“Want to warm up in a bath?” he whispered. “There’s a huge tub in the master suite. I could work out all of your knots.” He dropped his hand to the nape of my neck and pressed, massaging me right where I realized I did have some sore, aching muscles. A bath would feel like heaven.
He stood up. “Come on.” He extended his hand, his black hair rumpled in an un-styled way I found even more appealing than his usual sexy coif. “Let me make you feel good.”
I knew I should still be stomping my foot, maybe even yelling at him. Last night I’d resolved that I needed some space, and here he’d up and stolen me away. To his remote and fabulous cabin in the midst of the wilderness where no one could find us. It was just the two of us. Hmm.
The slightest smidge of reluctance still slowing my movements, I placed my hand in his.
True to his word, the tub in the master bath was gigantic. Fit for a king, I’d never seen anything like it. He turned on the faucets and steaming water began flowing out, rapidly filling up the basin. Outside, the wind howled and the storm raged, but inside we were safe and warm.
Ash turned to me and slowly unzipped my borrowed hoodie, slipping it down over my shoulders. I was completely bare underneath it. I didn’t remember if I’d taken off my bra from last night or not, but then I stopped wondering as he slipped his hands inside my waistband and pulled down my pants. I stepped out in just my panties and I could tell by the way he looked at me, the way his breathing picked up, he wanted to do more than look. But he held back.
“Turn around,” he instructed me and with gentle hands, he caressed my back, hips. Then he slowly drew my panties down my thighs, down to my ankles.
“Why don’t you slip into the bath?” he suggested, his voice sounding husky. The water was already halfway full, steam rising from the surface. I couldn’t resist. Dipping in one foot, then the other, I sank down into heaven.
“Oh.” I exhaled, eyes closed, my body absolutely crying out for a soak. I ducked under, submerging every inch into the heat, before rising up again with a sigh of pleasure.
“Feel good?” he asked.
“Mmmm,” was all I could manage. I might have died and passed into the next world, the feeling was so relaxing, so soothing.
“Here, give me your foot.” Ash reached down and cupped one of my feet in the palm of his hand. I let him move me more than extended my foot to him, and he took my bliss to a whole new level, slowly massaging my foot with his deft fingers.
“Ooh.” I moaned as he pressed his thumbs into the center of my foot. Oh dear Lord, he was so good at touching me, every part of me. How could a woman stay angry at a man who fixed a roaring fire, made her dinner, drew her a bath and then massaged her feet? It was scientifically proven, the level of anger ran inversely proportionate to the level of pleasure. And just then pleasure flooded through me.
He moved to the other foot and I would have promised him anything, mountains of rubies, the Mediterranean Sea, all sorts of things I didn’t have and never would, just to keep him touching me that way. Maybe this whole kidnapping thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Around at the other end of the tub, Ash brought his hands to my wet shoulders. He drew my hair to the side and began to rub my aching muscles. I must have slept in all kinds of funny positions because every muscle in my back and neck cried out for attention. Ash gave it. With magic fingers, he pressed and pulled, kneaded and worked me until I felt so flush and pliant beneath his touch. All of the tensions dissolved straight out of me into the swirling mass of bubbles, and I leaned back into his touch.
“Still mad at me?” he asked in a low voice by my ear.
“I was going to go to New York.” I managed to not entirely cave immediately.
“You can’t go anywhere in this storm.”
“I could have flown out of Vegas.”
“Yes, but I wanted you all to myself.”
Now he started in on my scalp, massaging in some shampoo, working his fingers in circles, stroking my temples. Turned out thinking got even harder when a man did that.
“You didn’t like that party last night,” he murmured to me. What I’d found so troubling now sounded so soothing coming out of his mouth.
“It’s not my scene.” I pictured all the flash and glam, the showy see-and-be-seen vibe, the frenetic energy of everyone pushing for the spotlight.
“It’s not mine, either. Not anymore.” Ash’s voice felt nearly hypnotic, the light down low, the warm water swirling around my languid limbs. But what did he mean? He was a rock star. He strutted and posed better than anyone I’d ever seen.
“Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who you are,” I confessed, relaxation drawing pure honesty from me.
“Let me show you.”
He took a warm sprayer and rinsed my hair, then brought his hands back down to my shoulders, my back, my chest, rubbing, stroking, caressing, massaging.
“Ana,” he murmured, and his voice sounded so enticing, so deep and sexy I felt a low throb between my thighs. “There’s something I want to talk with you about. But I want you in the right headspace before I do.”
I felt so languid under his hands, so mesmerized by his touch, his nearness. Like he’d cast a spell on me, turning one sort of ache in my body into an entirely new sort. An ache nonetheless, but this ache felt so good.
“Yes, Ash.” I’d talk to him about anything.
“Are you ready to come out of the bath?”
