by Susan Fox
He eased out the cork, poured two glasses, and handed her one. Then he raised his. “To strangers on a train, and getting to know each other.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
The wine wasn’t up to the standard of the champagnes they’d drunk lately, but then few wines were. Its taste was pleasant, and it gleamed golden and bubbly in the candlelight.
She chose a chocolate and offered the box to him.
“No, thanks.” Watching her expression as she savored hers was pleasure enough.
He put the game board in the middle of the bed, then sprawled opposite her, propping himself up on one arm. “Your turn, I believe.”
She tossed the die, moved three squares, landed on a heart, and picked a card. “‘What’s the most romantic gift a lover could give you?’”
Her eyes closed, and he imagined she was remembering fancy presents from other men. Yet, when she opened her eyes again and gazed at him, her expression was wistful and almost embarrassed. “The truth? A marriage proposal. Telling me he loved me heart and soul and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.”
Nav would have given her that this very minute if she was ready. “Yes,” he said softly, “that’s about as romantic as it gets.”
He rolled and drew a card. “‘What’s the sexiest place you’ve ever made love?’ Hmm…”
“So many places to choose from?” She lifted her wineglass and studied him over the rim.
Did he hear a spark of jealousy, or was that wishful thinking? “Beds are great, but there’s a lot to be said for variety.”
He chose a memory that would work for his Dhiraj persona. “When I was seventeen or eighteen, I had sex on a midsummer night, under the stars, on an allure.”
“A what?”
“It’s the walkway at the top of a castle wall. One summer a chap at school invited a few of us to his family’s country home for the weekend. It was near the ruins of a small castle, and some of us went for a guided tour. I was dating a girl named Anna, who was always reading historical romances. She loved the term ‘allure,’ and…well, we snuck back at night with a blanket and made love there.”
“Very romantic,” she said approvingly. “Was she your first lover?”
“No. That was Francesca, one of my friend’s big sisters.”
“How old were you?”
“Let’s just say, several years younger than Francesca. She seemed very sophisticated. God knows what she saw in me, but I sure as hell was glad. For the entire two months it lasted. How about you? Who was your first?”
“The prom king, on prom night.” She took another chocolate. “Could I be any more cliché? I felt like I was the last virgin in school, but I was waiting for someone special.”
“Was the prom king good enough for your family?”
Her mouth twisted, and he knew it wasn’t from the taste of the candy. “No, and they were right. He wasn’t special. It was the magic of the night—we were even wearing crowns—that made me think so. A month later he dumped me for someone he met at his summer job.”
“Sorry.”
“The story of my life.” She threw the single die vigorously, and he raised a hand to block it from tumbling off the board.
“Kat, they’re idiots.” He reached over to stroke her cheek, tuck a curl of hair behind her ear. “The men who don’t appreciate you.”
“That’s a sweet thing to say.” A sparkle hit her eyes. “And you’re damned right, too.” She glanced down. “What did I roll? A one. Which puts me on a diamond.” She drew a card and read it. “‘Which would you rather share with your lover: a shower or a bath?’”
Images cascaded through his mind and arousal stirred again. “Both sound good to me.”
“Me, too. It’s hard to choose. Depends on the day and my mood. Baths are more romantic. You can play, tease, linger. Showers are immediate. Sexy, with all that rushing water.”
Slick skin, soapy hands, flushed breasts. His room had a tiny bathroom with toilet and sink. The shower was in a separate room across the hall.
It wouldn’t be as comfortable as this bed, but he wanted to give Kat something special. Damn it, he was a fun lover, spontaneous and inventive, not a man she’d grow bored with. She needed to realize it. If he’d had an allure handy, he’d have taken her up on it and made love to her under the starlit sky.
“The shower across the hall has room for two,” he said. “So long as the two are friendly.”
Her eyes gleamed with interest in the candlelight. “You want to share a shower?”
