lighter swath of pale skin was exposed where the sun hadn’t bronzed him. When the last button unsnapped, the waistband loosened and rustled over his narrow hips, snagging on the deliciously flexing muscles that formed the shape of an arrowhead.
Pointing right to…
Sarani’s breath fizzled.
“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice feathering across her overheated senses and jolting her into horrified action.
Mortified beyond belief—she was so going to kick her own arse later—Sarani reached over and grabbed a length of toweling, hurling herself over the far edge of the tub and averting her eyes just as he shucked those diabolical trousers to the floor. Lava-cheeked, she covered herself with the thin drying cloth and didn’t look, not even when she heard the sounds of water being disturbed. That didn’t stop the mental images from assaulting her.
She didn’t know which was worse—seeing the reality or fantasizing about it. Her brain, as it turned out, was deviously creative. Not that those thin trousers had afforded any dratted modesty. His sex had been large and thick and long.
Holy heavens, why was she fixating on his sex?
There should be no thoughts of sex, parts or the act thereof.
No sex, not his sex, never any sex, she chanted in her head.
Desperate to make a hasty exit without further humiliating herself, Sarani snatched up her discarded clothing and dragged her night rail over her damp body, nearly strangling herself with the ties. She made the mistake of turning around and immediately wished she hadn’t. Whereas the copper tub had almost hidden her from view, his bulk dwarfed it.
She tried not to look, truly she did. But holding on to any willpower was a lost cause, not when the duke sat like a pasha, in all magnificent indolence, his arms lazily draped over the edges and that powerful chest of his on mouthwatering display. Droplets clung to the hair there, dampening it to dark gold. One foot lay propped on the edge of the tub, the other beneath the water, exposing a thickly muscled calf.
Dear goddess of eternal fertility, why did he have to be so masculine? Five years ago, he’d been boyishly handsome, but now he was simply devastating…exuding leashed power and a raw virility that left her body in flames and her usually sensible mind in ashes.
As a sailor, couldn’t he have had scurvy? Loose teeth and bulging eyes? Maybe a harelip or a peg leg? Was that too much to ask?
But no—his lips were perfect, his legs were in fine muscular form, and his storm-colored eyes…well, she’d never stood any lick of defense against them. Not five years ago, and not now, when he was hip-deep in a bath and bare as he was born, staring at her with a sensual smirk on his lips.
Those mercurial eyes of his glittered when her gaze finally returned to his. “Changed your mind on staying?” he asked. “I won’t hold it against you if you did. Or I might, if you insist.”
Sarani couldn’t handle the playful lilt of his voice, much less make sense of his words, not while he was so…so dratted naked.
“Hold what against me?” she mumbled, her brain fighting to keep up.
“What you’ve been devouring with your eyes.”
Her face scorched. “You are…insufferable.”
“So I’ve been told by my very sassy cabin boy.” He lifted a golden eyebrow, a smirk playing over his lips. “Speaking of cabin boys, did your gossiping cronies inform you that a traditional duty is assistance during a bath?”
Sarani’s knees nearly buckled at the idea of touching him. Of putting her hands on those acres upon acres of glistening skin. She wanted her hands on him, her lips on him, her tongue… Gracious, her mouth actually watered at the thought. She wondered whether all those muscles were as hard as they looked. If it was a cabin boy’s job, then it was her duty to do it, wasn’t it? For the sake of devoted cabin boys everywhere. She’d turned and almost taken a half step back toward him before she came to her rioting senses.
Oh, get it together, you bean-brained hussy.
She should stand her ground. Cut him dead like the royal she was. Flay him alive with the whip of her tongue. But her stupid, shameless tongue had apparently decided to mutiny. It had other ideas instead of sensible speech…ideas that involved licking and sucking and a variety of lewd things that defied decency or morality.
Her mouth went dry at her wicked thoughts of tasting him there.
Squaring her shoulders, she met his