by Cindy Dees
“Right. Don’t overthink.” She reached for his belt buckle, and he let her. In a hurry to get it over with, was she? Well, she was in for a surprise, then. He planned to take most of the night doing this.
As she reached hurriedly for his shirt buttons, he captured her hands. “Easy, baby. Slow down. Relax and enjoy the moment.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t say as I’ve ever found sex relaxing.”
He responded, “Note to self—end the night with slow, lazy sex. To show Chloe how relaxing sex can be.”
Her eyes widened and darkened. She liked that idea, did she? He grinned to himself. Good to know. There was hope for her, yet. “So, Chloe. We still have a whole lot on your list of fantasies from Denver to get through. Any preferences?”
Her cheeks bloomed scarlet. “You choose,” she mumbled.
Perfect. What he had planned for tonight wasn’t on her list at all. “Into the bathroom, then,” he announced matter-of-factly.
She frowned, obviously going through her list and trying to figure out which one involved the restroom. Her frown deepened and alarm bloomed in her gaze. Excellent. She was already outside her comfort zone.
“Why the bathroom?” she asked cautiously.
He merely took her hand and led her, half-resisting, into the small, subway-tiled space. Without releasing her hand, he plugged the big, claw-foot tub and turned on the hot water full blast. He poured in a generous dollop of bubble bath the B and B had thoughtfully provided, and the room filled with the smell of raspberries and vanilla. Mounds of fluffy bubbles formed, and the water steamed. Tendrils of fine hair curled around Chloe’s face, framing it sweetly. He added just enough cold water to make the bath bearable.
“In you go,” he announced cheerfully as he rolled up his sleeves.
“Are you coming in with me?” she asked doubtfully.
“Nope. I’m designated back scrubber, tonight. Besides, I’d take up the whole tub. This treat’s just for you.” He perched a hip on the edge of the tub, which put her lovely breasts at eye level for him. He drank in the view eagerly as her nipples abruptly tightened into tense little peaks. Good. He wanted her hyperaware of her body before this was all said and done. It was high time she got out of her head and acknowledged her most basic bodily urges.
He leaned over to the shelf above the sink and grabbed the big, plastic hair clip she’d put there. Reaching around behind her, which brought his mouth into entirely pleasing proximity with her chest, he twisted her hair up and off her neck, securing it with the clawed clip.
She would have stepped back, but he kept his hands behind her neck, trapping her in place. Leisurely, he took a rosy peak into his mouth, rolling his tongue around the little bud and scraping his teeth lightly across it until she exhaled on a light moan. Only then did his hands fall away from the back of her neck. She didn’t step back. Chalk up a win in the first skirmish to him.
He gestured for her to climb into her bath, but she hesitated. He reached for her thong, using it to tug her between his knees. Hooking his thumbs under the hip straps, he whisked it off her body. She curled in on herself, embarrassed by her nakedness.
“You’re so damned beautiful,” he breathed. “Someday, I’ll have you painted in the nude.”
She stared, dismayed. “And where would you hang the resulting painting?”
“In my bedroom, of course. In a place of honor by the bed you sleep in.”
Her eyes popped wide open in shock. Frankly, he was a little shocked himself to realize he was thinking in terms of years down the road with her. At least his comment had the effect of distracting her from her lack of clothing. That was, until he leaned forward and kissed her belly. An urge to plant his child within her, to watch this part of her swell with the miracle of life about knocked him off the edge of the tub. Whoa. Not ready for kids, yet. Hell, he didn’t even know if their genetics were compatible enough to have kids. He had to give her credit. Chloe did a hell of a number on his head. Damn. Skirmish number two to her.
“Into the tub, darlin’,” he directed. He held her hand as she climbed over the high edge and her leg disappeared into the bubbles.
She sank down into the steaming water by slow degrees. He’d made it as hot as he thought she could stand because she needed the tension relief badly. Eventually, she sat immersed to her neck in bubbles. He folded a towel and she leaned her head back against it.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed.
