Mostly, I wanted to tumble him into the tub with me.
Instead, I settled for watching him sit on the edge, still in those elegant gray trousers. He looked like something from a pin-up calendar, all easy sensuality in slacks with no shirt and his hair slightly tousled.
He was exceptional, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many women he’d brought to his room, touched, bathed, taken to bed.
I wondered—and wished that I hadn’t let the thought enter my mind. I had no right to jealousy. Tyler wasn’t mine—couldn’t be mine—and whatever connection I might fantasize that I felt tonight was just an illusion. How could it be real when we were both clutching tight to our secrets?
“Deep thoughts?” he asked, stroking my hair.
I smiled up at him. “Just thinking how gorgeous you are.”
His brows lifted. “I’m flattered.”
“Like hell. You know you’re amazing.”
“And in so many ways,” he said, with a cocky grin.
I laughed, then started to splash him. He caught my hand. “Hands on your knees,” he said. “I’m going to bathe you.”
I opened my mouth to—what? Complain? Question? In the end, I said nothing, just leaned back on my pillow with my hands on my knees and let him take charge.
He started with my legs. Gently, he lifted each leg in turn, putting my heel on a little step inside the tub that I guessed was made for that very purpose. He stroked my skin with scented soaps, then slid his slick and slippery hands along my feet, my calves, my thighs. When he reached the juncture, he stroked my sex lightly, sending trills of pleasure dancing through me. And then his hand was gone again, as if he’d intended nothing more than a preview of what was to come.
He moved on to my torso, then my arms and hands, sensually massaging each individual finger until I thought I would go mad with the desire for more, so much more. Then his attention turned to my breasts, caressing and stroking until I could feel every touch in every cell of my body, and my nipples were tight with need.
To my regret, though, he took it no further.
“How do you feel?” he asked, and I blinked my eyes open to see him smiling down at me with a kind of sensual satisfaction. “Relaxed,” I said. “Turned on.”
I saw the flicker in his eyes, but if stroking and touching me had aroused him equally, he didn’t say. Instead, he simply lifted a spray nozzle and gently began to wet my hair.
His hands, both strong and sensual, massaged my scalp as the shampoo he chose—full of mint and eucalyptus—saturated my senses. I began to float, eyes closed, this man taking care of me.
I don’t know how long I floated there, lost in that sensual place that Tyler had taken me. I only knew that when my eyes fluttered open, my hair was rinsed and the tub was draining—and instead of feeling cold as the water swirled away, I felt the hot pulse of desire inside me.
Without a word, Tyler held out a hand. I took it gratefully. I wasn’t sure I could have managed without his support.
I padded carefully down the stairs, then stood on a plush bath mat. He stood in front of me, just stood there watching me with the air crackling wild around us. I reached out—I had to—and slowly trailed my fingers over his bare chest.
I felt the beat of his heart beneath my hand, and pressed my palm there. I lifted my head, found his eyes, and almost stumbled from the force of the desire I saw looking back at me.
“Yes,” I whispered. “God, yes.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak, but as I slid my hand down, exploring the shape of him, I felt his muscles tighten with barely contained control. I smiled, liking that I was the one making him quiver, and I got slowly to my knees, thinking that I’d like to make him quiver even more.
But when I reached for his fly, he gently stopped my hand. “No.”
I looked up. “I know you like it.”
“Very much. And I can think of very little I’d like more than to see your lips around my cock. But not now.”
“Why not?”
He held my hand and eased me to my feet. “Because the rest of tonight is about you.”
“Oh.”
He went to a closet and came out with a white silk robe. He helped me into it, the material as soft and gentle as a kiss. I tightened the sash, then drew my hands over the material, enjoying the way it felt against my skin.