“Lay back,” he instructed gruffly and my body immediately responded to his command, the tops of my breasts showing over the bubbles, my nipples rising over the waterline.
A loofa appeared in his hand and with even circles, he moved over my chest, tongue jutting out to seek out my crevices under the guise of bathing.
My hands slipped between my thighs, my eyes closing to half as I continued to study his face.
Lower went the loofa, over my flat stomach and toward the spot where my hands had found my pulsating clit.
My breaths began to escape in short, uneven rasps but I dared not move too quickly, lest I break the moment, the intensity in Bash’s gaze as his shirt sleeves dipped into the water to rub against my upper thighs.
My eyes closed fully now, a tooth almost puncturing a hole through my lower lip and I panted slightly, knowing I was going to bring myself to a climax while Bash watched.
One hand cupped my right breast, my other moving feverishly and a low moan escaped my mouth when the loofa met my center.
I quivered and allowed myself to release, cautiously opening my eyes to meet Bash’s intense stare.
“How’s that?” he asked and I laughed shakily.
“Amazing,” I replied.
He rose, his shirt drenched now and he stripped it off, displaying a washboard stomach I would have never guess he had.
“I’m going to get you a towel,” he said, moving out toward the hallway. I couldn’t do much more than nod, unsure if I was disappointed or relieved that it wasn’t going much further than that.
Or was it?
He returned a moment later and offered me a hand to rise, quickly entrenching me in a huge, fluffy and very warm towel when I did.
“This is luxury,” I mumbled, realizing that I was sleepy again. “Heated towels?”
“Only the best,” he chimed lightly and suddenly, I was back in his arms again, my damp skin against his.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, not because I was worried about falling but because I wanted to inhale him once before he placed me on the bed.
From somewhere, he’d located a fresh set of pajamas and he helped me get dressed, the lines of his fingers pausing subtly over my goose-fleshed skin.
“Let me brush your hair and I’ll tuck you in.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Had a man ever brushed my hair for me? Certainly not since I was a little girl.
He was as good as brushing my hair as he was at bathing me and I almost fell asleep against him as the bristles of the hairbrush massaged into my scalp.
“There,” he breathed into my ear, disentangling himself from behind me. “How’s that?”
I could only manage a weak grin but I was losing the struggle to keep my eyes open.
“Sleep now.” The blanket was pulled up around my chin and I felt the feathery breath of his lips against mine like a whisper in a dream.
Adrenaline pumped through me, overriding my tiredness and I opened my eyes to stare at him, the heat inside my loins ignited again.
Maybe we were going to finish what he’d started after all.
I reached up to pull him closer but he had moved just out of reach before I had opened my eyes. Before he could register my intention, voices drew our attention toward the door and Bash seemed to jump back an entire foot.
“Well!” Stevie cried. “Sleeping beauty is awake!”
“She was just about to go to sleep,” Bash muttered almost angrily but Jim bypassed him as if he wasn’t there and plopped uninvited onto the foot of the bed.
“We can take over from here, Bash. We’ve come to entertain our fair lady.”
“Oh! You had a bath!” Stevie moaned, shooting Jim a wistful look. “I was going to offer to run you one.”
“You’re too late,” I quipped lightly, looking toward Bash but to my disappointment, he had disappeared, leaving me alone with the boisterous duo.
He’s overrun by the others, I thought. A shadow among them.
“I heard something about entertainment,” I said, turning my eyes on the men who grinned at me boyishly. “What have you got?”
My earlier tiredness, the hypnotic feel of the bath had all dissipated in the wake of the new arrivals.
“Well…” Stevie drawled, bouncing his butt on the bed. “We’ve got chess. Do you play chess?”
“Oh,” Jim groaned. “Not chess. Anything but chess.”
Stevie snorted and eyed him.
“Jim hasn’t quite figured out how to play,” he explained. “Too much brain work for him.”
“Hey!” Jim protested, looking hurt. “It’s just boring. I’d do something interesting!”
“She’s a scientist, Jim,” Stevie reminded him. “Which means she’s cerebral.”
Even I could see that Jim didn’t know what the word meant but I stopped the argument from escalating quickly.
“Jim’s right,” I replied. “There’s no point in two of us hunched over a board when there’s three of us here to play, right?”