Page 74 of A Devious Arrangement
“Okay.” I swallow, unable to meet his eyes in case he really can read my mind.
Bash’s smile is brilliant, like he’d just received a gift he’s been waiting for as he guides his coat from my shoulders, the heavy fabric falling to the floor. He takes care to remove the rest of the thin fabric still clinging to me until I’m standing in front of him naked, goose bumps raised along my skin.
He barely kicked off his shoes before lifting me into the air and entering the tub with me in his arms.
“What are you doing?” I gasp as I’m submerged under the hot water.
Bash shifts me so I’m nestled between his knees, and his chin rests on my shoulder.
“You’re cold.” His voice is low, breath fanning over my temple, his words so matter-of-fact I could almost believe it’s normal to get into a bath fully dressed.
“You’re insane,” I say out of habit, but there’s no edge to my voice. I’m being sucked under by this man, and for now, I don’t intend to stop it. The warm water and his heat surrounding me finally eliminate the last of the chill that was clinging to me.
I try to ignore the way the rough fabric of his shirt and pants makes every inch of where we touch more sensitive.
Bash ignores my taunt as he lifts the shower wand and turns on the tap, taking several seconds to get the temperature right. He tilts my chin back with his thumb and forefinger, rinsing my hair under the warm stream. I’m frozen in place as he washes my strands, his fingers massaging my scalp and delicately running through the ends.
As he works, he murmurs a meaningless stream of conversation, from what he had for dinner to how his coffee tasted burnt this morning. The mundane topics and his deep, soothing tone coax me until I’m resting against him, languid in his arms.
The cloth slips where he’s washing my thigh, and the end brushes my clit. It was barely a graze, but it has embers crackling, growing within my core as every inch of him beneath me seems to imprint on my skin.
Bash hums low in his throat, the sensation vibrating through my shoulder blades. He does it again, this time intentionally, and a slight moan escapes my lips.
His fingers tighten over my thigh momentarily before releasing. His voice is gravelly when he says, “Princess, look at me.”
As if compelled, I twist, my inhale cutting off when I meet his gaze. The air around us is heavy, a seriousness taking over as emotions I’ve been burying start to rise. His gray eyes reach into me, making promises I’m not ready to decode.
The distance between our mouths closes until his breaths fan against my mouth. I want this…it’s a truth that settles deep inside me as I close the distance between us. His lips are soft as they press against mine, seducing them open and deepening the kiss.
If our kiss earlier was a crash of desperation, this one is a slow descent into need. Our tongues dance together as our shallow breaths merge. Each touch of his fingers along my back is a drawn-out caress, like he’s taking his time memorizing my every curve.
He shifts us so my face rests against his chest, nestled below his collarbone, and continues his path over my skin. Tingles erupt where Bash’s thumb brushes my inner thigh, each sweep lower than the last. It’s torturously slow. Every nerve ending, every molecule, every fiber of my being is focused on the barely there pressure, tension pulsing in my clit until it feels like I’ll come apart the second he grazes it.
I let out a frustrated huff, and he chuckles, pressing his mouth against my forehead. There’s a current, alive under my skin, one that isn’t above begging.
“I’ll always take care of you,” he murmurs.
It’s a promise, and my heart aches, but he silences my thoughts when his fingers slip between my folds. He touches me as if he knows me, a book he’s already memorized, as if he already owns me.
My orgasm builds over and over until it crashes like a wave into a cliff. I’m drowning in it, the never-ending pulses holding me underwater, unable to breathe. He strokes my neck, arm, back, helping me come down from my high.
Bash kisses my forehead. “You are my addiction, Anastasia. I hope you’re ready for what that means.”
Chapter 33
Anastasia
The robe Bashwraps me in is made of thick white terry cloth. He doesn’t let go of me, which is good because I still don’t have complete control over my legs. Bash washed me from head to toe, refusing to let me do anything while he took care of everything. There’s a feeling of contentment growing inside me that I’ve never experienced before. Like, everything that’s happening right now is exactly how it should be.
There’s a sharp twist under my ribs at the thought of having to let this go. It’s already too late to go back now, so I let Bash guide me to the bed, where he sits me between his legs.
My gaze snaps to him as the loud buzz of a hair dryer turns on. “I can do that.”
“Stasia, just let me. I know I don’t have to, but I want to keep taking care of you.” He’s so uncharacteristically serious that I turn forward and lower my head, giving him access.
There’s a warm, soft emotion expanding in my chest until it’s hard to breathe. The ever-tightening tension that’s been tugging my muscles loosens as he gently dries my hair. The warm air and his soft touch draw me into a blissful state I never want to wake up from.
I’m careful not to examine it too closely as I relax in Bash’s arms.
