Revealing Ruby (Bound and Determined #1.5)(15)

He was a god.

He stood with his back to her, but his face turned to the side, eyes closed. His dark hair was wet, curling in free abandon. The firm jaw shadowed with stubble leaned forward, his eyes closed, long lashes darkening tanned cheeks. His lips were parted, slight gasps of air escaping from them. Ruby’s eyes stayed there for a moment, imagining her own mouth pressed to his, dreaming of slipping her tongue beneath those white teeth, of thrusting and parrying and inviting more. She’d never cared much for kissing, but with him she sensed it would be a new adventure, would rival the kisses that existed only in her dreams.

She let her eyes drift lower. The cords of his neck stood out before descending to meet the defined muscles of his shoulders. Yes, the man definitely did not sit in his cabin all day while his sailors did all the work. His muscles shifted and moved. Her mind filled with images of him pulling on ropes, his body straining—and straining it was. His hips thrust, the tight muscles of his ass pushing forward, the sides indenting. God, she wanted to bite those firm mounds, to mark them with her teeth, to feel his flesh with her tongue, to…

She gasped at the power of her desire. She’d never had such thoughts before.

His eyes opened at the sound, moving to skewer her.

Heat.

Fire.

Want.

Need.

His gaze contained it all. She took a step forward, drawn by the sudden need to touch him, to feel him, to know him.

He turned.

The green dragon danced. Both his hands were wrapped tight about his cock, his full, aroused, unbearably beautiful cock.

Her mouth watered. She wanted him. Wanted him like she’d never wanted anything else before.

Another step forward.

It was the reverse of their earlier game. Now she was the moth drawn to his flame, his beauty.

Her eyes fastened on the dragon. It swept across his belly, a swirl of emerald and red upon the flat planes of his stomach. The head reared just below his navel, the claws gripping tight to either hip—and the tail, the tail wrapped about him, ending an inch or two up the base of his cock. It twitched and stirred for her.

His hand stroked again, wet and slick with soap.

She wished they were her hands, her lips.

His hips thrust.

Her mouth opened, the tongue darting out to moisten.

Another step.

Another stroke. Another. And another. Tighter. Faster.

She saw the moment coming, the added tension on his face, the shudder that took his body—and then the surge, the sudden jolt. Her gaze lifted to his and she saw it happen, saw the pleasure take him—as he came and came, each spurt reflected in the lightning that filled his eyes.

—

Well, he was not going to reuse that bath water again. Derek knew the thought was avoidance even as it filtered through his fogged mind.

Who was she? Had Ruby sent her? He’d never imagined such an erotic moment, never even thought about having a woman watch him as he pleasured himself.

How was it possible to feel so powerful and so vulnerable in the same second?

The woman moved toward him, her eyes locked upon his face.

She looked like an angel, soft blond hair curling about her face, pale skin, huge blue eyes, a pink pout of a mouth. And a body—what a body, full breasts held by thin white stays and a knee-length chemise. The chemise was almost transparent below the stays, the hint of her woman’s curls visible between her legs, the sweet curve of hips and thighs revealed with each step she took.

He’d always loved a woman in white, the simplicity and purity. He’d never seen the need for more elaborate dress. This was his absolute fantasy, although the chemise could be lost within seconds and he’d be quite happy.

With sudden clarity his gaze moved back to her eyes. Huge sky-blue eyes rimmed in cobalt, slightly round, but tilted up at the edge. He knew those eyes.

He knew them rimmed in black, above a scarlet pout, but even now he knew them.

Ruby.

Madame Rouge.

But…

Ruby, his mouth formed the word, but no sound came.

Keeping her gaze fixed with his, she brought a finger up to those full lips, gesturing him to silence.

Another step, she was only feet away. She reached to her side, grabbing a linen towel from a small pile, and held it out to him.

He took it, stepping out of the round tub and onto the tiles of the floor. They were cold beneath his feet, but he barely noticed. The towel hung, caught in his fingers. He wasn’t quite sure what she wanted. Did he dry himself? Wrap it about his hips? Surely it was too late for that.

She answered his question by taking that last step forward, raising herself to tiptoe and pressing the softest, sweetest kiss to his mouth. Her breasts pressed hard to his chest. He could feel tight nipples fast against him, but it was her mouth that held his attention.

It should not have been much of a kiss, closed mouth and gentle, no tongue, no passion, no…

But the blasted thing caught him and held him. Soft. Sweet. The two words echoed again through his mind, through his entirety. Warm skin. The scent of lavender. The dampness of breath. The brush of noses.

There was nothing new.

Nothing he had not felt before, but…she caught him and entranced him.

He wanted the kiss to go on forever, for time to stop.

He didn’t grab her, didn’t seek to slip his tongue forward, didn’t plunder and grasp for more.

He just relished.