Chapter 14
A shower with…Dhiraj. The idea was deliciously tempting, but…“People are starting to turn in,” I said. “Some will be taking showers before bed.” It would be too embarrassing if someone saw us going in or out together.
“We’ll roll the die a while longer, then have our own shower before bed.”
He suited action to words, landing on a spade, and read from the card he chose. “‘What do you most fear right now?’ Jesus, some of these are tough.”
While he reflected, I thought how I would answer that question. Not being loved, I figured. Loved unconditionally by a special man. The idea that it would never happen was…terrifying. Unthinkable. I took a hefty swallow of wine.
Dhiraj was staring at the card, but his gaze was unfocused. Was this such a hard question for him?
“You don’t have to answer,” I reminded him. “But you’ll have to move backward.”
Slowly he looked up and focused on my face. “I fear not getting the thing I most want.”
“Oh, no, that’s not a proper answer. You have to say what you most want.”
He shook his head and moved his black Cupid backward.
“Coward. Come on, Dhiraj, what do you most want?”
Picking up his wineglass, he gave me a flirtatious smile. “To get you in the shower.”
“Uh-uh. They’re asking for something more significant.”
“Which is why I moved back.” He drained his glass and got up to get the bottle.
If he’d wanted to arouse my curiosity, he’d picked the right method. He was Dhiraj. He could make up an import/export business, a brother, anything he wanted. Why didn’t he make up an answer to the question?
He picked up my glass and refilled it. “Your turn, Kat.”
“Okay, fine,” I grumbled. I rolled, moved, picked a diamond card. “‘Taste and smell are the senses people most neglect. Describe your lover’s taste and smell—and feel free to sample them to refresh your memory.’”
The question made me smile. “The scent is sandalwood. The taste…mmm, I think I need a refresher.”
“Help yourself.”
I leaned across the game board toward him, and he met me in the middle. Figuring he expected me to kiss him, I instead licked his cheek, eliciting a soft laugh. Then I gripped his head in both hands, held him steady, settled my lips on his, and probed his mouth with my tongue. With each exploratory stroke, my arousal built and his shuddering sigh said he felt the same.
I gave a purr of enjoyment, then pulled back. “Wine, with undernotes of rosemary and coffee. Yummy.”
“You’re saying my taste is what I last ate or drank? That’s not a very good answer.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Which meant I had to taste more than just his mouth. Not exactly a hardship. Suggestively I ran the tip of my tongue delicately around my lips.
“Jesus, Kat.”
I leaned close and licked his neck, moving downward in soft, sure strokes. The top couple of buttons of his shirt were undone, and my tongue tracked the brown skin between them. I undid the next button, and the next, lapping my way down the center of his body.
Such lovely skin, with curls of black hair for accent.
When his shirt was undone halfway, I spread the sides open, licked his nipple until it hardened, then sucked it into my mouth.
He gave a soft moan. “How do I taste?”
I released him and sat back on my side of the be
d. “A little salty, a little…musky male, that’s the best I can describe it.”
“You want to sample any other places?” His voice was husky with arousal.
“I’ll save that for the shower.” I tried to sound teasing, but the color of my cheeks, the wild pulse fluttering at my throat, would tell him I was turned on, too. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“No way. And I think it’s time for that shower now. Do you need anything? Are you okay with the train’s toiletries?”
“They’ll do for tonight.”
He rose from the bed and quickly gathered towels and toiletries. “Come on.”
We checked that the narrow corridor was empty, then crossed it and found the shower door unlocked. The room was laid out in two sections, with a small changing area as well as the shower cubicle.
After he locked the door, I peeled the flimsy dress over my head, tossed it on the bench, and stood there in a lacy peach-colored bra and thong.
“Wow.” He gave a wolf whistle.
I tossed him a saucy wink.
His shirt was still open at the front, and now he removed his cuff links and put them in a pants pocket. He shrugged out of his shirt and hung it on a hook. He had the most amazing torso, all taut muscles and cinnamon skin.
