Chapter Nineteen #2
Steam curled in lazy wisps around her, softening the sharp lines of the room, but doing nothing to soften the effect she had on him.
His pulse hammered in his ears, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the sight of her.
The water traced the gentle curves of her body, golden waves of hair falling over her breasts in a silken curtain.
Desire surged, heavy and insistent, and his knees threatened to give out. He clenched his jaw, forcing the hot weight down, down, down. Forcing himself to remember that he was a gentleman.
God help him, it barely made a dent.
Her eyes widened at his gaze, cheeks still flushed a vivid rose, and her arms drew in to shield herself from his view, the shy movement wrapping innocence and temptation together to render his restraint useless.
His fingers tightened around the small bar of soap until it began to crush in his grip.
Lucien forced himself to move in slow, careful steps across the floorboards, each one vibrating straight up his spine. When he came to a stop behind her, she pulled her knees up an inch. The water shifted around her, the ripples mirroring his heavy pulse.
“Here.” His voice came rougher than he meant as he extended the soap toward her. She reached for it, droplets sliding down her wrist, trailing to his hand. This was where he should turn away. Retreat to the hallway and lock the door behind him.
Instead, his hand closed over hers, capturing the bar between them.
Her breath hitched. And the pulse in his groin bucked hard enough to send a shot of pain through him. He leaned in. “Let me wash you.” The words scraped from him, low and unsteady, a plea dressed as an offer.
Abigail stiffened as he dropped his hand next to her.
He let the water close over him, testing his own restraint as much as her willingness. Heat rose from the bath, curling around his face, blurring the edges of his vision. He focused on her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way a droplet trembled on her collarbone before sliding lower.
He waited for her to protest. For her to tell him to stop.
She didn’t say anything at all. Instead, her fingers drifted—slow, tentative—until they brushed his wrist beneath the water. In that one hesitant touch, the choice was made.
He guided the soap to her skin. The bar glided easily, slipping over the curve of her arm, leaving a faint trail of bubbles in its wake before he let his palm follow, smoothing the suds away.
Her fingers curled on the rim of the tub as he dragged the soap along her shoulder, letting the water pool and spill in delicate rivulets down her spine.
With a heavy swallow, he slipped beneath her hair and pulled it all to one side.
His hand skimmed the surface of her collarbone, lingering where her pulse fluttered wildly beneath the skin.
Her chest rose and fell in a shaky breath as he continued his path down, the sudsy glide of his palm drawing a soft gasp from her.
He cupped her breasts, one, then the other, lathering them until a curtain of bubbles covered her.
She moaned as he took one nipple between his fingers, rolling it into a hard point.
Emboldened, he glided down her belly, his hand splayed wide.
The heat of her skin beneath his hand sent his pulse drumming.
His fingers traced lower, until soft curls brushed against his knuckles.
She shivered, parting to him in silent invitation.
With an approving groan, he slid the soap between her legs.
She sucked in a breath as he pressed it against her, using its slick heft to explore her in slow, deliberate strokes. When she arched her back, he dropped the bar and swept his fingers between her soft folds, searching.
There.
Swollen and slick with more than soap, she opened beneath his touch.
Holy hell.
Her whimper nearly undid him as his finger slipped inside her.
He leaned in close, mouth brushing her ear. “Do you like this?”
Her entire body shuddered with her heavy swallow. She nodded.
“Tell me.” He growled his command in her ear, and her answering shiver sent his cock throbbing so hard he grunted.
“Yes… You make me feel…” She trailed off, and his lips parted in hungry anticipation.
“Feel like what?” He curled his finger, stroking deep inside her.
Her hands flew from the side of the tub, reaching back until they caught at his shoulders, fingertips digging into his skin. “Like… like I’m on fire.”
Lucien groaned low in his chest, plunging with deliberate precision.
Her nails scored his neck, tiny delicious pricks of pain mingling with pleasure.
Heat pooled in his belly, spreading outward in a slow, cruel burn.
He gave one last slide, then pulled free and pressed against the nub nestled in her curls.
