Northern Rebel Daring in the Dark - By Jennifer Labrecque Page 0,96
about a nice icy shower? But he’d get by with a cool cloth. “Sure.”
He stepped through the dark doorway to his left, the candle illuminating a rectangular room with a small, high window. A claw-foot tub with a circular shower curtain pushed to one side sat beneath the window. The mirror over the sink reflected his light and brightened the bathroom.
Simon sucked in a deep breath as her hip and breast brushed his side, her fingers sliding along his back as she squeezed past him in the confines.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“No problem.”
She placed her votive on a small shelf next to the sink. Thick, fluffy towels and washcloths sat neatly folded in an open cabinet. She plucked two cloths from the stack and held them under the cold-water tap.
Simon waited beside the sink, next to the door. She squeezed excess water from the cloth and passed one to him.
He ran it over his heated face and watched Tawny do the same. She slid the cloth over her neck, rolling her head to one side and then the other. A half moan, half sigh escaped her. “How good does this feel?” she asked, her voice low, husky, intimate.
“It’s somewhere past good.” Icy droplets trickled down his throat, raising gooseflesh. It wouldn’t surprise him to hear the water sizzle on his skin. She definitely had him hot and bothered. The cloth might be cooling him down, but she was heating him right back up.
“Here. Let me wet it again.” She took his cloth and held it under the cold faucet. She held it out to him dripping wet.
Simon set his candle on the widest portion of the sink and took the cloth from her, his fingers brushing hers in the exchange. The brief contact fired through him.
“Have you ever been this hot before?” she asked. “If I spontaneously combust, douse me with water to put out the flames.”
Simon had no idea where it came from, but he ran with his impulse. “Like this?” he asked. He stepped closer and squeezed the cloth, cascading water over her shoulder.
She gasped, whether at the shock of the cool water or at his audacity or perhaps both, and then laughed. “Oh, you...”
“Or like this?” He sent another round of droplets skittering down her back, bared by her top.
“Maybe more like this.” She reached up and squeezed her cloth at the base of this throat, sending a cool stream down the front of his T-shirt.
He laughed and retaliated. She shrieked and didn’t bother with the washcloth, cupping her hands beneath the water and tossing it his way. Within seconds they were both drenched. One of them, their aim so bad, doused the big candle. It sputtered out and ended their water play. Only the small votive flickered, plunging them into intimacy.
“Oops,” Tawny said. “That was fun.”
Her hair hung drunkenly from its clip. Water sparkled against her skin. The cold water had her nipples standing at full attention against the wet material of her shirt. Simon swallowed hard and looked her in the eyes. Just don’t look back down.
He cleared his throat. “It was fun.”
He had no idea he could be so playful. Water fights had never happened in his house. Hell, fun hadn’t happened in his house. His parents had taken their jobs and life very seriously. They still did.
She grabbed a towel off of the stack and he reached for it. She bypassed his hand and instead began to rub his wet hair herself.
“I can do that myself,” he said.
“I know.” She gentled the towel along his jaw, slid the thick, soft cotton down the column of his throat. “But there, I’ve taken care of it.”
She took a step back and, using the same towel, blotted her face. Simon held out his hand and she gave the towel over to him.
“I can do this myself,” she said, echoing his earlier declaration.
“I know.” He eased the towel over the length of her neck, across the delicate line of her collarbone, into the valley created by her breasts. Simon made sure only the cotton cloth touched her skin. He moved behind her and slowly, carefully dried her shoulders and the expanse of sweet skin along her spine. He knelt on one knee and drew the towel along her thighs, the backs of her knees, her calves.
“Turn around for me.”
She pivoted slowly and he once again slid the towel the length of her legs, the material whispering over her skin.