were in Burma.”
Sullivan didn’t speak of the war often, and she wanted to ask questions. Was that other soldier a friend? Had he returned alongside Sullivan or had he been one of the many casualties? She didn’t know how to ask, though, so she took the simple way out of that conversation and brought it back to her cataloguing of her features. “My hair is neither brunette nor red. Rather it is an odd mix of the two.”
“Your hair is the color of cinnamon and I’ve never quite figured out if I think you smell of cinnamon because of that or if you do, in fact, smell of cinnamon.”
She closed her eyes, allowing herself to hear his words.
He leaned so close to her ear. “Perfect,” he whispered.
Gooseflesh scattered over her body. Her nipples tightened and she felt slippery between her thighs, a dampness that had nothing to do with the water. “It’s cloves, actually, but similar to cinnamon. It’s in my hair rinse.” His erection pressed against her back; a metal rod against her sensitive flesh.
Again his hands caressed her breasts, plucking at her tender nipples. “Any other complaints about yourself?”
“My teeth. I hate the gap between my front teeth.”
“Your smile, when you give it freely, lights up a room. That gap is charming and endearing and unique, and all you. All of these supposed imperfections meld together to form you, Tilly, my wife. I love the way you look. I think you are beautiful.” He ground himself against her from behind. “And I desire you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman.”
“Then I guess it bodes well for you that I’m your wife.”
“You saucy minx, I suppose it does.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck, running his nose up to her ear. “Do you believe me?”
She thought of his words, of all of his arguments against her silly complaints. Her skin warmed, despite the water beginning to cool. She could not deny the physical evidence of his arousal. “I shall consider your words.”
He grabbed the sponge off the tray to the side of the tub and rubbed the soap into it. Then he ran it up her spine and across her shoulders. The soap smelled of him. Sandalwood and pine, perhaps. She allowed him to bathe her as she further pondered his words. She knew she wasn’t beautiful. Her own mother had told her she’d never be a beauty. It was possible, though, that he found her attractive enough to want her. It might not make her beautiful, but she could pretend he believed her to be.
She shivered as he ran the water-soaked sponge over her to rinse off the suds. “It’s getting cold.”
“Indeed. Let us get out of this cooling water so I can rut you properly.”
His wicked words were as effective as an intimate caress. She whimpered and felt her sex clench with need.
…
Sullivan stood from the tub and stepped out.
Then he helped Tilly out. What a ridiculous notion, her not seeing her own beauty. No, she wasn’t classically beautiful like her sister or Agnes, but Tilly’s beauty was original and surprising—a bold and vibrant bloom against the starkness of winter. More than likely he could attribute her view of herself to her sister’s vitriol. He’d witnessed Melanie, on more than one occasion, insult Tilly. Though the older woman tended to mask her words cleverly so they almost sounded like compliments instead of the cruelty they were. It was a ridiculous game women played.
He wrapped a towel around Tilly, then led her over to the bed. “Would you like to know another benefit of you being taller than most women?”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I suppose.”
“I do think you’ll like this one.” He rubbed the towel against her body, wicking off the remaining moisture, then he quickly toweled himself off. God, he was hard. Like a damned pipe. He seemed to be in a perpetual state of arousal ever since he’d married her. Hell, since they’d spent that fateful night together at the inn. That night when he’d touched her bare breast the first time. And he hadn’t been able to get her out from under his skin since then. As if by simply touching her naked flesh, she’d branded herself upon him.
He slid his hands up her back and she shivered under his touch. He bent her body so that she pressed into the mattress. “From this position, I can stand behind you.” He swept a hand up her