She quickly twists her hair into a gravity-defying knot that perches on her head and sinks beneath the bubbles. She winces, and I feel a stab of guilt, but her face relaxes as she looks out at the mesmerizing sunset.
I have an idea. “I’ll just be a minute.” I duck out of the bathroom.
* * *
The water is deep, hot, and soothing, and the bubbles have an exotic fragrance that Alessia doesn’t recognize. She examines the bottle of bath gel. It reads:
JO MALONE
LONDON
ENGLISH PEAR & FREESIA
It smells expensive.
She leans back and stares out the window, and her body gradually unwinds.
The view.
Ua!
It’s a picturesque scene. The sunset in Kukës is spectacular, but it sets behind the mountains. Here the sun is sinking languidly into the sea, illuminating a golden path on the water.
Remembering how she stumbled in the waves earlier, she smiles. How foolish she’d been. Foolish and free for a few hours at least, and now here she is in Mister Maxim’s bathroom. It’s bigger than the en suite in the guest room—and has two sinks beneath ornate mirrors. She feels a momentary pang that Maxim’s brother, who had built the property, could no longer enjoy it. It’s a fine house.
Catching sight of the washcloth, Alessia grabs it and gently washes between her thighs. The area is a little tender.
She’d done it.
It.
On her own terms, with someone of her own choosing, someone she desires. Her mother would be shocked. Her father…She shudders to think what he might do if he knew. And she’d done it with Mister Maxim, an Englishman, he of the startling green eyes and the face of an angel. She hugs herself, recalling how gentle and considerate he’d been, and her heart beats a little faster. He’d made her body come alive. She closes her eyes and remembers his clean scent, his fingers on her skin, the softness of his hair…his kiss. His blazing eyes, full of desire. She sucks in a breath….And he wants to do it again. Her muscles tighten deep in her belly. “Ah,” she whispers. It’s a delicious feeling.
Yes. She wants to do it again, too.
She chuckles and hugs herself harder, trying to contain her dizzying elation. She feels no shame. This is how she’s supposed to feel. This is love, isn’t it? She grins and feels a little smug.
Maxim reappears carrying a bottle and two glasses. He’s still naked.
“Champagne?” he offers.
Champagne!
She has read about champagne. But never thought she’d experience the taste.
“Yes, please,” she says, as she sets the washcloth aside and tries to look anywhere but at his penis.
She’s fascinated and embarrassed at the same time.
Large. Hooded. Flexible. Not how it was earlier.
Her experience of male genitalia has been limited to works of art. It’s the first time she’s ever seen one in the flesh.
“Here, hold these.” Maxim interrupts her thoughts, and a blush steals across her face. He hands her the champagne glasses and smiles down at her. “You’ll get used to it,” he says, and his eyes sparkle with humor. Alessia wonders if he was referring to the champagne…or his penis, which makes her blush even more. Tearing off the copper-colored foil, he twists the wire cage and pops off the cork with ease. He pours the bubbling liquid into the glasses. Alessia is surprised and delighted to see that it’s pink. Putting the bottle down on the windowsill, he clambers into the opposite end of the bath and carefully sinks into the water. The foam rises to the brim. He grins, waiting for the water to spill over the side of the bath—but it doesn’t. She draws up her knees as he slides his feet on either side of her.
He takes a glass from her and clinks the one she holds. “To the bravest, most beautiful woman I know. Thank you, Alessia Demachi,” he says, and he’s no longer playful but deadly serious, gazing intently at her, his eyes darker, no longer sparkling.
Alessia swallows in response to the pulsing deep in her belly.
“Gëzuar, Maxim.” Her voice is husky as she raises the glass to her lips and takes a sip of the chilled liquid. It’s light and bubbly and tastes of fine summers and rich harvests. It’s delicious. “Mmm,” she murmurs in appreciation.
“Better than beer?”
“Yes. Much better.”
“I thought we should celebrate. To first times.” He holds up his glass, and she does the same.