“Mmm. With pleasure,” she murmured.
He went out into the main room to prepare for the next part of his assault while she soaked her bones to the consistency of cooked spaghetti and her muscles to gelatin. When he was satisfied with his work, he returned to the bathroom. The mirror was fogged over, and the tropical humidity plastered his shirt to him in a matter of seconds. He solved that problem by shedding it and dumping it on the floor.
Chloe’s eyes remained closed as he moved to the head of the tub and reached through the diminishing suds for her shoulders. Gently, he kneaded the slender muscles. If she’d been boneless before, she melted now. He moved around to the other end of the tub and reached into the hot water for her left leg. Starting at her knee, he massaged his way down her slim calf to her toes and back up again. He gave the same treatment to her other leg. She groaned in lazy pleasure and he reveled in the sound.
The bubbles were breaking into little white islands on the surface of the water that afforded him glimpses of her rosy body here and there. He would never forget her in this moment, his own private sea nymph.
“I think my fingers have turned into prunes,” she murmured.
He plunged his forearm into the water and pulled the drain plug out of the water. She stood up and he reached for the shower head on its flexible hose. He rinsed the remaining bubbles off her and reveled in how she looked, standing there. Quickly, so she wouldn’t chill and lose the languid relaxation of her bath, he wrapped her in a fluffy bath sheet that enveloped her entire body. When she was cocooned in soft terry cloth, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the other room.
“Oh, Trent,” she breathed.
He glanced around at the dozens of candles casting a soft glow through the space. The B and B owner’s wife had even provided an armful of roses from her garden for the occasion. A dozen of the most stunning roses stood in a vase on the table. He had scattered the petals from the rest across the bed and floor in a splash of reds, pinks and whites. The heady perfume filled his nose, nearly as intoxicating as the woman in his arms.
He put her on her feet and slowly unwrapped her like his own personal gift. He smudged off the remaining moisture from her skin and released her hair from its clip. It fell in a glorious shimmer of silk across her breasts. The candlelight kissed her skin with gold. This was exactly how he wanted her painted.
He picked up his nymph and laid her down gently on the bed of roses. As he stepped back to admire the effect of her sleek limbs and pale skin against the brilliant shades of the rose petals, he revised his opinion. This was how he wanted her painted.
Her hands drifted up to cover her private places, and he stepped forward to capture them with his hands. Holding both of her slender wrists in one fist, he lifted her arms over her head, which had the most excellent side effect of thrusting her breasts up toward him. He leaned down to feather kisses across the tempting mounds until she arched up into his mouth of her own volition.
“Are you going to tie me up?” she whispered breathily.
He lifted his head to stare down at her. “I have a better idea. Take hold of the headboard here.” He guided her fingers around two of the turned spindles. “If you let go, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing. But as long as you hold on, I’ll keep going.”
Confusion flickered in her gaze, but she nodded her agreement readily enough. Mentally, he smiled darkly. She had no idea how that promise was going to come back to bite her. He would use her own passion against her. It would restrain her a hundred times more effectively
than any rope.
He trailed his fingertips down her arms, and she wriggled as he approached her ticklish ribs. She let go of the spindles and he yanked his hands away from her. Immediately, she grabbed the headboard again. He took up where he’d left off, stroking his fingertips beneath her breasts, circling the mounds lightly. Without warning, he flicked his thumbnails across both of her nipples and she arched up sharply on a gasp of startled pleasure.
He resumed his leisurely trailing of fingertips across her skin. And so it went. He touched her lightly, interspersing the lightest of massages with occasional reminders of just how sensually charged her body was becoming. The rosy glow of the bath on her skin was replaced by a rosier glow of desire.
