“You’re blushing a little bit, though,” she pointed out with a giggle, and didn’t feel quite so self-conscious about being totally bare beneath the water.
His cheeks were indeed a little pink, but he smoothed his smile into something unconcerned, haughty, and got slowly to his feet.
She’d barely touched her wine, but her tongue felt loose. The warm water, she thought, or maybe having him here in the intimacy of her bathroom, while she lay naked and vulnerable.
She didn’tfeelvulnerable, though. She said, “I like the way you stand.” She would have died if she’d said that six months ago, but it was true. He had this catlike grace, and he cocked his hips like he knew he was sexy. “And that’s not just the tumor talking.”
His smile became a smirk – an attractive one – and he took two panther-like steps toward her, hips rolling. “I didn’t think it was.” Another step, and the movement pulled his coat tight against his waist, highlighting its narrowness; and his breeches pulled tight in other areas, highlighting things that were definitely not narrow. “Perhaps I stand that way on purpose. To arouse you.”
She snorted – but it was a weak sound, and she knew it. She felt a heat gathering low in her belly, a tightening. And a fluttering in her chest. Shit, it had been a long time. Too long.
“Perhaps,” she echoed, faintly. “That’s sweet of you.”
He grinned, fangs sharp points, and his pupils dilated as he came closer, and closer still. “Not really.” His gaze made a slow journey from her face, down to the water, over her body beneath it. She’d pulled her knees up a fraction, and they shadowed the place between her legs, just enough that he wouldn’t be able to see it. But his gaze shifted down her legs, to her toes, and back up, over her pale belly, and breasts, and down her sunburned arms.
“I like the way you sit a horse,” he said, eyes finally returning to her face, “and I’d ask if you do that to arouse me, but I know you don’t. You’re only wonderful at it, andthatarouses me.”
Her mouth fell open, and she breathed out a shivery little exhale. Her blood was thrumming, and the heat in her belly had become an empty ache. She wanted – a dozen specific fantasies flickered through her mind, each rawer and dirtier than the last.
She wet her lips, and his gaze followed the movement of her tongue. “Val,” she said, voice low and rough. “Come here.”
He sank down – gracefully, always graceful – to his knees beside the tub and rested his forearms on its edge, his face only a few inches from hers. Eyes dark pools, fangs elongated and teasing at his lower lip as he breathed roughly through an open mouth.
She was panting, too. “Val, please.”
“I can’t touch you, darling,” he said, pained. “I wish – God, you have no idea how much I–” He closed his eyes a moment, swallowed, expression almost a grimace. When he opened his eyes again, they were nothing but pupil, the blue only a thin ring. “I can’t touch you,” he said again, “but you can touch yourself.”
And…oh.
She could do that.
She wanted to do that.
Her hands shifted under the water.
“Go slow, love,” he murmured, like his throat was tight.
A tightness she felt in her own throat; her whole body felt tight. She had to wet her lips again. “Where should I start?”
He reached with one spectral hand, and hovered it just beneath her ear. “If I were here, I would touch you everywhere. I’d start right here, at your lovely throat.”
The words sent a thrilled shiver through her. Of course a vampire would go for the throat first. Would he sink his fangs? Drink her blood? No, no, she didn’t think so. She knew he wouldn’t. But the thought of those sharp points scraping lightly over her pulse left her reeling, and she pressed wet fingertips to the side of her neck.
Val let out an explosive breath, a little hiss at the end, utterly transfixed.
Her skin came alive under her own touch in a way it never had, made electrifying by the weight of his gaze. She trailed her fingertips down, and felt her pulse flutter. Swallowed with an audibly click when she reached the ultra-sensitive hollow at the base of her throat. She pretended it was his touch; pretended she could feel the heat of his breath as he leaned in even closer, as her hand slipped beneath the surface of the water.
“You’re so utterly feminine,” he murmured around a low, pulsing growl when she cupped her breasts in both hands. They felt heavy, swollen, her nipples drawn tight, despite the heat of the water. She plucked at her nipples and lifted into the sensation with a little gasp.
“Yes,” he said.
And as he moved lower: “I love your hips. I love that little bit of softness, there, on your belly, and just inside your thighs. God, you’re such a woman and Iloveit.”
“Val.” Her heart hammered behind her ribs; the rush of blood in her ears loud as a faucet left running.
“Lower.”
She went lower, a punched-out sound leaving her throat. She was wet already, slick in a way that had nothing to do with the water, and she teased apart her lips while her thumb pressed into her clit.
