Revealing Ruby (Bound and Determined #1.5)(20)

And then one of his hands pinched tight at her nipple as the other slipped from her hip to between her legs, his fingers seeking and finding that other bundle of pleasure.

He rubbed against her clit and then circled, rubbed again, trapping it between his thumb and forefinger.

She could feel the pinch coming, knew he meant to take her over first.

She pressed down again, then drew up, tightening herself with everything she had, feeling the ridge outlining the head of his penis press against her muscles. She loosened and then clenched again tight, again and again.

She felt his indrawn breath, saw his eyes grow wide.

And then the pinch, hard tight, but so, so good.

It was impossible to hold back. It rose within her, contracting muscles of its own volition. She was lost.

But then, so was he.

His hips lifted from the tub, his back arched. A roar left his lips, filling the small chamber.

Her own cry, higher, shriller, matched his, as her body arched and every muscle in her convulsed about her core—and him.

With one last cry she collapsed against him, cocooned against his strength.

—

The water was getting cold. They would have to move soon, but perhaps not quite yet. Tepid, perhaps he could pretend it was only tepid. He’d washed with plenty of tepid water onboard ship. Hell, he’d washed with water that still had ice floating in it, but on those occasions he hadn’t had a warm female body pressed against him, a body that made him all too aware of the growing chill of the water.

He should move. He really should.

A soft purr sounded against his chest as Ruby snuggled closer. Her full lips brushed against the scattering of hairs, sending shivers through him. He could have pretended it was the water, but he knew the truth.

It was the woman, the little madame, who affected him so strongly.

This was not how it was supposed to be. A quick f*ck or two and he was gone. That was how he lived.

He certainly did not spend time with women cuddling against his chest. If that was what he wanted he’d find a wife—something he had no intention of doing.

With some effort—he didn’t have a muscle that wanted to move—he reached out and stroked one of her damp, curling strands. So soft, so smooth. He twined it about his finger. He could hold her like this forever.

Blast. He shoved his legs against the end of the tub, taking her with him.

Then, bending his knees, he pushed to standing, lifting her along.

Her legs stretched down to the floor and her slick body slid against his. She groaned in protest.

“The water’s cold. Don’t want you to catch something. Come, let’s get you dried.”

Another moan, but she stood still as he turned to grab a couple of towels from the pile. He’d dry her off, then send her back to wherever she’d come from. A good night’s rest and he’d be ready to ride north in the morning.

Towels in hand, he turned—and stopped.

His mouth suddenly dry.

Ruby stood just where he’d left her a moment ago, but the chemise now lay in a pile at her feet.

God, he’d never seen anything so delicious.

He’d thought that having seen her almost naked he knew what she looked like.

He’d been wrong. Shit, he’d been wrong.

Her breasts rose high, despite their lush size, the delicate pink nipples hardly darker than a baby’s cheek. Her waist curved sleekly inward beneath delicate ribs and above swelling hips. Her navel was deeply indented—a gentleman could sip champagne from such a cup. His mouth grew drier still.

He let his gaze slip lower, to the golden nest of curls, soft as down, the long sleek legs slightly crossed to hide her innermost secrets from him. He knew those secrets well, but still in this moment they were a complete mystery.

And her skin. Her skin was pale as cream, but still flushed with desire. Perfect. Smooth. No silk or satin had ever been as fine, or looked as untouched.

He brought his gaze back up and met her eyes. Was she nervous, unsure of herself? It seemed unlike both the confident Madame Rouge he’d met upstairs and the seductive angel who had followed him here, but there was no mistaking the slight hesitation that marked her eyes and the slight wrinkle that formed between them.

He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, that no woman had ever been so lovely, that she was Venus come to life, but though the words flowed with ease through his mind his dry lips could not form them.

All he could do was shake the towel open and hold it out to her. Still holding his gaze she took it and blotted at damp skin. He swallowed, almost reached out and took the towel back to dry her himself. Forcing his hand back to his side he took his own towel and began to rub himself dry, his eyes never leaving Ruby.

The moment he felt close to finished he dropped the towel on top of her sodden chemise and stepped toward her.

A dozen possibilities ran through his crowded mind, but he pushed them all away.

Sweeping Ruby into his arms, he cradled her against his chest and strode toward the stairs, toward the duke’s bed.

—

Well, that had decided things. Ruby burrowed her face into the captain’s chest as he mounted the stairs. For a moment, a second, she had not been sure. Should she return to her own room? Should she take him with her? She’d never allowed a man in her chamber—well, other than Billy carrying up parcels and luggage, but that hardly counted.

It was unclear why the captain brought out these insecurities in her. No man since her father had ever made her question her actions. Even with the most imperious of lords she held her calm and dignity. She was the mistress in her house and all who entered knew that. It didn’t matter if a man was a mere “mister” or a “your grace.” In Madame Rouge’s House Ruby’s word was law.