“Really, Gabriel,” she breathed.
“Such an enchanting blush.”
He gave a soft chuckle as he bent down to claim her lips in a consuming kiss. Talia groaned, her hands lifting to grasp the lapels of his robe as his hands ran a restless path down her back. A voice in the back of her mind whispered that she should be disturbed by the swift ease he managed to stir her passions, but it was a voice that she readily dismissed.
In truth she was too captivated by the glorious sensations spreading through her body to care.
Muttering beneath his breath, Gabriel pulled back to regard her with a smoldering gaze, a line of heat staining his cheekbones.
“Help me remove my robe,” he commanded in thick tones.
With shaking hands she reached to tug at the belt that held the robe together, her stomach clenching with a tingling eagerness as he shrugged off the satin garment and allowed it to pool at his feet.
She licked her lips, her gaze skimming down the perfect width of his chest that was lightly dusted with golden hair and down the flat plane of his stomach. She shivered. He was magnificent.
Continuing with her unwitting inspection of his naked body, her nerve faltered as she reached the proud thrust of his erection, and she hastily lowered her gaze to the muscular legs and narrow feet.
It was his soft chuckle that had her lifting her head to meet his sparkling gaze.
“What is so amusing?”
He pressed her hand to his lean cheek. “I would like to believe you are regarding me with such absorption because you are captivated by my manly form, but I fear you are merely searching for deformities.”
Embarrassed to have been caught staring like a naughty schoolgirl, Talia gave a small sniff, refusing to admit that the sight of him was making her ache with need.#p#分页标题#e#
“Your vanity has no need of my pandering.”
“You are quite mistaken, my dear,” he growled. “I am in dire need of pandering.”
With a last attempt at sanity, she forced herself to step back.
“Get in the tub before the water grows cold.”
He brushed his mouth along the line of her jaw. “As you command, my dear.”
Steam rose from the water as he climbed into the tub, his long legs sprawled over the edge and arms set along the curled rim.
Before she could lose her nerve, Talia knelt beside the tub and reached for the cake of soap that had been left in a pewter dish on the floor. Dipping it into the water, she hesitantly smoothed it along the strong line of his shoulder.
Gabriel groaned his approval, allowing his head to rest on the back of the tub and his eyes to slide shut.
Without his piercing silver gaze to watch her every movement, Talia felt her awkwardness ease, and her touch became bolder as she soaped the strong column of his neck and then the width of his chest.
He was astonishingly…hard, she realized as his well-toned muscles rippled beneath her touch. Although Gabriel had never been one of the effeminate dandies that pranced about London, his graceful movements and elegant attire had disguised the sheer strength of his body.
Her blood heated as she soaped his broad chest and felt his heart racing as she sensuously stroked his slick skin. In this moment she was in command of this dance of seduction, and she was heady with the rare sense of power.
She turned her attention to his nearest arm when a wave caught the yacht and water splashed from the tub onto the floor. Talia hastily began to rise, only to be halted when his fingers encircled her wrist, and his lashes lifted to reveal a smoldering heat in the depths of his silver eyes.
“Paradise,” he murmured. “I could become accustomed to having you play handmaiden.” His gaze lowered to the lace that did little to hide the low scoop of her bodice. “Of course, you would have need of proper attire.”
Talia sucked in a deep breath, acutely aware that her nipples were hardening beneath his heated gaze.
“Proper attire?” she croaked.
“Hmm.” His thumb stroked her inner wrist, no doubt able to feel the rapid beat of her pulse. “Perhaps a pair of those gauzy harem pants that are preferred by the sultans.”
She narrowed her gaze. For all her enjoyment in playing the role of handmaiden, she would be damned if she would dress as a concubine.
“You attempt to put me in harem pants and I will drown you,” she warned.
He chuckled, his gaze flicking over her flushed cheek. “Do you oppose the notion because you are a prude or because you possess the heart of a bluestocking?”
She stilled, meeting his amused gaze with a somber expression.
“Would it trouble you if I were a bluestocking?”
He lifted a brow. “The truth?”
She gave a slow nod, attempting to hide just how much his answer meant to her.