Pulling back, he shrugged out of his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, tossing them onto a chair to land on the book she’d abandoned earlier. If she’d thought him beautiful before, the play of light on his bare skin made a mockery of the word. Beautiful? No, breathtaking. “Someone should sculpt you. Michelangelo’s David is a puny weakling in comparison.”
The flash of his grin had a roguish quality, sending a shiver of arousal through her. He knelt beside her and picked up a washcloth and the bottle of bath oil, then poured a liberal amount onto the cloth. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted tae slick this oil over your skin, lass? This is the stuff of fantasies for me.”
“You are easy to please, then,” she said. With gentle but thorough strokes, Ethan covered her skin in warm scented oil and water, rubbing away tension in her shoulders and neck with his long fingers. The massage elicited a happy moan from her. “That feels so good. Your hands are magic.” He took the encouragement as it was intended and continued his exploration, dipping beneath the surface of the water to cradle her breasts.
“No, these are magic. I’ve not seen you naked all at once before. I take back what I said before. This is the stuff of fantasies,” he said, tugging gently on her nipples.
There’d always been the threat of discovery, so clothing had been shifted or lifted aside, not removed entirely. For the first time, they had all night, and she’d have all of him. Feeling like a seductress, she gave him a saucy glance over her shoulder and rose from the water, then stepped from the tub.
At his poleaxed expression, confidence coursed through her veins. The lush mounds of her breasts bounced as she pulled pins from her hair one by one, setting them aside in a bowl beside the tub.
Ethan swore in the guttural tone of a man nearing his edge. “Sweet bloody Jesus on a cross…”
“Do breasts usually trigger blasphemy?” she asked, dabbing at her skin with a towel. When she leaned down to nip the corner of his mouth, her breasts swayed forward. He caught a nipple, sucking it deep with a delicious drag of sensation. Snaking an arm around her waist, he palmed one of her buttocks.
“I’m having a wee bit of a religious experience. Your figure is the kind Scots immortalize in drinking songs. You’re all curves. Everywhere. Dips and valleys…perfect.” He set his mouth against her breast, working his way up as he stood, tasting her with a needy combination of tongue and teeth that sent her pulse pounding.
They stared at each other for a heartbeat. If only he could always look at her as he did now. Unrealistic, but a fine goal. At last, he reached her mouth and she welcomed him, tunneling one hand into his hair, as if to anchor him to her.
His hands traveled a deliberate path down her back, over her hips, and grasped her firmly where her thighs creased under her bottom. A gasp escaped when he lifted her off her feet, wrapping her thighs around his hips to carry her toward the bed. Everywhere he touched, a trail of pebbled gooseflesh followed. Sensation and desire tangled with a ribbon of joy, coursing through her. The way he looked at her quieted any lingering nerves.
Ethan didn’t try to be proper or restrained. Thank God, because neither did she. She wanted the man who’d licked her into a passionate climax while under her skirt on the balcony and cornered her for heated kisses in the servant hallway.
The focused expression he wore was by far the sexiest thing she’d ever beheld. As if he didn’t know where to touch first but was eager for every inch. She couldn’t stop touching him—any part of him she could reach, which wasn’t much when his clothes covered everything below his waist. The abrasion of fabric against her nakedness was its own kind of arousal. “You have too many clothes on. How is that fair? I want to touch you. To make you feel good.”
“You had a head start. If I take my clothes off, I’ll no’ be able tae stop myself from finally being in you.” Ethan knelt on the bed, between her feet, trailing fingertips over her. From her shoulders, down her ribs, circling feathered brushes around her puckered nipples, then marking a path to her waist and hips.
She blew a curl out of her face and shot him a look. “I fail to see the problem.”
That dimple by his mouth flashed. “Ach, lass. You’re perfect.” He grasped her thighs and held her open to him. With a soft, openmouthed kiss above her belly button, he skimmed his lips down toward her mons. Lottie desperately wanted to close her eyes and feel, but watching his obvious bliss at every touch and taste was an aphrodisiac of its own.
“Hello again,” he whispered with a smile in his voice, then parted her folds with his tongue. With steady pressure and gentle pulls, he focused on the point of pleasure near the top of her slit. Surrender had never been easier, as pleasure washed over her.
When he entered her with a thick finger, then curled it to find a spot inside her she hadn’t known existed, Lottie moaned a curse under her breath. “Don’t you dare stop doing that.”
“Bossy,” he teased, gently nipping the cluster of nerves, then sucking the sting away while that finger worked in and out, readying her body for his. Ripples of sensation pulled into a tight ball that seemed to wrest her body from her control. Her back arched, her hips rose and fell against his mouth, and her voice cried out over and over. Lottie