She sang him a veritable symphony of sighs, moans and groans of wordless pleasure as he explored her body. In Denver, they’d been driven so hard by their desire that they’d never really slowed down for him to learn her body thoroughly. But tonight, he rectified that oversight. He found her ticklish places, the sensitive spots, the areas that made her fists flex on the spindles in frustration.
And when he finished exploring with his hands, he started all over again with his mouth. As soon as she figured out what he was about, she groaned aloud. “I can’t take this, Trent. You’re killing me.”
He replied against her hip, “Then let go of the headboard.”
Her only answer was a thick groan. He smiled against her satin flesh. Ahh, she was beginning to learn the nature of the warfare he waged against her. Time to scale the next wall: her self-consciousness.
He rose up over her and reached for her ankles. Until now, her legs had been pressed tightly together, and he’d let her have her modesty. She made a sound of protest as he pushed her knees apart far enough for him to kneel between them. But when his mouth closed over her big toe and his tongue darted between her toes, the sound of protest turned into a groan of approval. He nipped the pad of her toe and scraped his teeth across the arch of her foot until she squirmed, giggling. But, he noted with approval, she didn’t let go of the headboard.
He gave the same treatment to her other foot. Her breathing became short and fast as she discovered the erogenous connection between her feet and her nether regions. He had a sneaking suspicion his nymph was going to develop a bit of a foot fetish before this night was over.
When she was panting hard, he nipped his way up to the back of her knee and laved the soft flesh there with his tongue. She twisted and turned beneath him as the sensations in other parts of her built to a fever pitch.
By the time he finished with her other knee, she started to beg. “Enough, Trent. No more. It’s too much. I can’t...”
And yet, she continued to grip the headboard as if her life depended on it. Granting her no quarter, he nipped and licked his way up the inside of her thigh. She was openly thrashing now, flinging her limbs wide and unintentionally giving him ready access to his ultimate target.
His mouth closed on her swollen, hot flesh and she all but came off the bed. Careful not to touch any part of her except the heaving, trembling flesh beneath his tongue, he launched a full-scale assault.
She cried out his name, and he maintained contact as she bucked and shuddered beneath him. He was far from done, however. He pressed his offensive, driving onward as she climaxed again, her entire body stretching into a taut bow.
“Trent!” she cried out, her voice begging for relief.
Oh, no. He would accept nothing less than her complete surrender. This was war. He sucked and licked and circled her flesh with tongue and lips, and when fatigue began to set into her limbs, he plunged his fingers into her tight heat.
She responded instantly, her entire body tensing for an endless, suspended moment around his invasion. He felt the mother of all orgasms rip through her, and she keened in complete and violent surrender as she literally came apart for him.
Finally taking pity on her, he lifted his head to gaze down at her. Slowly, her eyes blinked open and they were glazed with such pleasure that he doubted she knew her own name at the moment. Okay, this was definitely how he wanted her painted.
Obviously, he would have to do the painting himself. This was not a sight he ever planned to share with anyone else. Chloe was his. Her pleasure and her passion were his. Why she’d chosen him to share this intensely private part of herself with, he had no idea. But he treasured the gift beyond all else.
When she’d caught her breath and a small measure of awareness had flickered back into her eyes, he murmured, “Ready for more?”
“More?” she repeated blankly.
He smiled darkly. “The night is young, my dear.”
* * *
Chloe stared up at Trent in complete disbelief. There was more than that? He just given her the most epic, shattering pleasure of her life. What more could there be? Her fingers ached from squeezing the headboard so tightly and her palms were all but cramping from the pleasure he’d given her. But as long as she was hanging on to the wooden spindles, she was in control. She had the power to call this thing off any time she wanted. Except she emphatically didn’t want.
“More, huh?” she murmured. He’d already put his hands—and mouth—on every square inch of her. No man had ever touched most of the places he’d been tonight. But it was Trent. In spite of his infuriating secrets, in spite of his casual disdain for the order she craved, and especially in spite of his ease with floating in and out of relationships, she trusted him.
