Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(61)

She inched forward, trying to be quiet. Stopping a few yards behind him, she wondered what she should do. Inquisitiveness got the better of her and she rose onto her toes. Knees tapered off to large thighs submerged under the water. She wished she could cast a spell to make him fall asleep, so she could explore with her hands where her eyes strayed. Craning her neck, she tried to see deeper beneath the surface, to where his serpent was hidden by dark shadows. An arm moved to relax along the edge of the tub. She followed the trail of wet flesh, only to meet his eyes. Brant silently watched her.

“I was just seeing if you had soap,” she lied. Della instantly came down off her toes.

“Come here, Della.” The words were throaty and raw. When he looked her over, she felt exposed like he could see every inch of her form beneath the gown.

“Wash me.” His command was soft and he held out a wet cloth for her to take.

Della hesitated, feeling lightheaded at the prospect of exploring him. The fireplace had finally begun to flood the chamber with its heat. His fingers purposely went out of their way to stroke the back of her hand. He was warm from the water and the heat spread itself in to her limbs.

“So-ap.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I need soap if I am to bathe you.”

Brant brought it out of the water, handing it to her as he had the cloth. “Here.”

Della took it from him and gently lathered the washcloth. Her hands shook with such force the soap slid from her fingers into the water with a splash. She jumped at the noise and looked to where the water rippled softly on the surface.

“Go ahead.” Brant’s look was now strained, his throat working. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes. “Pick it up.”

His voice was so calm compared to her shaking insides. Della reached into the water where the soap had disappeared in between his thighs. Her wrist brushed the inside of his solid leg. The soft, wet hairs tickled as she moved against his tight flesh. Finding the soap instantly, she didn’t remove her hand right away. She liked the feel of him. Brant’s head was still back, his eyes still closed, and his firm lips set in a long, harsh line.

Della moved her wrist along his thigh, soap in hand. The rub of his flesh sent a fire shooting though her body until all she could do was imagine how she wanted to touch more of him. She licked her lips, carefully watching his face for changes. His eyes tightened, holding closed. She ran her hand higher, noting how the water grew hotter as she did. Then she bumped against his hardened shaft. The smooth texture of it was the source of his fire. Brant groaned. She quickly pulled her hand from the water, not daring to touch his dragon again.

Anxious, she re-lathered the cloth. His member had been so hard, so unyielding. It wasn’t at all like she’d imagined. And it was so hot. Was that the fire she had to put out? Mayhap during love play it grew so hot as to spout fire from his body. From what she’d felt, it hadn’t been far from flaming. Unnerved by the idea, she set the soap aside and pushed the cloth onto his flesh. Della moved his hair from his shoulders as she began to scrub. He leaned forward to allow her access to his back as the soapy cloth glided over his bronzed skin. Her movements were rushed, but Brant didn’t seem to notice.

“Uhh,” he groaned as her hand pushed hard against a stiff muscle.

“Did I hurt you?” Della instantly drew her hand away. “I’m sorry, I never did this before. Mayhap I should send someone else to finish.”

“Nay,” he said, sounding anxious. “I don’t want anyone else to finish what you’ve started.” He paused, uncomfortably clearing his throat. Pleasure began to ripple inside her, but then he added, “Besides, the servants are probably busy cleaning the hall and you are already here.”

“I see. I will try to be careful.” She rubbed him lighter. “What happened to your back?”

“It’s just an old injury that pains me sometimes.”

“From battle?” Della asked, glad for a chance to break the silence of before with conversation. Many scars littered her husband’s body, but she’d never paid them much mind, for they only added to his appeal. Her eyes became mesmerized by the soapy flesh, trails of white against the alluring texture of his sun-bronzed skin.

“I was hit with a club.” Brant motioned dismissively, as if to say it happened to him all the time.

“Where does it hurt?” Della pushed on his back. “Here?”

“Yea.” Brant grunted.

“Wait here.” Suddenly, Della smiled. She dropped the cloth into the water and dried her hands on the skirt of her nightgown. Going to her personal trunk, she lifted the lid and dug through the small jars she had organized within it. Finding the one she was looking for, she picked it up. As an afterthought, she grabbed another before returning to the tub.