“Never happened,” he rumbled in warning. “I might be outnumbered, but I’m smart. And crafty. And strong.”
Before she even felt him move he tugged, nearly dunking her under the wash of spicy-scented bubbles. She came up spluttering as he pulled her feet apart and drew her towards him till there was nothing to do but straddle his thighs and grab his big shoulders.
“Evidently,” she said, settling. The hairs of his legs rasped against all too sensitive skin.
She wiped the bubbles from her hair, and twisted the length over her shoulder.
Nate’s eyes followed the movement, changing to a darker shade of heaven as he watched the trail of water wavering down her collarbone, over the rise of her breasts where bubbles slid south. His knees lifted, pressing her forward, nudging her centre against the thickness of his.
“What was it like?” she asked. “Growing up with sisters.”
As soon as the words came out of her mouth she stilled, waiting for him to shut down. For the worshipping touch of his eyes to cloud over.
“Loud,” he said, surprising her.
Saskia breathed out.
“I’m not sure if it’s a female thing, or a Mackenzie female thing, but no matter how I laid down the law they could never keep their hands off my stuff.”
Saskia didn’t have any sisters to compare them to, but she thought of Lissy, of the pieces of Lissy’s clothing hanging in her closet, the books and DVDs of hers lost in the depths of Lissy’s apartment. “Female thing, I think. Bonding, perhaps? Nesting, maybe?”
“What was it like growing up with no sisters?”
“Quiet.”
He cocked a half smile.
“Especially when my father would have preferred to spend a beautiful spring day in the university library rather than playing in a park.”
“And what was she like? Your mother?”
“Dad didn’t talk about her much. Only when he saw her in me. When I was acting ‘too colourful,’ as he put it.”
“He never married again?”
“He never married at all. From the bits and pieces I managed to gather I came to think of my mum as a free spirit—his one brief shining moment and his cautionary tale.” She’d seen them try though—students, fellow scholars, even a Dean or two, but her clever, handsome, distant father had remained impassive. Married to his work, they’d all sigh, only Saskia had seen the rare flashes of pain that would pass over his eyes when he looked at her, as if he was seeing her mother...the one who ruined him for all others. And knowing it, she’d tried harder to make it all better.
“I at least had my dad till I was into my teens. Long enough to identify what it meant to be a man,” he said, surprising her again.
Saskia swallowed at his words. At the thought of a boy of fifteen having to take on that mantle. When his eyes found hers, she said, “It was what it was. Maybe easier because I never knew any different.”
“Maybe. Now, promise me...”
Anything. “Mmm?”
“Not a single thing we’ve done together had better end up in that damnable pink thing of yours.”
“Hmm...” His eyes connected with hers, a smile curling at the corner of his sensuous mouth.
Then his hands left her hips to dig into the flesh at her waist. Saskia’s eyes fluttered shut, her mouth tipping open as he rocked her forward, creating the most gorgeous pressure inside her.
But her head was filled with so many more questions. About his childhood, his family, his relationships, his choices. How they’d all intertwined to make him who he was. To keep him from getting close to someone special. Because whether it was the water, the lethargy, the bubbles, the fact that they hadn’t stopped touching one another for even half a second, something had relaxed him, given him ease.
When his hand lifted to run down her torso, from collarbone to belly, the questions fled. When he took her hips, his thumbs sweeping her inner thighs, she struggled to remember her own name.
He lifted to kiss her neck, nip at her shoulder, to draw her wet nipple into his mouth. His hand moved between them, sliding along her seam with gorgeous restraint. Another finger followed, with less restraint, and while a minute before she would have considered herself spent, from one heartbeat to the next she felt drenched with desire. Her eyes were unseeing, her breath a mere instinct. She wrapped her arms around his head, pressed against him, took his fingers inside as he held her tight, and rode the arc of exquisite need.
There was that word again.
“Nate?” she whispered.
“Shhh...” he said, before taking her mouth with his, his hot, slick lips feeding her the most devastating kisses of her life.