behind my neck and combs his fingers through it. “Let me run you a bath. Come on.”
Without waiting for an objection, he takes my hand and leads me into the master bathroom. He sits me down on the closed toilet seat, moving to turn on the bath water. After pouring in some lavender scent and bubbles, he turns his attention back to me, pulling me to stand up. Ten long fingers grasp the hem of my tee, his eyes asking for permission. I nod my head, and he pulls the shirt slowly up, baring my soft, pale flesh to him. He lifts it over my head, over my raised arms, and drops it to the floor. Running his hands along my bare skin, he reaches behind me and works the clasp of my bra, dragging the straps from my shoulders and down my arms. The black bra joins my shirt somewhere on the floor.
The urge to cover myself comes on strong, but something about the tender way he’s undressing me causes my rampant thoughts to relax.
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he reaches the button of my jeans, popping it open and slowly tugging the zipper down. He drops down to his knees, slipping his hands into the waistband of my pants and underwear. Slowly, he pulls his hands downward taking my remaining clothing with them. I grasp his shoulders as I step out of my bottoms, one leg at a time, until I am standing entirely naked in front of him.
He presses one open-mouthed, chaste kiss to my thigh before rising to his feet, grasping one of my hands in each of his. He lifts his right hand, urging me to step into the bathtub and helps me lower myself into the deliciously hot water.
I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of the water lapping at my tired muscles. I hear, rather than see, him turn off the faucet before he starts to shed his own clothing. Not wanting to miss a delectable minute of the strip show, I crack my eyelids open and peer up at him through my lashes.
Slowly, so slowly, he undoes the buttons of his shirt, unaware I am watching him. He pops the last button through its hole before slipping his arms out of the rolled up sleeves, hanging his shirt behind the bathroom door. Grasping the back of his tee, he pulls it over his head, dropping it to the floor. His pants follow suit. In one swift move, they join the pile of clothes along with his boxers. He is standing, for the first time, completely and gloriously naked in front of me. My eyes lustfully drink him in, every ridge, every muscle, and every line of perfection. He looks down in the tub, catching me staring. He grins before climbing into the sudsy water behind me.
Reaching forward, he pulls my back against his chest before running his hands over my heated skin. He cups water in his large palms, dripping it along my neckline. The droplets run down over my collarbone, to my breasts, joining the other molecules once more in the tub. His thumbs begin kneading my neck, his fingers digging into the most sensitive spots along my shoulder blades and spine. I can’t help the groan that slips from my throat when he kisses the spot between my neck and shoulder.
He grabs a washcloth I didn’t notice before, pouring some soap on and begins washing my body. Starting with my back, he works his way around to the front, soaping my breasts and stomach as he goes, never lingering in one place too long. He slips the cloth between my legs briefly before hitching my leg in the air to run the soft cloth down my calves to my toes. He repeats with the other leg, setting it back into the water when he’s finished.
The air around us charges with this high-energy tension, as if the electrons are bouncing back and forth between us carrying our emotions with them. We don’t speak the entirety of the bath. The two of us lay comfortably with one another until the water starts to chill, and my eyelids begin to close. Elias helps me stand, wraps us both in big, green, fluffy towels, and carries me to his bedroom.
With our skin dry, we shed our towels and crawl into bed together. I lay my head against his naked chest while he wraps his arms around me, one around my back and the