When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(37)

“How kind of you.”

Max grinned and settled back in the tub, sighing as the scalding water engulfed his strained muscles. He slitted his eyes, looking like a lazy tomcat in the sunshine. “You could at least hand me the soap, ma petite.” A smile touched his lips as he added provokingly, “Be brave, will you?”

Lysette was not one to back down from a challenge. And her curiosity far outweighed her apprehension. “Certainly, mon mari.” She picked up the cake of soap and sniffed it, detecting the scent of lemongrass.

Max levered himself upward, exposing his broad sinewy back. Again she was reminded of a tomcat, silently demanding to be petted.

Lysette’s stomach tightened pleasurably. “Why not? I’ll scrub your back, mon mari. But you will have to do the rest yourself.” She pushed her sleeves above her elbows as she approached the tub. The water was clear beneath the ascending steam, affording her a view of the rampant erection beneath the water. Although she tried not to react to the startling sight, a flush spread upward to her hairline.

Max arched a brow, as if expecting a virginal scream of hysterical surprise. Lysette continued around the tub until she stood behind him. “That looks painful,” she commented.

He tilted his head back to look at her upside down. “For me, or for you?”

Lysette couldn’t help but smile at the provocative question, while the heat of her blush intensified. “For both of us, I would guess.”

Reserving comment, Max leaned forward once more. Lysette immersed her hands in the water and rubbed the soap between them, until the tart scent of lemongrass filled the air. Setting the soap aside, she began to spread the creamy substance over his back, her fingers molding over the hard indentations of muscle and the thick ridge of his spine. Rivulets of water and soap coursed down his tanned skin.

It seemed unspeakably intimate to wash his hair, but she did that as well, her soapy fingers working through the dark wet locks and scrubbing the scalp underneath. Max enjoyed her ministrations unabashedly. Lysette rose to her feet to tip the bucket of fresh water over his head, rinsing the suds away.

Carefully she set the bucket down, while Max raked the wet locks back from his forehead. His water-spiked lashes lifted as he gazed at her. “Why don’t you join me in here?”

The suggestion surprised and aroused Lysette. A sweet ache blossomed in her chest, spreading to the tips of her br**sts until they tightened into sensitive points. When she managed to speak, her throat felt thick and tingling, as if she had been drinking warm honey.

“There’s not enough room for two,” she said.

“There is if we sit close enough.” When Lysette remained still, Max leaned over to her. His mouth found a vulnerable spot on her throat, and he licked and nibbled gently. She drew in a quick breath, her throat moving against the masculine scrape of his jaw. The world seemed to topple slowly, as if she were inside some vast crystal bowl that rolled languidly on its side.

As Lysette reached out in a bid for balance, one of her hands came to rest on the furry surface of his chest. Her fingers sank into a mat of hot waterlogged curls. Her thumb rested on the silken edge of his nipple… She couldn’t stop herself from stroking until it contracted into a hard point. Max made a low sound and slid one hand around the back of her head. She let him pull her mouth to his, and he kissed her with lazy hunger.

Pleasure swirled over her, her skin alive to the slightest touch. She opened her mouth dreamily, letting him explore her with slow strokes of his tongue. She did not protest as he took her hand and guided it beneath the water. Hot as the bath was, it was nothing compared to the searing heat of his arousal.

Her fingers were pliable, obedient, curving around the heavy masculine length of him. He felt nothing like she had expected. His skin was like thin satin that had been stretched tightly over the hardness of his shaft. Her hand drifted over the shape of him, exploring delicately beneath the water. Max continued to kiss her, his breath striking hard against her cheek, and the awareness of his growing excitement made her feel dizzy and drunk.

Lysette leaned forward to press closer to him, until the front of her dress was soaked and the rim of the tub dug hard into her middle. It was only that burgeoning pain that recalled her to her senses. She winced and pulled back, panting heavily.

Max’s face was at once relaxed and intent, his lashes half lowered over eyes that burned with dark heat. Lysette blinked and rubbed her wet hands over her face.

Max reached out and brushed his thumb over a water droplet that was working its way lazily down her cle**age. “Kiss me again,” he murmured.

Lysette laughed shakily and struggled to her feet, while the soaked front of her gown made her shiver. “I think you’ve had quite enough of me for today, monsieur.”

He stood in the tub, water cascading down his aroused body in shimmering streams. “If I’d had enough of you, ma petite, I wouldn’t look like this.”

Lysette whirled away with a gasp. She felt him make a swipe at her, and she eluded him nimbly. A burst of agitated giggles escaped her. “Don’t you dare, Max! Don’t touch me!”

He climbed from the tub and stalked after her, while she flew to the door. Her hand closed around the painted porcelain knob as it occurred to her that she could not run through the house in this waterlogged condition. Neither could she retreat to her room to change, as the housemaids were probably still occupied with sweeping the carpet and changing the linens. “Now, Max,” she said in a reasonable tone, still facing away from him, “enough of this. I’ll fetch you a towel and—”