46
Caring
“Not even that dick of an ex of yours?”
Richard? Run a bath for her?
Brandy-Lyn sniggered at the ludicrous idea. “Never.”
“Then he’s an even bigger idiot than I figured.”
“No argument from me,” she mumbled, watching Rafferty march into the bathroom. He seemed genuinely pissed on her behalf. And that amazed her.
A yawn stretched her jaw wide as she looked about the room. Her gaze stopped at the couch and she frowned. There was no way Rafferty would be comfortable on that two-seater. She looked back at the bed. It was huge. They’d easily fit. With space to spare.
But share a bed with the man she craved with every molecule in her body?
Not a good idea. Then again, she was too tired to jump his bones.
Brandy staggered to her suitcase. And blinked. He’d even unzipped it. Saving her the effort. She lifted the lid and dug around, finding her pj’s and toiletry bag. Clutching the items to her chest, she moved to the bathroom.
And stuttered to a stop in the doorway. “Oh my.”
A sweet flowery perfume filled the air.
Bubbles lapped the rim of the bath.
And then there was Rafferty.
A deliciously hot male bending over the bath, agitating the water.
Tight ass. Muscled thighs.
He turned off the taps and stood.
Foam clung to his hands and forearms, and he shook it off.
Shoulder muscles rippled under his form-fitting Henley.
She couldn’t stop a strangled sound escaping her mouth.
He spun and bumped against the side of the bath.
And tumbled back.
Into the bath.
Foam flew up in all directions, and water sloshed over the sides, wetting the floor.
For a beat or two, stunned silence filled the room.
Then Brandy broke into uncontrollable giggles.
And Rafferty swore a blue streak.
He lay half in the bath, his torso submerged, head poking above the bubbles, one leg hooked over the outer edge of the bath, the other mercifully held up above the water.
“At … l-least your b-boots … are d-dry,” she stammered through her laughter.
“Glad you’re enjoying this, Red,” he deadpanned, clamping his hands on the tub’s rim. With a mighty heave, he hauled his body out of the water to sit on the edge.
Her gaze drifted over the soaked muscle-mapping shirt.
My, oh my. A delightful sight for sore and tired eyes.
How she’d love to peel the material away and let her hands wander over the exposed flesh.
Her mouth watered and heat flooded her body.
Combined with the billowing steam, she felt hot and uncomfortable.
And needy. So very needy. She shifted, clenching her thighs together.
“Red,” Rafferty growled.
Her eyes locked with his.
Matching heat blazed back at her.
Take the leap, Brandy.
She stepped closer. “You know, if you wanted to share my bath, all you had to do was ask.”
His eyes flared, burning with sudden fire. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing
Another step brought her within touching distance.
He widened his legs.
She walked into the gap.
He settled his hands on her hips.
Brandy threaded her fingers through his spiky hair, marveling at how soft it felt. She let her touch linger, tracing the edges of the ink showing through.
Rafferty dropped his forehead to her chest. “Red.”
One word, three letters, a single syllable.
Yet she felt that roughly uttered word all the way to her core.
And with his long exhalation, warm breath penetrated the cotton fabric, heating her skin, pebbling her nipples. Dampening her panties. “Raff,” she groaned, digging her fingers into his scalp.
He lifted his head and met her stare. “This will change things between us,” he continued in the brusque tone.
“I know,” she whispered.
Rafferty dropped his hands, stood, took hold of the bottom of his shirt, and peeled it up. It was wet and unwieldy, and Brandy helped him drag it down his arms. It fell to the floor with a thump.
Scars crisscrossed taut pectoral muscles and washboard abs, and tears formed at the thought of the pain he had endured.
He’d almost lost his life due to those wounds.
Brandy blinked the moisture away, choosing instead to linger on the colorful wing inked over his heart.
It wasn’t the first time she had seen the tattoo — Sullivan had an identical one — but this one was inked on Rafferty’s skin.
She traced the letters S- i-n-e-a-d beneath the wing.
“I am so grateful you made it back from that fucking jungle,” she whispered.
“Me, too,” he whispered back.
He fiddled with the bottom of her shirt. “You sure?” he asked
“Yes.” Brandy took a step back and stripped the shirt from her body. Sitting on the closed toilet lid, she shucked her boots, and watched Rafferty follow suit. He had some trouble with his waterlogged jeans, whereas hers peeled from her legs effortlessly.
“Hot damn, Red.”
A blush infused her skin at the reverence in his voice.
She never worried what people thought about her figure.
She enjoyed her food and made sure to include enough healthy choices to counter the occasional lapse into junk options.
And her active lifestyle prevented the extra pounds shifting from plump to obese.
But the admiration as his gaze swept over her pleased her immensely.
Brandy grinned. “You’re not too bad yourself,” she said.
Not too bad. Lie of the century. There was not an ounce of extra flesh on his body. Her eyes roamed, settling on the substantial bulge behind the black boxers. And that bulge … well, it bulged more.
He growled. Stalked closer. “I did not expect silk and lace,” he said, tracing the edge of her bra with a featherlight touch. “Especially in red.”