“First times,” she says, and turns to stare out the window at the setting sun. “The champagne is the same color as the sky,” she says in wonder, and she knows that Maxim is watching her, but he, too, turns to enjoy the magnificent view.
“So decadent,” she says, almost to herself. She’s bathing with a man, a man who is not her husband, a man she’s just had sex with for the first time ever, and she’s drinking pink champagne.
She doesn’t even know his full name.
A shocked giggle bubbles up from her happy place.
“What?” he asks.
“Your family name, is it Milord?”
Maxim’s mouth drops open, and then he chuckles. Alessia pales a little and takes another sip.
“I’m sorry.” He seems chastened. “That’s just a…um…No. My surname is Trevelyan.”
“Trev-el-ee-an.” Alessia repeats it a couple of times. It’s a complicated name, for a complicated man? Alessia doesn’t know. He doesn’t seem complicated—just very different from any man she knows.
“Hey,” Maxim says. Placing his glass on the windowsill, he grabs the soap and lathers it between his hands. “Let me wash your feet.” He holds out his hand.
Wash my feet!
“Let me,” he whispers when she hesitates. Setting her glass on the sill, she tentatively places her foot in his hand, and he begins to massage the soap into her skin.
Oh.
She closes her eyes as his strong fingers work methodically over her instep, up her heel, and around her ankle. He rubs the sole with just the right amount of pressure.
“Ah…” she moans.
When he reaches her toes, he washes each individually, then rinses them off, gently tugging and twisting each one. She squirms beneath the water and opens her eyes. His steady gaze holds hers and leaves her breathless.
“Good?” he asks.
“Yes. More than good.” She sounds hoarse.
“Where do you feel it?”
“Everywhere.”
When he squeezes her little toe, all her muscles clench deep inside her. She gasps, and he raises her foot and, with a wicked smile, kisses her big toe.
“Now the other one,” he orders in a soft voice. This time she doesn’t hesitate. His fingers work their magic once more, and by the time he’s finished, her entire body has turned to liquid. He kisses each toe in turn, except the smallest, which he puts into his mouth and sucks. Hard.
“Ah!” H
er belly flutters. She opens her eyes to the same intense look, though now his lips are curled in a private smile. He kisses the ball of her foot.
“Better?”
“Mmm…” She can manage only an incoherent mumble.
A strange need claws at her belly.
“Good. I think we should get out before the water goes cold.” He stands and with long legs steps out of the bath. Alessia shuts her eyes. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to seeing him naked or get used to the aching, hungry sensation lingering deep, deep within her.
“Come on,” he says. He has wrapped a towel around his waist and is offering her a navy robe. Feeling a little less shy, she stands and takes his hand as he helps her out of the bath. He envelops her in the robe, which is soft but far too big for her. She turns to face him, and he kisses her, properly, fully, his tongue exploring her mouth. His fingers at her nape, holding her, guiding her. When he releases her, she’s breathless.
“I could kiss you all day,” he murmurs. Tiny drops of water cling to his body like dew. In her dazed state, Alessia wonders what they would taste like if she licked them off.
What!
She inhales sharply at her wayward thoughts.
How wanton.
She smiles. Perhaps she’ll get used to seeing him naked.
“Okay?” he asks. She nods, and, taking her hand, he walks her back into the bedroom, where he releases her. He picks up his jeans from the floor and drags them on. She watches wide-eyed while he towel-dries his back.
“Enjoying the view?” He’s smirking at her.
Her face is suddenly warm, but she holds his gaze. “I like looking at you,” she whispers.
His smirk transforms into a charming, sincere smile. “Well, I like looking at you, too, and I’m all yours,” he says, but his brow creases with uncertainty and he looks away. He recovers quickly and pulls on his T-shirt and sweater, then swaggers toward her and caresses her cheek, his thumb brushing the line of her jaw. “You don’t have to get dressed if you don’t want to. I’m expecting Danny with our supper.”