Recently, Mia had matured considerably in his eyes—exactly the kind of perception adjustment Phaeton had mentioned months ago. Even better news, she was learning to use her newly sexualized body to control the wild creature inside. This most unusual therapy from an eccentric bookshop owner actually appeared to be working.
Mia had drawn the drapes to keep in the warmth. The room glowed softly, from a candelabra placed beside a copper tub. She lay back in her steaming bath, a washcloth covering her eyes. Pale flickering light cast a warm glow over her glistening skin. She was partially submerged in a froth of bubbles and aromatic bath salts. One knee angled out of the milky water. His gaze followed the line of a long shapely leg to the end of the bath. Her toes curled over the rounded edge of the tub.
“Water’s lovely, Exeter—care to join?”
He pushed off the door and headed straight for the center of the room. Circling the heavy poster bed, he let down the side curtains. If they were to leave the door unlocked, the least he could do was assure them some privacy. He removed his coat and lay it across a side chair. “You’re certain there’s room for the three of us?” He untied his cravat, as he approached the bath.
The beauty in repose lifted the washcloth and looked him up and down. “Pussy wants her back scrubbed.”
He stood at the end of the tub and undressed. Cravat and collar, shirt, trousers, hose, and low-topped boots—finally he stood in front of her with nothing but a dancing erection. Her eyes lowered to his penis. “You are stimulated?”
“What does it look like?” Exeter reached behind his head. Most often, he wore his hair tied in a queue that emphasized his noble forehead and elegant cheekbones. He pulled off the ribbon and his hair fell in loose waves to his shoulders. “And how is the minxy she-devil this afternoon?”
“She stirs about—but, I feel as though . . .” Mia appeared to be searching for the right words. “The urge to shift is a bit like a sneeze—you can wiggle your nose and interrupt the itch, but sometimes it can’t be stopped.”
“Scoot forward.” He climbed in behind her, wrapping his legs around her. He quickly washed his chest and shoulders, then soaped a washcloth and scrubbed her back. “Mmm,” she murmured.
“Lay back, Mia.” She leaned against his body and he nuzzled the topknot of luxurious hair piled on her head. “I must admit, there is something wonderful about being naked with a beautiful young woman in a tub filled with soap bubbles.” As he luxuriated in the bath, she scrubbed his legs, one at a time, down to the soles of his feet.
Exeter groaned. “I never thanked you and pussy for your assistance last night—you are quite powerful in feline form. There is potent force in the cat.”
“I have flashes of memory—leaping onto the roof of the passenger car—a bit of a scuffle—gnawing on wraith bones.” She handed him a mildly scented soap and cloth.
“Nothing on how you got there?” He worked carefully over her anatomy, starting with firm, plump breasts and working his way down every inch of her body.
Mia moaned softly. “I remember feeling rather ferocious and protective”—she reached back and rubbed the stubble on his jawline—“of you.”
He pulled her knees up and extended her leg into the air. “A test to see just how flexible you are. Good God, love, you’re a ballet girl.”
He imagined the arch of her brow. “You know ballet girls intimately, Doctor Exeter?”
Exeter turned on his side against the wall of the tub, and at the same time, angled her body toward his. She easily tucked herself to one side. “Throw a leg over my hip—that’s it.” They lay in the warm bath, breathing in the layer of hot steam that floated just above the glistening surface of the water.
Mia reached up and ran a wet finger over his upper, then lower lip. “Tell me about the ballet girl.”
He studied her for a moment. “I was on break from university, trying to decide if I would push on for a medical degree. I met a few chums at the theatre—each one of us ended up with a young lady that night.”
“Did you . . . love her?”
Exeter’s mouth twitched, ever so slightly. “I’m afraid with young men, the urge to mate is not often governed by the heart—alas, not even the head. It is a much more primal urge.”
“Oh yes, I know about urges.” Mia furrowed her brows. “Does that make me a wanton?”
Was it the protruding lower lip or the genuine look of worry on her face that so beguiled him? “It makes you—Mia.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. A simple brush of his lips to hers, and all he could think about was more.
She toyed with the washcloth. “I want to touch you tonight.”
He angled away. “But you are touching me. Look, we lie together in this bath—every part of us is touching.”
Even though he smiled gently, her expression darkened. “What do you do with your desire, Exeter? Where does it go? I do not wish you to think of me as a torture.” He was near speechless as she explained. “America says Phaeton becomes unbearably irritable when he is . . . pent-up.”
He did his best to suppress a grin, which proved impossible, because her dimples were out. “I could suck your lingam like a mango fruit . . . if you wish.”
He stared for a very long time, before he rose from the bath and yanked her upright. He tried not to linger too long on the rivulets of sudsy water trailing over her sleek curves.
She continued to quote the Kama Sutra. “Let me put the whole lingam into my mouth and—”
“Stop that,” he ordered, and promptly swept her up in his arms. Parting the bed drapery, he lay her out on top of the counterpane. She used her heels to dig in and inch away from him. “Stop what, Exeter?”
As predatory as a great cat himself, he leaned over her. “Stop tempting me so.” His voice was gruff, and he imagined he looked as though he might eat her alive. Perhaps, he would.
“Turn over—on your stomach.” Mia raised a brow, but obeyed. He held her wrists together against her back. “You need to be taught a lesson,” he whispered, and slapped her bottom. With his free hand, he gently stroked her clitoris. He alternated his stinging slaps with his pleasuring touch. The objective was to have her begin to be excited by both. And he didn’t stop, not until her breath came in short, harsh gasps. The spanking, the scent of her arousal, her lovely mewling whimpers urging him on—all signaled her escalating pleasure.
Exeter broke away, gasping for air himself. Dear God, how he wanted her. “Do not make this harder for me, Mia.” What on earth was he saying? He was making it just as hard on himself. Aching balls hard.
He let go and flipped her over. Facing her, he brought her face closer, inch by inch. Then he did something inexplicable. He kissed her. Christ, how could he resist her? He covered her mouth with his and sucked her tongue into his mouth. He meant for his kisses to be punishing—ravaging. He wanted to see her lips swollen and slightly open—imagine how she might take him in her mouth.
He was on the brink of losing complete control. “Open your legs.”
Mia drew her legs up defensively and then teased him with just enough resistance, until she allowed him to push them open. “I’m going to taste you, Mia.”
He brought both knees up high, and trailed soft kisses along the insides of her thighs. He understood what she wanted, what she desperately needed. He would replace the measured sting of the spanking with his tongue.
Gliding his mouth over the most sensitive parts of her, he laved and flicked with a rhythm that invited her hips to rock with him. His face was wet with her essence when her legs and belly began to tremble. Sweet, mewling sobs of pleasure begged him not to stop. “Oh yes, Asa,” she gasped. All it took was one last lick and she was over the edge of her climax, crying out in unrestrained ecstasy.
Exeter picked her up and moved her under the coverlet. Nestled in the warmth of the feather bed, he wrapped her in his arms and squeezed her tight. “What is it about you, Mia?”
“Me or my bottom?” She wore a curious, slightly vexed look on her face. “Feeling a bit itchy and sensitive back there.”
He kissed her neck. “Good.”
