Revealing Ruby (Bound and Determined #1.5)(17)

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Water sloshed over the edge of the tub, splashing across the floor. Well, he was a big man, a mighty big man. Ruby shoved her behind against the back wall of the tub, trying to accommodate the captain as he settled before her. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea.

And then he was there sitting between her parted legs, his back pressed to her chest, well-muscled shoulders ready to be kissed, firm buttocks pressing just where she wanted. Oh, there was frustration, this was not a position for immediate satisfaction—at least not hers—but she would survive. Anticipation was wonderful.

She placed her fingers upon his neck, massaging down to his shoulders. He moaned deep in his chest. She pressed her fingers harder, working the muscles, feeling the tension melt beneath her fingers. She continued for a few minutes, rubbing the long tendons of his neck, pressing the indent of his spine, before letting her fingers stray lower, feeling the fine line of his ribs and back. As she reached his waist, her fingers traveled forward, exploring the hard planes of his stomach, the few scattered hairs rough beneath her fingers.

With a deep sigh, his body stretched long, pushing her back hard against the edge of the tub, relaxation seeping from him. He should have been too heavy, the position uncomfortable, but all she could feel was the wonder of being here, of being with him. Her legs fell from the edge of the tub, wrapping him tight. She didn’t want to ever let this moment go.

Here, now, in this small room, veiled in mist and steam, she could be whomever she wanted, do whatever she wanted.

Her fingers trailed lower, stroking what must be the start of the dragon, although she could feel no difference in the quality of the skin. Her fingers explored with care, seeking any indication of the beast.

His muscles clenched and rippled beneath her fingers. Ah, she might not be able to see it, but she’d found it all the same.

She kissed the back of his neck, trailing her teeth across the satin skin, tempted to bite.

He wasn’t so relaxed now.

A hand reached down, catching both of hers, holding them still.

His head fell back upon her shoulder and she laid another kiss upon a bristled cheek.

They were still for a few moments as the water cooled about them. She could feel his chest expand with each breath, feel his heart beat against her hands where he held them tight. There was a surprising intimacy to the moment.

She gave in to it for a moment, reveled in it—and then pulled herself back.

Intimacy was not what she wanted, what she needed.

Intimacy was dangerous. It made one wish for things that could not be.

She wiggled her fingers against him, trying to free her hands to roam and tease again. She wanted to touch him, stroke him, lick him. Well, that she could do.

Turning her head she trailed her tongue about the shell of his ear, catching the lobe between her teeth.

His whole body grew taut. It was almost like she’d licked him someplace else, someplace more interesting. She nipped again, enjoying his response.

And then, somehow, he turned, taking her with him. Before she could even begin to understand how a tangle of limbs and skin could move at such speed they were at the other end of the tub, with him below and her above. Another minor adjustment and suddenly she felt his cock in the cleft of her behind, rubbing, seeking. The ache that had lessened grew and grew.

She wanted to rub back against him, to lift herself and sink down on that tantalizing fullness. She started to move, to rise and position herself, but his hands caught her again, holding her still. And just as she would have protested, she felt the warm stroke of rough fingers on her inner thighs as he pushed her wet chemise high, baring her ass to him.

A deep purr of masculine satisfaction. His hands moved to her backside, cupping and lifting, separating.

Her breath caught as she waited, half-lifted to her knees.

His fingers delved between her cheeks, brushing over the pucker of her ass before drifting lower. He pulled lightly at her curls. Lightning shot through her.

God, it had been too long.

One single finger ran forward, tracing her length, before stopping with the slightest pause at that sacred bundle of pleasure. The finger ran back and then forward again, circling, playing, but refusing her the pressure she needed. She tried to sink down upon him, but his hand stilled and then lifted her back to position.

She forced herself to be patient even as her knees threatened to buckle.

His free hand moved to her front, flattening across her belly, bracing her just as he wanted.

And then the hand between her legs moved upward, seeking entrance. One finger, two, filled her, first a little and then more. He pulled back and then surged up again.

Her hands shot forward to brace on the rim of the tub as sensations curled deep within her, fires burning hot.

She could feel her own slickness as his fingers moved, deeper, farther. She bit down on her lip to hold back the moan that wanted to rise.

She felt him press against the front wall of her channel, his fingers sure and strong. The hand on her belly pushed back.

And then he found it, a spot, a place she’d heard of, but never found.

Her whole being curled toward that spot as he stroked, an ache of unbelievable intensity growing and spreading.

He stroked again, hard and firm, his calloused fingers causing sensations such as she’d never dreamed.

She turned her head, looking over her shoulder, and met his eyes, dark and stormy and watching her every move, her every shiver.