Her head fell back, fingers catching in his hair as he swirled his finger there. A tremor ran through her, and he caught the tiny hitch of her breath. His thumb circled again, slower.
So close.
One more stroke and she would fall apart in his arms.
He stilled. Pulled away a fraction of an inch.
She cried out in a strangled gasp, angling her hips to regain his touch, and the edge of his control began to slip. It would be so easy to finish her, to wring every last bit of pleasure from her.
“Please.”
A wicked thrill ran through him at her plea, and he pulled his hand from the water. A small, desperate shiver ran through her, and she twisted to meet his gaze, her eyes wide and glassy. She grasped for him, but he held his fingers just out of reach.
“What do you want?” The demand tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.
“Your hands.” Her words came throaty and breathless.
He raised one brow. “Say it properly. Say it aloud.”
The room began to shrink around them, her ragged breaths ringing in his ears. She swallowed. Sucked in a breath.
“I want you to touch me… to stop this infernal ache.”
In one fluid sweep, he slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other along her back.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he stood, breath shivering against his throat—and God, he felt it.
Every trembling inch of her. Water streamed down her body, dripping onto the floorboards, soaking into his trousers, sliding along his arms in warm rivulets.
She made a startled sound against his chest.
“I’m dripping all over the floor.” Her arms locked around his neck as she slipped in his grasp.
“To hell with the floor.” He groaned as the slick press of her bare skin against his chest threatened to make him abandon every restraint and take her then and there.
He carried her to the bed, laying her down so that her legs draped over the edge. For a moment, he stood there, gazing down at her, basking in the sight of her fully revealed to him. Open. Inviting.
He sank to his knees between her thighs.
His lips pressed to the glistening skin at her knee and she sucked in a gasp, twitching as he began to kiss his way up. Her fingers caught in the sheets next to her, twisting into fists.
Soft golden curls brushed his nose.
Her scent—soap and musk and delicate sweetness—intoxicated him. No power on earth could have stopped his hand as he reached up to spread her folds before him. Dusky pink flesh shimmered, glistening under his touch, her heat rising to caress his cheek.
“I—what are…?” She broke off as he trailed one finger through the pool that had gathered there, pulling it up to swirl around the tight peak of her sex.
“Shh…” He blew the low sound across her exposed flesh and she squirmed as his tongue replaced his finger.
Soft, honeyed sweetness bloomed across his tongue.
God, she tasted so good.
She tried to speak again, but her words dissolved into a whimper as he slid one finger inside her, curling it just right while his mouth continued its worship.
He lapped reverently, savoring every drop as her broken moans and pants filled the air like music.
Her thighs beneath his palms, held wide open to him.
His lips curved against her—she was wound as tightly as he was.
Though he could spend hours doing this—taking her to the edge and backing her away, building her to a soaring height until she begged—he didn’t have the patience.
With a bold press, he closed around her, his tongue fully claiming her. She arched sharply, nails digging hard into his shoulders, and her hips lifted as she jerked beneath him.
Her fractured cry echoed from the rafters above, her body bucking and twisting as her release consumed her.
Instinct took over and he climbed over her like a man possessed, one hand reaching into his waistband, fingers fumbling to free his aching cock.
The clang of a church bell jarred him back to reality. A rude reminder they were out of time. That danger still waited for them. He squeezed his eyes shut, muscles screaming in protest, and began to ease away from her welcoming heat.
“Please. You can’t stop now.” One hand reached for him, though the rest of her remained in a boneless pile.
Heaven help him, he wanted to give in. More than anything he’d ever wanted. As slick and swollen as she was, it would only take a handful of hard thrusts to find his completion.
He raked a hand through his hair. If he took her again, no matter how quickly, he might not be able to stop wanting more. The thought sent a delicious and dangerous weight pressing against his ribs, reminding him of his quiet conviction earlier.
Too much.
Too soon.
One night could be dismissed as carnal impulse. But this? This was more than fleeting pleasure. One indulgence too many, and he would plunge them both into a recklessness he could never repair. He could not give her what she deserved.
Not yet.