Explosive - Page 57

When he realized he was staring, held captive by the power of the image . . . that his cock had just throbbed to life again, he looked away, forcing himself not to flinch. He stepped over to the bathtub and turned on the tap.

“Thomas . . . what are you doing?”

“I think you should take a bath.”

“But . . . Thomas,” she said when he picked up some bath salts at the corner of the tub and studied the jar before he opened the lid.

“Yeah?” he replied as he poured some of the light blue salts into the warm water filling the tub. Steam rose against his averted face.

“Will you please look at me?”

“Just a second,” he muttered before he bent and swished his fingers in the water, testing its temperature. He turned and knelt, grabbing one of Sophie’s wet canvas sneakers and untying it briskly.

“Thomas?” she repeated, sounding slightly exasperated. Her sneaker thumped onto the tile floor, only to be followed by its mate.

He glanced up at her before he stood and grabbed for the hem of her T-shirt.

“What?” he asked as he pulled the wet, soiled shirt over her head. Sophie sputtered into the fabric before she lifted her arms and he drew off the shirt. She grabbed at it when it crossed her hands and threw the shirt to the floor.

“Stop it! Thomas, what’s wrong with you?”

He looked into her face incredulously.

“How can you ask me that?”

“I . . . I’m not sure ...” She glanced around helplessly. “I’m on the pill. Is that why you’re so anxious?”

Even though relief swept through him, so did another surge of regret. His fingertips grazed her damp cheek before he nodded toward the tub. “Why don’t you get in the tub? I got you all dirty.”

“I don’t care about getting some dirt on me. You didn’t hurt me. I enjoyed it as much as you did,” she said in a rush. “And as far as not using a condom, I can assure you that I’m perfectly healthy and always have been. I just had my regular doctor’s appointment two weeks ago—”

“You think that’s what I’m thinking about?” he interrupted.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about. I usually don’t, you know? You’re like some kind of . . . human jigsaw puzzle,” she snapped. Something must have occurred to her because she started back suddenly. “Wait, you’re not . . . are you trying to tell me you’re not healthy?”

“Of course not. I practice safe sex. Religiously. Always.”

The one exception being out there in the grass with you not five minutes ago, he thought.

“Oh . . . well ...” Sophie glanced away in discomfort. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was. Why the hell had he made an exception for her?

Why the hell did he want to make that glorious mistake all over again, even knowing that she was lying to him . . . keeping secrets. His throat and chest tightened as he studied her profile, making it difficult to inhale for a second.

“Get in the bath, Sophie.”

For several seconds she seemed undecided. But then she made to stand and he moved back, granting her space.

“Let me,” he said gruffly when she reached for her only remaining clothing—her bra. He unfastened the hooks with a flick of his wrist and pulled the garment off her. Her breasts trembled slightly once they were liberated, the flesh looking firm and tender, the nipples delicate. His hand itched to touch her, but he remained at a distance.

“Go on,” he said quietly.

When she stepped into the steaming water and lowered, he knelt next to the bathtub. Only about two inches of water had filled the tub so far, but the steamy mist made things warm and comfortable. Neither of them spoke as he wetted a clean washcloth. He sensed her watching him as he moved his hand over her knees and thighs, washing away the grass and dirt.

“I can bathe myself, Thomas,” she said breathlessly when he gently bent one knee and washed the streak of dirt off the back of her thigh.

“I know that. I want to do it. I’m the one who got you dirty,” he mumbled gruffly.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tags: Beth Kery Erotic
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