The Wrong Gentleman(36)

I pulled her between my thighs and began to unbutton her dress, trying not to get distracted by her hands in my hair or the way she traced the outline of my face with her fingertips.

The red jersey material dropped to the floor, revealing black lace underwear. I fingered the edge of her bra—I wanted to play with and palm her breasts, but I also wanted more, and if I started something now, bath time would never happen. I turned her around so temptation faced the other direction, then groaned as I glanced down to take in her tight, high arse. Jesus, this woman’s body. I snapped open her bra and pulled the straps from her shoulders before hooking my fingers into her knickers and peeling them off. I couldn’t resist the cleft in her bottom and smoothed my hand down the center of her arse, my fingers gently pressing into the valley between her cheeks.

I sighed and circled her waist with my hands before turning her to face me again, then pulling her toward me and kissing her once between her breasts. I wanted to take my time tonight. Explore her inside and out.

I pulled one of the soft, white robes from the bed and held it up, encouraging her to slip her arms into the sleeves. “You’re dressing me again?”

“Until the bath’s ready.”

She grinned and lifted herself up on her tiptoes. “We’re having a bath?”

She couldn’t be more surprised than I was. I’d never bathed with a woman before. Never had the urge to, but with Skylar, I wanted to care for her. I wanted her to relax and enjoy this evening. And I wanted to sit opposite her and talk in warm water surrounded by bubbles. “Sit here,” I said as I guided her to take my place on the bench while I saw to the bath.

I never took baths. But Skylar had changed what I did and didn’t do.

I eyed up some of the bottles on the inset shelf on the waist-high wall that separated the bath from the bed and emptied the entire contents of one into the fast-running water.

In just a few minutes, the bath was ready, and I looked up to find Skylar watching me, her eyes wide, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Now it’s your turn,” she said as she joined me, then began to undo the buttons on my shirt. She pulled the sides apart and pressed her lips against my chest, mirroring my earlier gesture. “You smell so good. What is that?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. Just soap.”

“Maybe it’s the soldier in you. You smell so . . . masculine.” She ran her hands up my chest, tracing the shapes of my muscles before pushing my shirt over my shoulders. I took over, unused to being undressed by a woman, and stripped off my trousers and pants.

“You want to test the water before you step in?” I asked.

She shook her head, glancing at my growing erection. “Something tells me you’ll have it right,” she said.

I pressed a kiss to her mouth before taking her hand and guiding her into the bath.

“The water’s perfect.” She sank into the bubble-filled bath. “You going to sit behind me?”

I shook my head. “If we start the bath with you between my legs, then we won’t be in long enough to get clean.”

She grinned as she leaned back and watched me as I stepped in and sat opposite her.

“Are you going to tell me how you afford a hotel room like this?” she asked.

It irritated me that we were back to this subject again. I guessed it didn’t make sense since she’d made up her mind that I was some kind of drifter, but I didn’t like to focus on money. “You could afford to book this room if you wanted. Everyone chooses to spend their money differently.”

She sighed and tipped her head back, the water sloshing up to her neck. “That’s true. I thought for a minute you were a secret heir to a fortune, and you just hadn’t told me.”

“Nope. My parents are teachers.”

“They’re still together?”

“Yeah, thirty-five years now.”

“That’s nice. Romantic. Do you know that’s probably the first bit of personal information you’ve shared with me without prompting?”

I chuckled and grabbed one of her ankles, lifting it onto my thigh and smoothing my hand up her shin. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“I don’t think that’s what I’m doing. You’re not a sharer, Landon.”

“Old habits,” I replied. “But tell me more about you. What do your parents do?”

“My mother’s dead. My dad . . .” She shrugged. “I’ve no idea where he is.”

She might accuse me of not being one to share, but I could tell by the way she wasn’t meeting my eye that there was something she wasn’t saying.

“What happened to him?”

She shrugged, pushing her thumb into my leg as if she was trying to make a fingerprint. “Prison somewhere. Haven’t seen him since I was fourteen.”

The light in her eyes dimmed, and I didn’t like it. “I’m sorry,” I replied.

She forced a smile. “Not my problem anymore,” she replied.

But it had been. At some point. And the memory of him still cloaked her in sadness.

“Come here,” I said. “Stand up and sit in front of me.”

Her smile morphed into something more genuine, and she stood, the water and bubbles skating down her body as she did.

“That’s better. You were too far away over there,” I said as she sat back against my chest, and I circled my arms around her waist, stroking my hand over her stomach, cupping her breasts then releasing them.