Worth Any Price (Bow Street Runners #3)(49)

Nick shook his head. "After a while, Gemma believed there was nothing more to be gained on either side by continuing the arrangement. I've since come to realize that she was right. And I haven't slept with anyone else, until you. So you see, I don't have a problem keeping my trousers buttoned."

A tide of relief swept over her. Just why she was so pleased at the notion that she might be able to keep him all to herself was not something she wished to ponder too closely. Leaving the bed, she hurried to pick up her discarded dress from the floor, and held it over her front. "I will admit that I am surprised," she said, trying to appear casual with her nudity. "You are certainly not predictable in any regard."

He approached her and closed his hands over her bare shoulders. "Neither are you," he replied. "I never expected to receive such pleasure from a rank novice." Taking the dress from her hands, Nick dropped it to the floor and pressed her body against the velvet front of his robe. Her skin tingled at the plush softness that caressed her from br**sts to knees. "Maybe it's because you're mine," he mused, his hand covering her pale, round breast. "No one's ever belonged to me before."

Lottie smiled wryly. "You make me sound like a horse you've just bought."

"A horse would have been cheaper," he replied, and grinned as she attacked him in mock outrage.

She pounded at his chest, and he twisted her wrists neatly behind her back, causing her br**sts to thrust forward. "Save your strength," he advised, smiling against her hair. Releasing her wrists, he rubbed the small of her back with one hand. "You must be sore. I'll draw a hot bath for you. When you finish, we'll have something to eat."

A hot bath would be wonderful. However, the thought of lacing herself into a corset and dressing for dinner was distinctly unappealing.

"Shall I have a supper tray sent up here?" Nick asked.

"Yes," Lottie said immediately and gave him a quizzical glance. "How do you do that? You always seem to know what I'm thinking."

"Your face shows everything." Removing his robe, he placed it around her, the heavy velvet warming her with the lingering heat of his body.

"I've only eaten in my bedroom once, when I was ill," she told him as he tied the robe around her. "And that was years ago."

Nick bent to whisper in her ear. "My passionate bride...later I'll show you that the bedroom is the best possible place to dine."

He bathed her himself, kneeling by the tub with the sleeves of his robe rolled up to reveal the wet, dark hair of his forearms. Eyes half-closed, Lottie let her gaze drift from the tanned column of his throat to the dark hair that filled the open vee of his robe. He was such a robustly masculine creature, and yet he touched her with incongruous gentleness. Veils of steam rose from the water, making the air hot and iridescent. She felt drugged with heat and sensuality as his strong, soapy hands glided into the intimate places of her body.

"Does it hurt here?" he asked, his fingers slipping over the swollen entrance of her sex.

"A little." She leaned back against his arm, her head lolling on the polished wooden rim of the huge porcelain bathtub.

Nick kneaded lightly with his fingertips, as if he could heal her with his touch. "I tried to be gentle."

"You were," she managed to say, her thighs floating apart.

Nick's thick lashes lowered as he stared at the shimmering blur of her body beneath the water. His handsome features were carved with such severity that his face could have been molded from bronze. The edge of his rolled-up sleeve dragged in the water, the velvet turning hot and sodden.

"I won't ever hurt you again," he said. "That's a promise."

Lottie caught her breath as he parted the tender folds between her thighs and investigated the fragile plumpness they had concealed. Her h*ps lifted, while her hands fought for purchase on the slippery surface of the tub. He slid a supportive arm behind her back, holding her securely.

"Lean back," he murmured. "Let me pleasure you."

No, she thought skeptically, not in a bathtub, with a thick wall of porcelain between them. But she relaxed in his hold and opened for him as his free arm moved across her body. She grasped his wrist lightly, feeling the movement of tendons and muscles as he ran his thumb over each side of her vulva. He rubbed the silken flanges of her inner lips together, his touch tender and light. Softly he spread her, stroking his middle fingertip along the tender seam, brushing the rosy nub of her sex each time. He smiled slightly as he saw bright patches of color appear on her face and chest. "The Chinese call this the jewel terrace," he whispered. Gently his finger slipped inside her, advancing only an inch, circling softly. "And here, the lute strings...and here..." He reached to the most secret recesses of her body. "The flower heart. Does it hurt when I touch you this way?"

"No," she gasped.

His lips brushed her ear. "The next time we lie together, I'll show you a position called Stepping Tigers. I'll enter you from behind and go deep inside...and rub against the flower heart over and over..." He suckled her earlobe, catching it lightly between his teeth. A hum of pleasure climbed from Lottie's chest to her throat. She was floating, weightless, yet clasped securely by the arm at her back and the hand between her thighs.

"How do you know such things?" she asked unsteadily.