throbbing.
She started breathing hard. Her breasts seemed to swell in his hands. He guided her to sit up just a bit more so that her breasts were out of the water. Then he got more soap on his hands and, reaching around her, started soaping along her rib cage, her belly.
She moved restlessly then, her breath coming in gasps.
He couldn’t wait much longer.
It had been too long.
He bent his head over one of her shoulders, teasing at her nipples with his tongue, then sucked hard.
She cried out, then tried to muffle those cries. Her hand came up and out of the water, grabbing his hair, and he couldn’t tell if she was trying to hold his mouth there to her exquisite body or if the sensation was too much for her and she was trying to push him away.
“What do you want, Audrey? Tell me.”
“You,” she whispered.
And then he let one of his hands slip between her legs. He had to hold her up with his other arm then, or maybe he was holding her still.
It didn’t matter, because he had her, whimpering, crying out, sobbing. “Simon, please. Please.”
And then she was gone, her body going all tense, holding there on the edge, holding. He kept her there for as long as he could by varying the pressure of his fingers and his mouth, still at her breast.
And then she tumbled over, her whole body convulsing.
He could feel the power of it in the hand between her legs, feel the heat, the throbbing there.
He let himself have her mouth then, trying to both soothe and arouse.
“There you go. It’s all right. I’ve got you. You’re mine now.”
He wished he could have let her come down from that first climax and then start arousing her all over again as slowly and patiently as he had the first time. He’d planned to start by washing her toes and working his way up. But his patience was done.
He disentangled himself from her, grabbed a bath towel from the rack behind him and held it open wide in front of him, then watched as she rose from the tub, gloriously naked. Slightly pink, soft skin, water running off of it in rivulets, pink-tipped breasts, nipples hard and making him want them in his mouth again. All those pretty curves, those dark, serious eyes of her watching him.
He folded the towel around her, then lifted her out of the tub and set her down to stand on the bathroom rug. From somewhere, he found the patience to dry her himself, taking a moment to pause only long enough to drop a kiss on her belly, nuzzle the triangle of dark curls between her legs.
“Oh, Simon,” she said, her voice all breathy and low, her hand in his hair again. “I don’t think I can stand up on my own for another minute from what you’ve already done to me. And this … this would make it impossible. Not that I don’t want you to, it’s just …”
He thought about laying her down on the rug and doing more than that, but his bed was only a few feet away, and more than anything, he wanted to get into it and not leave it for a long, long time.
So he lifted her into his arms and took her to his bed.
He meant to wait.
Honestly, he did.
But the feel of her, naked as the day she was born, against him, was too much.
He rolled her over onto her back, her legs parting easily, finding her wet and ready for him, grabbing a condom from the nightstand a moment later than he should have, and then settled himself on top of her, looking down into her eyes, watching him.
“Do that,” he said. “Please. Watch me. Let me watch you.”
And then he pushed, as slowly as he could make himself go, deep inside of her.
Her pupils flared as the first bit of him made its way inside her. She started to breathe in these quick, short bursts, her breasts nestled against this chest, hands clutching him to her.
She was wonderfully tight and wet but still yielding easily to him, raising her hips to take him even deeper, her inner muscles tightening to hold him there. So strong, those beautiful thighs of hers toned to perfection by miles of running.
Her body deep inside gripped his.
It was exquisite.
Maddening.
He dipped his head, touching his forehead to hers. “I want you to know that I haven’t done this since the first day you walked into my life and told me what a fool I’d been with the dog. So forgive me if this doesn’t last. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
“No one?” she asked. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t want anyone but you,” he said, then took her mouth again, all patience, all restraint gone.
He surged into her, then rocked back, tried to make it last with quick, shallow, little thrusts, but she wouldn’t have any of that, her body coming up to meet his, demanding more.
He tried to be as still as he could while he was deep inside of her.
No way.
Her body was throbbing around his, clamping down, letting go, clamping down again. It felt so good.
And then, he was gone, clutching her to him as tightly as he could, thrusting deep into her and just giving up, letting go, his face buried against her neck.
“Audrey.”
This was Audrey.
She was his.
No more denying it.
No more waiting.
Just his.
He felt every shudder that moved through his body, felt an answering response in hers. She cried out, whimpered, maybe even cried. He couldn’t tell for sure because the whole thing just felt so good and blocked most everything else out.
He lay heavily on top of her longer than he should have, still buried deep inside of her. Little aftershocks rocked through her body, making him remember exactly how good it had felt.
Mind-blowing, he decided, exhausted and spent.
Somehow he found the strength to roll to his side and went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom, then was back in the bed, reaching for her, pulling her to him and settling her in his arms.
“Tell me you don’t regret this,” he whispered, steeling himself to hear that maybe she did.
“No. I couldn’t.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.” He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to his. “I know you have doubts. I know you’re worried about what all this means for us. We’ll deal with it. All of it. Tomorrow’s soon enough, all right.”
She nodded.
“Stay with me? Peyton doesn’t get up until eight-thirty or nine. I’ll call and make sure you’re up and out of here before then, all right?”
“Okay.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
He finally had her here, where he wanted her, in his bed, silky, bare limbs entwined with his, her breasts pressed against his chest, her head on his shoulder. He was utterly exhausted and as relaxed and happy as a man could be.
Now he just had to figure out how to keep her here.
Audrey dozed, stretched out on her belly, her body pleasantly warm and heavy and relaxed, imagining someone stroking her leisurely with a hot, heavy hand. Stroking her bottom in little circles, soothing the long muscles of her back, combing through her hair.
She remembered his touch in her hair.
Simon and the bath.