I nodded and he helped me out, then wrapped me in a giant, soft towel. I dried my limbs and then he took it from me, leaving me pink and warm and entirely naked.
“Come with me.” He led me into the master bedroom. Huge and dark, he snapped on a soft lamp on the bedside table. The bed looked enormous, more than a king, with an elaborate headboard and large posts on all four corners. He pushed some of the dozens of pillows to the side, turned down the heavy satin comforter, and welcomed me into soft sheets.
I eased in, the sheets caressing my limbs. Still with his clothes on, he slipped in behind me, spooning my back to his front. With a long, luscious exhale, I sank back into him. I loved his masculine smell, the big, solid feel of him against me, the way we fit together, my ass back into his groin.
“Anika.” He breathed my name into my neck, kissing me there as I arched back my head. Licking, sucking, he kept it gentle, worshipping my skin. But against the soft skin of my buttocks I could feel his urgency, the hard, pressing need he still had zipped up in his pants. I wanted him out of them, the feel of his skin against mine, the heat we created once we both stripped down.
“It’s going to snow for days,” he whispered into my ear, licking the edge, sending shivers down the length of my body. Why did his words thrill me? Not long ago I’d been worried about flashlights. Now I hoped the storm would never end.
He brought his hand down to my hip and waist and caressed me, making me so aware of my soft, feminine curves against his solid, male hardness. I ground my ass back into his shaft and heard him suck in his breath, his fingers digging into my skin.
“You’re so responsive, Ana,” he praised me, continuing his explorations, weaving his fingers down my thighs, up my stomach, around my shoulder. My breathing quickened and I could feel heat building up in my core, my need for him starting to burn.
“It’s like your body was made for me.” He licked and kissed my shoulder, weaving his fingers along my waist, marking, worshipping every inch. So warm, so completely naked, I came alive under his fingers, slowly stroking, building. There in the dark, there was something so hot about the way he was holding me. Something so possessive, so carnal about the way he fastened my hip to his as he bit into my neck. I couldn’t see his face, didn’t know what he’d do next and it felt secret and naughty there in the dark, just the two of us.
I wanted more of him. I could feel the length of his cock pressing into my backside, the long, hard ridge teasing me, so close yet still under lock and key. One of my arms was pinned under my body, but the other one was free. Slowly, stealthily, I reached it back and found his hips. I grabbed onto him, pulling him against my ass at the same time as I ground back into him. There, like that, I showed him with my body how I wanted him to take me, from behind, just like that.
“Put your hand back on your thigh,” he growled, sounding harsh and commanding. Shocked, a little embarrassed, I did as he told me, removing my naughty hand and putting it back where it belonged. Chastened, I stilled my body.
>
“Anika.” His voice caressed me, his breath teasing my bare neck. “I want to teach you how good you can feel.” He dropped his mouth to my sensitive skin and gave me a slow lick, then murmured into me, “Do you want to feel good, baby?”
I practically melted into him with a sigh. But I kept my hand where he’d told me and part of me still felt on edge, that heightened awareness. Had he not liked it when I’d grabbed him?
“I love how much you want me,” he said, as if sensing my questions and offering reassurance. “It feels good when you show me how much you need me. Remember how you rode me last night?”
I felt heat flush through me, some shyness still mingling in there with the arousal of remembering how I’d attacked him backstage, grabbing his cock and shoving my pussy down onto every inch of him.
“That was good, Ana. Remember how I came?” I moaned as I did remember it, our sweat mingling, his deep groan, the way he’d clamped his hand over my mouth to muffle my own orgasmic cries. “I remember how you came on my cock.”
My pussy practically dripped at his words, visceral memory gripping my body. I could feel his long, hard cock still pushing into my behind, his tense, ready need there as he spoke. I wanted to push back into him again. But he’d stopped me last time. So I didn’t move.
“There’s a whole other kind of pleasure, Ana. Pleasure I want to introduce you to. But it comes from restraint.”
My mouth opened into a pant when he said the word. I didn’t know what he meant by it, but it conjured up visions, fantasies I’d had of being taken, controlled, bound. Was that what he meant?
He had one arm around me, under my head. He brought his large, rough palm to the top my chest, right at the base of my neck. The other hand he trailed along my curves, up, up, until he cupped my breast. I stilled under his touch, hyper-aware of it in the dark, wanting it so much more.
“Look down at your breast, Anika.” I looked down, my mouth agape with arousal. Even in the dim light I could see the contrast of our skin, my soft breast pale in his calloused fingers. “Keep your hand down at your side.” I hadn’t realized it, but my hand had started to inch over, closer to the inside of my thighs. I was so horny. I wanted to touch myself. He’d liked watching me do that once. I could make myself come so quickly, I knew I could. But right now, he wouldn’t let me. And for some reason that sent a new flood of heat straight to my sex.