“She has not seen them. I won’t allow her to assist dressing me until I have my shift on. And I haven’t worn my hair up since.”
His soft chuckle whispered across her skin like a caress.
“Lean back,” he urged.
She rested her neck against the tub’s copper edge, all the while keeping her eyes closed.
He picked up her right leg and ran the sponge down the length, stopping short of her mid-thigh. The left leg received the same treatment. Esme’s pulse quickened and desire coiled through her, warming her and melting her blood.
The sponge slid between her breasts, leaving a trail of sudsy water across her skin. A droplet slid across her left nipple and it hardened instantly. The next touch came from his hand instead of the sponge.
Esme opened her eyes, but he was not looking at her face. Instead he was intently focused on her body. She knew it couldn’t be true, but in that moment what she saw etched in Fielding’s features was not desire. His glance was much softer as he stroked his soaped hands across her abdomen.
He swallowed, then licked his lips.
Was it possible that Fielding loved her too? Without thought, she reached up and cupped his face. Smoldering brown eyes met hers, and then he leaned in for a kiss. A second later she was dripping water across the floor as he carried her to the bed.
Since girlhood she’d believed her bookish ways would be unappealing to any man. She believed she lacked some basic element of femininity. But with Fielding, a lifetime of doubts simply dissolved.
No woman could have felt more beautiful or more desired than Esme did in that moment. Gently he placed her on the bed, covering her with his own body.
“I want you.” His hot breath teased her ear. “I want you too,” she said.
His arousal strained against his trousers, pressing into her stomach. She tugged on his shirt, and in answer he stood to remove his clothing. Once before she’d seen Fielding’s body, but this morning she took a moment to fully appreciate him.
Broad shoulders with clearly visible muscles that flexed as his arms moved. Dark hair sprinkled over his chest, then tapered to a thin line that trailed down the center of his abdomen and ended in the curls surrounding his erection. Long, strong legs slipped the rest of the way out of his trousers.
“You’re staring,” he said.
“Perhaps. You’re worth such close inspection.”
He crawled into the bed next to her, the warmth of his skin covering hers.
She pulled his head down for another passionate kiss. She could drink from him for hours. Their mouths mated, increasing the arousal within her. Her body sang with sensitivity as he trailed his fingers down her waist to her hip.
His kiss moved from her mouth, down her shoulder to her breast. He laved the swollen tip until she arched with need. Still he did not stop his sweet torture. His wet, seductive tongue made quick work of her stomach, dipping once into her navel, before licking down to her waist. She clamped her hands onto the bed, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets as he nipped over her waist and across her hip until he hovered over her center.
With his fingers, he parted the curls at the juncture of her thighs and thumbed the sensitive nub hidden there. She cried out.
“Shhhh,” he whispered.
Even with the light streaming in through the windows, she’d forgotten that it was morning and that people were awake and moving about in the house.
Again he flicked a touch over her aching center. Be-fore she could respond, his mouth was on her. Hot, wet, and so sinfully delicious she forgot her name. Her mouth fell open as she pressed her head into the pillow beneath her. He suckled her, then slid one finger inside. Pleasure surged through her.
The rhythm of his mouth and hand were lost to her as she stopped paying attention to what he was doing and focused on how his touch made her body feel. Tension climbed inside her, and every part of her tightened as if she was bracing for a strike. Then the pleasure boiled over, starting in her center and shooting through her body.
Before the waves had ceased he was inside her. She was slick with desire and felt none of the pinch or discomfort she had experienced the last time they made love. Her body still shook with release as he built her up again, stroking and pulsing inside her.
The cords in his neck tightened. Low, guttural sounds came from his throat. One more thrust and his eyes squeezed shut. His release pushed her right over the edge again, and together they rocked with pleasure.
“I love you, Fielding,” she whispered.
He stilled and rolled off her. Instantly, air wafted across her naked body, cooling her skin. But it was his words that chilled her to the bone.
“No,” he muttered. “You can’t love me.”
Her eyes flared with anger. She sat and held the pillow to her chest. “What do you mean, I can’t love you? I’m a grown woman; I should think I can do what I choose.”