Blood Moon (Silver Moon, #3) - By Rebecca A. Rogers Page 0,11
looking?”
Grinning like a fool, he says, “Because that’s kind of creepy.” I smack him. “Borderline stalker-ish, even.” I punch him this time. “Jeez, I should just get a restraining order. I mean, look at you—you can hardly keep your hands off me.”
Dramatically gasping, I seize the opportunity to leap on top of him . . . just as Fiona enters the room.
“Oh, my!” she says, clutching at her heart again. “Apologies, I did not intend to interrupt.”
I scramble back into my sitting position. “I promise it’s not like that.”
Making matters worse, Ben mumbles, “Liar. You just wanted to get me out of these clothes.”
I can literally feel heat radiating through my cheeks. Am I . . . blushing? How can he embarrass me like this? Poor Fiona! She probably thinks we hump each other like rabbits. Meanwhile, we haven’t done anything of the sort; we’re too busy steering clear of the wrath of each other’s family.
Fiona finishes dumping the heated water into the tub, while I give Ben the stink eye. He’s too cocky for his own good, just sitting there, basking in delight. I’ll get him back. I swear I will.
As Fiona exits the room to warm more water, Ben reaches out and tenderly runs his fingers across my cheeks. “You’re flushed,” he says. “I can see that even with what little light is in here.” I smack his hand away and he chuckles. “We’re married, remember? Married couples do that stuff all the time.”
“Not in the sixteenth century! They had morals back then.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
Fiona returns with more boiling water. She refuses to look at us. I feel so, so mortified. I can’t even begin to express my emotions into words.
“I shall allow the others to heat, and then thy bath shall be ready,” says Fiona. She leaves the room once again.
“Should we start undressing now, or . . .?”
“Ben!” I hit him. Hard. He deserves it.
Sniggering, he says, “Okay, fine. We’ll wait.”
A little while later, our bath is finally prepared, and Fiona retires for the night. Ben and I just sit on the edge of the bed, eyeing the tub like it’s about to magically grow legs and walk out of the room. Finally, I take the initiative to strip. I mean, it’s not like Ben hasn’t seen me naked on this trip already. And maybe, just maybe, I can hold this over his head. Payback’s always a bitch.
I begin with my jeans and shirt, socks and shoes follow, and then my undies and bra. Feigning a seductive air, I turn to him and say, “Aren’t you going to join me?” He doesn’t hesitate; his clothes are off in a fraction of the time it took for me to remove mine. I step into the hot water, allowing the warmth to seep through to my bones. It feels amazing, not only because it’s so chilly outside, but because I haven’t had a bath in two days. Gross.
Ben slides into the tub opposite me, his eyes never leaving mine. They start to glow a deep, rich amber, and that can only mean one thing—he’s completely turned on. Inwardly, I throw a victory party.
But I’m not finished yet.
Oh, he wanted to put on a show, so now he’s going to get what’s coming to him. I rise to my knees and progressively travel to where he sits, allowing him a full view of my exposed torso. Licking his lips, his eyes skim over my body, from head to waist and back up again. When he ogles me once more, there’s no denying the hunger.
“Candra,” he whispers hoarsely.
“Yes, baby?” I dip down and allow my lips to linger just above his. “Is this what you wanted?”
He shakes his head. “No, I want you.” His arms circle my waist so hastily, I react by squealing in surprise. Water sloshes in the tub, like waves crashing against a shore. Ben’s lips crush mine, reckless with passion, as if he’ll never have the chance to kiss me again. My skin prickles underneath his fingertips—even in the steaming water—as they caress my arms, the sides of my breasts, down, down, down my waist, my hips, my thighs, eventually trailing upward from my legs and settling on my rear. He digs his fingers in and yanks me closer. Inadvertently, I moan. Ben gently separates our lips. “Ah, Princess, do you know the affect you have on me?”
Words jumble in my mind, refusing to form on my tongue.