Dumping my clothes into the laundry basket, I pull out my beautiful kimono robe, grateful Remy’s housekeeper thought to pack it. When Rhett sauntered into the house the first afternoon we were here, I’d flinched, noticing the familiar suitcase in his hand. He’d dumped it down, along with a masculine looking leather weekend bag, and announced he’d visited our apartments and packed us both clothes to save us the trouble.
Great!
Actually, not great at all. I’d almost choked at the thought of Rhett selecting clothes for me, of him thumbing through my underwear drawer. Worse still, of him finding the Pussy Pounder 2000.
Like I’d ever live that down.
I couldn’t even use a lethal weapon defence, not without opening a whole other can of big-ass worms. But as it turns out, Remy’s housekeeper had packed my bag, and very thoughtfully too, because she’d included my gorgeous kimono. One of my first gifts from Remy.
The silk is heavenly against my skin, and it’s so glamorous, I feel like a silver screen goddess in it. As I slip it on, it makes me want to float around my boudoir. But again, timing issues.
I twist up my hair then carry a couple of fluffy towels into the bathroom, my insides bubbling with nervous anticipation. The good kind of nervous. The excited kind. The kind of nervous that makes a girl feel like she’s balanced on the precipice of something great.
‘Are we having a Wiccan gathering?’
I pivot at the deep sound of Remy’s voice to find him standing at the open doorway, the shape of him framed by the light from the bedroom.
‘Well, I am all about the glow,’ I reply, eyeing the dozen candles I’ve placed strategically around the room. I think it looks kind of sexy, and the smell of scented oil rising up from the hot bathwater is heavenly. I place one towel on the floor next to the bath, the other folded over the lip of the tub near the top. To make it more comfortable for his head. ‘But any more nonsense from you,’ I add, moving to the vanity to ostensibly tidying my hair in the mirror, ‘and I’ll offer you up as a sacrifice.’
‘I thought you needed a virgin for such dark arts. I’m sorry to say that ship sailed more than twenty years ago.’
‘You have not been having sex for twenty years.’
In the mirror, Remy smirks as he sidles up behind me. Maybe because slack-jawed isn’t a good look. But he lost his virginity at the age of fourteen? Yikes.
‘You know what they say.’ His arms envelop my waist as he presses his lips to the place my neck and shoulder meet. ‘Practice makes perfect. No complaints because you, ma Rose, get to reap the benefits of my early corruption.’
‘Is that so?’ I try to suppress a shiver.
‘I’m not sure about so, but it is a promise. And one I intend to keep.’ Flames dance in the mirror, sparking off the copper bath, bringing out the highlights in his hair, his eyes like green glass. ‘We’re bathing together, are we?’
I turn my head as though only just realising there’s a tub full of water behind us. I’m not distracted for long as his mouth returns and I gasp as his hand slips between the gaping sides of my robe. He holds the soft fullness of my breast in his hand, and I find I have to stifle a whimper as his thumb lightly brushes the already hardened bud of my nipple.
‘I love how sensitive you are,’ he whispers in that velvet voice of his, clever fingers beginning to tease. A soft swipe, a firm pinch, a kiss, a whisper of breath blowing the soft hairs on the nape of my neck, and the line between kindness and cruelty melts my body against his. He presses his whole length against me, hard and unyielding.
‘You’re spoiling my plans,’ I complain, even as I’m pulling his head closer to press my breast into his hand.
‘Shouldn’t we at least get a little dirty before our sins are washed clean?’
He finds his answer in a sensitive spot under my ear, a place that seems to be inextricably linked to the point pulsing between my legs. I arch, my hand slipping between us to feel his want of me, our joint moans resounding through the heat-filled room. My arm curved around his neck, I pull his mouth down to meet mine in a kiss, a kiss that can’t claim any kind of finesse. We’re greedy, teeth clashing and tongues swiping, need colliding with need. It’s a kiss that’s wet, hot, and long overdue. A kiss that would easily lead to other things as his free hand slips to my thigh.
‘What are you doing?’ I still his hand with my own. I feel his smile curving against my shoulder and his lack of restraint pressed at the small of my back.