He might talk about her sleeping in his bed years from now, but she knew it for the insincere pickup line it was. She knew from her research that he had never allowed any woman to pin him down. She knew he would leave her someday, probably sooner rather than later. But none of it mattered. Not with the echoes of orgasm after orgasm reverberating through her entire being. He made her feel like a whole woman. He made her feel...loved.
Shock rocked her to her core. Wait a minute. Tonight was about her staying in control. Of proving that no man could touch her or her world. She could impose order on her life no matter what he made her feel!
But then his fingers started to move, dancing upon her most sensitive flesh, caressing and flicking at the epicenter of her earlier detonations. Her body responded eagerly, the terrible, exhilarating tension already building deep within her once more. He knew her better than she knew herself. He stroked and teased, drawing reactions from her flesh she didn’t even know she was capable of.
Her eyes drifted closed, and the lure of pure, molten pleasure called to her. She felt the volcano deep in her soul and strained toward it, sinking ever deeper toward her most primal core. When she reached the heart of this indescribable feeling, she would gladly hurl herself into it, no matter that she would be incinerated by it, entirely consumed by it.
A warning hummed vaguely in her mind. She was losing herself in the pleasures of the flesh. Her mind was being subsumed by lust. But, ahh, it felt so good. Still, as incredible as what he’d done to her had felt, she had to let go of that headboard.
His finger slipped into her slick heat and muscles she didn’t know she had gripped the invader tightly as it slid in and out with delicious languor. The volcano surged forward, threatening to blow at any second. Must. Fight. This. Pleasure.
A second finger joined the first, stretching her and filling her. And then Trent started doing the most clever things, rubbing and teasing internal nerves that roared to life and pushed the volcano right to the very edge.
She would let go of the headboard any second. Just a tiny bit more of this insane pleasure. Just a tiny bit more...
When the explosion came, it made everything that had come before pale by comparison. It erupted from the depths of her soul, ripping away the very walls of her existence, throwing the scattered bits of her to the heavens in a spectacular display that lit the night. It went on and on until she didn’t know if it would ever end. And somewhere along the way, she ceased to care. She gave herself over to it, emptying her entire soul into this endless moment.
It was as if her whole life had built up inside an enclosed magma chamber, deep, deep underground. The stored up pressure had been unbelievable, beyond even her wildest imagining. Only when it completely blew like this did she finally understand the enormity of what she’d been carrying around inside her.
It all came out at once. Tears of pain and joy, longing and loneliness. Ambition and fear, dreams and loss, laughter and rage. Everything she was and wanted to be poured out of her in that apocalyptic release.
And finally, when it was all too much for her, the orgasm completely overwhelmed her and everything went black.
She blinked her eyes open—it could have been a second or an hour later—and Trent was there, his body warm and solid against the length of hers. He was propped up on one elbow, staring down at her. Even now, he gave her no quarter, his gaze capturing hers in no uncertain terms, allowing her no place to hide.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
She considered. “Empty.”
His brows drew together in the beginning of a frown and she elaborated hastily. “Good empty.”
“How so?”
“It’s as if I’ve been carrying around this massive burden of...stuff...inside me for so long I didn’t even know it was there. And now it’s just...gone. I feel light. Empty.”
“Got it.”
“Do you?” she murmured. “I’m not sure I do.”
He merely smiled down at her and offered no explanation. “You’re still hanging on to the headboard.”
She blinked up at him, not making the connection to his meaning for a moment. “Oh.” She started to let go and was surprised to discover that her fingers were cramped into tight fists.
He reached up with his free hand to still her hands. “I wasn’t suggesting that you had to let go. I was merely making an observation. Do you want to let go? Or will you let me fill that empty place within you?”
She gazed up at him, not quite understanding his meaning. Comprehension hovered just beyond the edges of her consciousness. That, and a compulsion to hang on to that headboard just a little bit longer and find out what he meant.
