She watched the water swallow him until only his upper chest and shoulders were exposed, and then he settled back on the submerged ledge opposite her.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“A bath.”
He smiled, a slight knowing curve to his mouth that had always fascinated her. There was something self-mocking about his smile, as if he knew how ridiculous the role he played was. A trap, that smile, because it made her want to like him. To think there was more to him than there really was.
“You already have your bath.”
“And you clearly underestimate its value.”
“Perhaps.”
She reached for the red bottle, water sluicing from her arm, and he came closer. His movement made the water rock, exposing her nipples and making them pebble.
His hand closed around hers, prying the bottle from her hand. “Please, let me.”
She raised her brows. “You’re protective of your bath oils.”
A faint flush stole across his cheeks, but it might have been the heat. “This one is patchouli. I think...” He reached past her to lift a bottle so deeply blue it was almost purple. He removed the stopper and held it a few inches below her nose. “Rock rose. It suits you.”
She nodded and he tipped the bottle, letting the clear liquid pool in his hand. “Allow me?”
She stood and he knelt, sliding his palms together and smoothing the oil down her arms first, shoulders to fingertips in a cool glide. The scent engulfed her, rich and pure. Why would he think something so tantalizing suited someone like her? It didn’t matter. Enjoy the moment. Don’t think.
She closed her eyes. Her chest, her breasts seemed to deserve extra attention. He pressed his mouth to her belly before covering that too. With a crystalline ring, the glass knocked against another when he replaced the bottle. “Turn.”
He brushed the damp strand of hair from her shoulders and moved his hands down her back, over her buttocks, the backs of her thighs. Another pass and the side of his hand split through her folds. She sucked in a mouthful of steam and he chuckled. She hadn’t imagined he’d bathe her there. But he did, then delved deeper with his fingers, pushing his hand between her thighs, stroking her from front to back while she stood there trembling. Again. The tip of his finger brushed her clit but withdrew far too quickly. He explored her, deftly, thoroughly, and the oil coating his skin and hers made every sensation both more exquisite and more frustrating. She needed more.
He drew her back into his arms, into the water, kissing her shoulder as he whispered in her ear. “Here?” He rocked his erection against her, nestling it in the crack of her buttocks. “Or my bed?”
“Not yet. I haven’t washed my hair.”
She laughed at the expression on his face because it was nearly that hard for her as well. But if she was to bathe like an aristo only once in her lifetime, she would do it properly. Tonight wasn’t about sampling the pleasures of his life in tidy sips and bites. It wasn’t about promise or restraint. She intended to gorge herself on every sensation in greedy gulps, enough to satisfy this desire, enough to sicken her.
To Kal’s credit, he didn’t argue, only reached for a pale blue bottle and poured a creamy substance into his hand. “Come here.”
An order, not a request, but one she obeyed happily. His hands were rougher this time, working through her thick hair, kneading her scalp, pulling through all of the tangles.
“Ouch,” she said when he hit a snag, and he gentled his touch.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. If you tip your head back, I can rinse the soap out.”
She did, feeling curiously vulnerable. But also cared for and then...saddened by that.
Docilely, she allowed him to lead her from the bath and bundle her into a plush length of cloth. He settled her on a stool in front of the fire and a moment later returned with a jade comb. A smaller cloth was tied to his waist, barely coming to his knees. It slung low on his hips and she fought the urge to tug at it as he passed. Without speaking, he began to work at her hair.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve done this before.”
“Perhaps I have.”
She imagined him here with other women and pushed the jealous thought aside. Tonight was hers.
“Ily?”
She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were uncommonly grave, shadowed by uncertainty. “Nothing.” He set the comb aside