"I don't faint," I said.
His face leaned down over mine. "So glad to hear it." He kissed me lightly, a brush of lips, but even that small movement made my stomach jerk.
I gasped and pushed him away. He fell into the tub, going completely under, only his feet sticking out. He landed on my na**d body, and I screamed.
He came up for air, his long, black hair streaming around his face, across his shoulders. He looked as surprised as I'd ever seen him. He crawled off me, mainly because I was shoving at him. He struggled to his feet. Water streamed down his body. He stared down at me. I was huddled against the side, staring up at him, pissed.
He shook his head and laughed. The sound filled the room, played along my skin like a hand. "I have been a lady's man for nearly three hundred years, Anita. Why is it only with you that I am awkward?"
"Maybe it's a hint," I said.
"Perhaps."
I stared up at him. He stood there, knee deep in bubble bath. He was soaking wet and should have been ridiculous, but he wasn't. He was beautiful.
"How can you be so damn beautiful when I know what you are?"
He knelt in the water. The bubbles covered his waist, so he looked naked. Water trailed down his chest in fine beads. I wanted to run my hands over him. I wanted to lick the water off his skin. I drew my legs to my chest and locked my arms around them, not trusting myself.
He moved towards me. The water sloshed and curled around my na**d body. He stayed kneeling, so close that his jeans brushed my huddled legs. The feel of him in the water, that close, made me hide my face against my knees. The pounding of my heart gave me away. I knew he could taste my need on the air.
"Tell me to go, ma petite, and I will go." I felt him lean over me, his face just above my wet hair.
Slowly, I raised my face.
He placed a hand on the tub edge, one arm on either side of me, bringing his chest dangerously close to my face. I watched the water bead on his skin, the way that he sometimes watched blood on mine: a need almost too overwhelming to deny, an urge so complete that I didn't want to say no.
I unclenched my arms from my knees and leaned forward. I whispered, "Don't go." I touched hands to his waist, tentative, as if it should burn, but his skin was cool under the slickness of water. Cool and smooth to the touch. I glanced up at his face and knew that there was something close to fear on my own face.
His face was lovely, and uncertain, as if he didn't know what to do next. It was a look I never thought to see on Jean-Claude's face when I was na**d in his arms.
I kept my eyes on his face as I moved my mouth towards his stomach. I ran my tongue over his skin, a quick, tentative movement.
He sighed, eyes fluttering shut, body almost sagging. I pressed my mouth against his skin, drinking the water off of him. I couldn't reach his chest. I moved to my knees, hands steadying me against his slender waist.
The air was cool against my na**d br**sts. Kneeling had bared them. I froze, suddenly unsure. I wanted desperately to see his face and was afraid to look up.
His fingertips brushed my shoulders, sliding down the wet skin. I shivered and glanced up. The look on his face caught my breath in my throat. Tenderness, need, amazement.
"You are so beautiful, ma petite." He put his fingertips to my lips before I could protest. "You are beautiful. On this I do not lie."
His fingers moved across my lips, down my chin. He slid his hands to my shoulders, down my back, in slow, teasing lines. His hands stopped on either side of my waist, mirroring my hands on his own waist.
"Now what?" My voice was a little breathless.
"Whatever you like, ma petite."
I massaged my hands against his waist, feeling the flesh underneath, feeling him under my hands. I spread my hands wide, splaying my fingers tense against his skin, dragging my hands up his ribs.
He kneaded his fingers into my waist, pressing his hands against my ribs. He inched his hands upward along my sides. Strong fingers pressed into my skin just enough to make me sigh. He stopped with his thumbs below my br**sts. His touch was feather light, almost not touching at all. But that one small brush of his skin against my br**sts made my body react, tightening, ni**les hardening. My body wanted him. Wanted him so badly that my skin felt large and aching with the thought of it.
My own hands were pressed against his chest. I realized that he was still mirroring me, waiting for me to move.
I stared up into his face. I searched that beauty, those dark eyes. There was no pull to them, no power, except the thick black line of his lashes, and the rich color like the sky just before darkness swallows the world when you think all is black, but there in the west is a shade of blue, dark and rich as ink. Beauty had its own power.
I slid my hands up his chest, fingers brushing across his ni**les. I stared at his face while I did it, heart pounding in my throat, breath coming too fast.
His hands slid upward, cupping my br**sts. The touch of his hands made me gasp. He scooted lower in the water, still touching me. He bent over my br**sts and laid a gentle kiss on them. He licked the water off my skin, lips working gently.