“I never said I hated the way you smell.” He sighs. “I saidthatyou smell.”
“But you were mad about it.”
He opens the salve Orvell gave me and dips his fingers into it. “Lift your arms.”
In doing so, I’d bare my breasts to him, which is something I’ve never done before.
A small part of me wants to, though I know I’ll only end up disappointed when he says something rude to me, like how they’re weak-looking, or they’re not worthy.
And he would definitely say that. He’d take joy in it.
“You need not feel shame if that is an issue,” he says, his voice strangely soft. “When I was much younger, I bathed the Great Princess Kasmina and never once overstepped. I cleaned every part of her as powerful temptation needled me.”
“You bathed with a princess?” I ask, shocked.
“I was hers.”
“Well, I never once thought you were going to overstep with me,” I scoff.
“Regardless, the quicker you lift your arms, the less damage the thearnroot will do to you.”
I want to argue with him, but there’s no point. He won’t take no for an answer, and I desperately need his help.
Pressing my eyes closed so I can’t see his disdain for my body, I lift my arms, immediately feeling pressure from his hands on my armpits.
My eyes pop open, and I jerk back, giggling.
His brow narrows at me. “Do you think this funny?”
“No, I’m just ticklish?”
“You are what?”
I sigh. “Of course, you don’t know what it is.”
“What is this ticklish?”
“If you touch a Penticari woman in certain spots, it makes us laugh.”
He looks at me skeptically. “When Grixis touches Elena, she does not laugh.”
“Not…like that. That’s a different touch.” I lift my arms back up. “Just don’t press too hard.”
This time, I don’t close my eyes, and I watch his brow narrowing as he softly touches where I’ve spread the thearnroot.
He’s gentle, which is odd, as I’ve never seen him be anything but rough. Especially toward me.
After a few gentle rubs of his textured fingers over my armpits, he looks into my eyes, asking, “Is this agreeable?”
“The tickling sensation is mild,” I tell him, stifling a giggle. “But I can handle it.”
His silver eyes narrow as he rubs. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s looking at—my breasts.
I feel my cheeks flush with heat, and I suck in a breath, wondering what’s going through his mind. His expression doesn’t give way to satisfaction or disappointment. It’s…neutral.
As though suddenly realizing where his gaze is directed, Ramsey lifts his eyes to my neck, which is also covered in spice.
“You were really thorough,” he says, bringing his hands up, coasting along the edge of my breasts as he does so in a motion that feels intentional.
