Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [50]
“Help yourself to whatever you need,” he said, walking away from her toward the linen closet. “Towels are in here.” Grabbing one, he turned around, prepared to hand it to her.
But nothing, God in heaven, nothing could have prepared him for what he’d find.
Lottie stood there beside the tub, her hair loosely piled on her head with a few long curls trailing across her cheeks to brush her shoulders.
Her bare shoulders.
She was completely naked, her beautiful, curvy body perfectly illuminated by the flicker of light from the fireplace. Enveloped by steam, she was like some mythical being stepping out of the mist. Perfectly shaped, from her long, graceful neck, her delicate throat, to her smooth shoulders. Those unbelievable breasts topped with hard, rosy nipples. Her waist was slim, her hips generous. A tiny tuft of curls appeared between her creamy thighs, and the perfection continued straight down to her toes.
She was like the epitome of woman brought to life by an artist working with the most valuable, ethereal clay.
“I think I need someone to scrub my back,” she murmured, her tone so sultry, her meaning so clear, it made his blood turn into lava in his veins.
She lifted her hand, reaching for him. “Will you?”
“Lottie…”
“You are not alone anymore. And I don’t want to be alone anymore, either. Not when we can do so much for each other.”
Lottie bent down and turned off the faucet, revealing more of that perfect body. The slimness of her waist, the generous curve of her hip. Rising, she smiled and drew in a deep breath. “I think my bath’s ready.”
He couldn’t force a word past his lips.
Delicately stepping over the side of the large clawfoot tub, she hissed a little at the heat of the water. Slowly lowering herself, her hiss turned into a purr of delight.
Simon almost echoed it as he watched her begin to disappear beneath the bubbly surface, inch by inch. She stared at him, confidently, obviously seeing the sweat breaking out on his forehead as it became more and more impossible to hide his hunger.
“Umm, warm,” she said as she stretched lethargically. She sunk lower, beneath the bubbles, her bent knees rising above them. Parted.
The tops of her round breasts remained just above the water as well, a few bubbles clinging to the taut nipples, begging to be kissed off.
She dropped a hand on her chest, sliding it down until it disappeared beneath the foamy white layer concealing most of her glorious form from his gaze.
“Yes, I’ll definitely need someone to help me with my back,” she whispered, licking her lips and never taking her eyes off him. “So tell me, Simon. Will you stay?” Lifting her hand, she trickled some soapy water on her upraised knee, lifting that endless length of toned leg high and resting her foot on the side of the tub.
“Please, Simon. Stay.”
9
Lottie
I’VE BEEN ACCUSED of being many things in my life—bossy, hardheaded, loyal, mouthy and determined among them. But no one has ever accused me of being subtle.
This moment would surely put the exclamation point on that declaration.
As I sat in the bubbling, hot water, hiding my hint of nervousness behind sheer bravado born of outright hunger, I couldn’t help wondering what was going through Simon’s mind. Was he shocked? Surprised?
Please, not disgusted.
I didn’t accept his offer of the use of his bathroom intending to strip naked and practically beg the man to make love to me. In fact, the thought hadn’t even occurred to me until I was returning from my room, my bathrobe and toiletries in hand.
Seeing him standing there, testing the water, his thick, nearly black hair glimmering in the low light, made the vague idea an imperative compulsion. I’d stripped off my clothes, as if in a daze. Focusing only on how much—how very much—I wanted him, I’d put aside all question and doubt, embarrassment and modesty.
And now I waited, exposed and vulnerable, wearing my desire on my face and making no effort to hide anything I was feeling.