Impatient to see more of him, I reached for the button at the waist of his pants, unzipped them, shoved them down to reveal the erection that thrust against his silky black underwear.
He stepped out of his pants and hung them on a hook. Then he pulled me into his arms. Our mouths joined in a soft, slow, kiss, flavored by the chocolate I’d eaten. It went on and on while our bodies snuggled close, adjusting to each other, shifting so that all the best spots pressed together.
His hands cupped my butt cheeks, left naked by the thong, and I tangled my hands in his hair, tugging it free from the band that pulled it back.
Arousal crept shimmering through my body until it filled me, burning in an urgent flame that made me gasp against his mouth.
He broke the kiss, thrust me away, and his voice was ragged when he muttered, “If we’re going to have that shower, we’d better do it now.” With one hand he yanked off his briefs, and with the other he reached past the shower curtain to turn on the tap.
I peeled off my bra and thong and tossed them on the bench as he stepped behind the curtain. His hand reached out and I took it.
He tugged and I let him pull me into a world of warm, cascading water, dim light, hard, heated flesh.
After a quick embrace, he put his hands on my hips and turned us so his body shielded me from the spray. He tilted his head back, into the stream of water, then forward again, his smile an exultant flash of white teeth against brown skin as water rained down his face.
Then he shook his head, scattering droplets everywhere. Soaked curls of black hair twisted this way and that around his face.
Curls like Nav’s.
No, I had to think of him as Dhiraj.
“Dhiraj, where’s the soap? I want to wash you.”
He reached into the changing area, where he’d dropped the toiletries on the bench. But, rather than give the bar to me, he held on to it. “Me first.”
“It was my idea.”
“My soap.” He dropped a wet kiss on my nose. “And I have less self-control than you.” His eyes were mischievous behind thick black lashes beaded with droplets of water.
“Ah ha, an admission of weakness.”
“Turn around.”
I obeyed, closed my eyes, and sighed with pleasure as his soapy hands caressed me, slick and warm. The scent of vanilla soap rode the moist air. Gently he massaged my shoulder muscles, stroked down my back. Lingered on my butt, teased the crease between my cheeks. Slid down between my legs, focusing my arousal, making me gasp and press against his hand.
He moved on, stroking down my legs and kneeling on the floor of the shower so he could soap my feet. Then he stood up and tilted me gently into the spray, letting it rinse my body and soak my hair.
“Shampoo?” he asked.
“I can—”
“Let me.” He uncapped the small bottle, and I closed my eyes. Then his fingers were in my hair, rubbing in shampoo and massaging my scalp with sure strokes that were pure bliss.
He rinsed out the shampoo, careful that none ran down my face into my eyes. “Conditioner?” he murmured.
Surrendering yet again to being pampered by this man, I said, “Yes, please.”
Deftly he smoothed it through my hair; then he turned me to face him.
I opened my eyes and saw the intensity in his chocolate gaze, skimmed down his body and noted the forceful thrust of his erection. My nipples tightened, and I reached for him with both hands.
He caught my hands in one of his. “Not yet, Kat. Let me wash your front.”
I dropped my hands to my sides, waiting none too patiently as he rubbed the bar of soap between his hands. Eventually he put it down and touched my shoulders with hands dripping frothy bubbles. Gently he smoothed down my arms, under them, then to my breasts.
Mesmerized, I watched. My breasts were flushed and full under the lacy coating of soap bubbles, and his fingers brushed them in a silky, seductive slide of soapy flesh against flesh.
I moaned, thrusting my breasts into his hands, and he tweaked the hard, aching nubs. Then he let go and reached for the soap, again rubbing up a froth. He slicked his hands across my belly and down into the tangle of auburn curls.
My breath caught in anticipation, and my eyes squeezed shut as I concentrated on the sensations he was creating, the spiral of arousal coiling ever tighter inside me.