She was surprised (and a lot disappointed) when he dropped his arm. Her nipples strained against the confines the lace he admired, aching for his touch.
“So,” he drawled, “keep undies on? Or not?”
Keep …? What? “I have never bathed in underwear.”
“Just checking.” He grinned and eased his boxers off, kicking them aside.
Brandy stared. And salivated. She wasn’t a novice to well-endowed men, but Rafferty’s cock was outstanding. Literally. Jutting straight and strong, its girth promised a deliciously tight fit.
Unless he was a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kinda guy.
But somehow, she doubted that strongly.
He cleared his throat. “Speechless, Red?”
Her eyes flew to meet his, her face on fire. “Stop calling me Red.”
“Aw, Brandy-Lyn, you love that nickname.” Rafferty stepped into the bath. He arched a brow. “Have you changed your mind about bathing in silk and lace?”
“No.” She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. It fell to the floor, exposing her breasts to Rafferty’s gaze. And an unexpected bout of anxiety attacked her. What if he thought they were too saggy? Or—
“Stop thinking and get in the fucking bath, Red,” he groused.
Before she could talk herself out of this really crazy idea of hers — what had she been thinking?
— she slipped off the scrap of silk that passed for underwear.
Stifling another freaking yawn, she approached the bath, keeping her gaze on the floor, treading carefully across the wet tiles, hyper aware of her nakedness.
At the sound of running water, she lifted her eyes.
Rafferty sat at the far end of the tub fiddling with the elaborate faucet in the center as more water poured into the bath.
Gah. What was her problem? He wasn’t even looking at her.
Brandy clambered in and sat on the opposite end.
She couldn’t help but groan as the warm liquid engulfed her skin.
“So good.” The tub was deep, and the water lapped at her breasts.
She longed to lie back and sink down to her neck but felt awkward.
Ensuring her feet didn’t touch his, she hugged her legs to her chest, rested her chin on her knees, and observed the man across from her as he swirled in fresh hot water.
Splotches of foam clung to the smattering of black hair covering his pecs, and her eyes tracked a glob of froth running down the furrow bisecting his abs until it dissolved when meeting the water.
Had she imagined the spark of lust earlier? Was he merely humoring her? She’d just die of embarrassment if that was the case.
Biting back a sigh, she lifted her head. This was not going how she had imagined. If only she weren’t so tired, she might be able to fathom his mercurial moods.
The water turned off. And his gaze moved up, met and held hers, but she couldn’t get a read on his expression.
He straightened his legs, and his feet brushed against her hips, making her jump.
“Relax, Red. You’re supposed to enjoy your bath.
Instead, you’re wound tighter than a pissed off rattlesnake. ”
She couldn’t argue — he wasn’t wrong. But she couldn’t quite settle, either. The question burned too hot to ignore. “I need to know … Did I force this on you?”
One dark brow lifted. “This?”
She gestured vaguely, heat prickling her cheeks. “Bathing. Together.”
“Right,” he huffed, and moved forward until he was right up close.
He took hold of her hand, breaking her grip on her knees.
Shifting nearer even more, his knees lifted out the water to bracket hers.
And her toes … her toes were wedged right up under his thighs.
If she wriggled her big toe, she would feel … more.
“I can see now where your mind’s at,” he said, all enigmatic like.
Her mind was firmly in the gutter, that’s where. She sighed. “And where’s my mind at?’
“Wondering why I haven’t kissed you. Touched you.”
She dropped her eyes from his all-seeing stare to his hands holding hers captive. “You are touching me.”
He clicked his tongue. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Rafferty, I’m too tired to play mind games.”
“And that, Red, is exactly why all we’re doing tonight is bathing. No kissing. No sex.”
Disappointment rolled through her, settling in a knot at the base of her belly. “Oh.”
“And there she goes again.” Rafferty placed a finger under her chin and nudged her head up.
“Look at me, Brandy-Lyn.” He waited till her eyes leveled with his.
“I want to kiss you all over, map every inch of your silky skin with my tongue. I want to explore every nook and cranny of your luscious body, discover what drives you wild with desire. I want to watch your body flush scarlet as I wring orgasm after orgasm out of you, first with my fingers and tongue, and then with my cock. I want you, Red. With every fiber of my body, I want you. But I also want you to be wide awake when I finally make you mine, not fighting exhaustion like now. So, yeah, tonight we bathe. Just bathe. Then we go to bed and sleep. Just sleep. But tomorrow … I promise, Red, tomorrow you’ll find out exactly how much willpower it’s taking me to not ravish you into oblivion tonight.
Now” — he moved his hand and prodded her shoulder — “stop overthinking this, lie back, stretch out, and fucking relax.”
Rendered speechless, she did just that. Lying back, she sank until water lapped her chin and closed her eyes. And closed her mind. It felt wonderful. The hot water warmed her muscles, and bit by bit the tension abated.
And then he surprised her even more. Taking one of her feet in his hands, Rafferty started massaging it. And damn, his fingers were magic, kneading the sole with his knuckles, applying pressure in the right places, drawing the strain right out of her body.
Brandy could not recall when last she felt so cared for, so cherished, and she emptied her mind and gave in to the exhaustion, knowing that he would take care of her.