His hand slid between my legs, and I gave a needy whimper as his soapy fingers stroked me, back and forth, in light drifting caresses and then firmer ones that made me press against him in an unspoken demand.
My legs trembled as need gathered inside me, desperate for release.
He ran those seductive fingers over my clit, circling, rubbing, flicking ever so gently across it. I felt that reaching sensation inside me, the I’m-so-close feeling.
Then he squeezed, and I came apart.
The climax was so intense, I cried out, hoping the pounding water would cover the sound so it didn’t carry through the wall to the sleeping compartment next door.
He held me upright as my body shook with pleasure and my legs turned to jelly.
Gradually, I recovered enough to open my eyes, find my balance. Enough to admire the way the water streamed down his muscular chest and note that his erection showed no sign of faltering. “My turn.” I reached for the soap, then turned him so he had his back to me.
I didn’t have his patience. Much as I loved touching his body, I was in a hurry to get to the best part, so I made only a slap-dash job of washing his back, though I did linger to admire his firm butt. Then I turned him so he faced me again and brushed soapy hands across his chest, then downward toward my goal.
I curved a hand around his firm cock, gliding up and down on a skim of bubbles.
His hands were on my shoulders, gripping hard. More to steady himself now, I thought, than to help me keep my balance. “You look beautiful wet,” he said.
“So do you.” His back was to the shower. The water had sleeked his hair against his head, and rivulets streamed down his brown skin. “Like a seal.” Or a water god.
I wanted to move him so my back was to the water, so I rose and took his shoulders to guide him. As we swapped positions, he lost his balance, reached out, and—“Oh, shit,” he said, “I grabbed the alarm.”
The showers had red knobs you could pull to call an attendant in case of an emergency. Quickly he shoved it back in, and we clung together, laughing breathlessly. Waiting. His cock was a rigid, enticing pressure against my belly.
In a couple of minutes we heard a male voice call, “Is everything all right in there?”
“Yes, I pulled it in error,” my companion called in that classy Brit accent. “Sorry to trouble you.”
“No worr
ies. Happens all the time,” was the laconic reply.
“Now,” I whispered, “where were we?” We’d shifted position so I stood under the shower, my back to the showerhead, and he faced me.
“Let’s start off here.” He tipped my face up for a long kiss as steamy as the air around us.
When we broke apart, I sank to my knees, sliding my hands down the sides of his body as I went, then took him in my mouth. He tasted of water, smelled of vanilla soap.
He groaned. Fisted his hands in my hair. Thrust gently as my lips encompassed as much of him as I could take in.
I was under a waterfall, with water hitting my head, my shoulders, streaming down my back, my face, all around me. His cock was fiery heat, rigid strength in my mouth. I sucked, lapped the crown, and gradually the sultry taste of aroused male replaced the bland one of water.
“So good, Kat. So good.” His hips tilted, and he tugged my hair. “Stop now. I have to come.”
Not releasing him, I shook my head.
The sound he made was a growl. Like a leopard ready to pounce. Primitive, almost savage.
I could sense the orgasm rising in his body, gathering strength, collecting itself, then plunging forward. He jerked in my mouth and salt-sweet come exploded on my tongue.
I swallowed it, took his essence into me, and he thrust again, almost as forcefully. Once more I swallowed and then swirled my tongue gently around the head of his cock. I rode out more spasms, each less powerful than the one before.
Finally I released him and, breathless, rested my forehead against his thigh.
His hands caressed my shoulders. “Come here. Come kiss me.”
I let him tug me to my feet, noticing but not minding the soreness in my knees from the floor of the shower.
His expression was tender, affectionate. He smoothed the wet hair back from my face and kissed first my forehead, then my nose, and finally my lips. Gently but thoroughly he took my mouth in a kiss that was less passion than…
I couldn’t name it. Didn’t remember ever being kissed that way before.
