Leaning against the bathroom counter, he absently twisted his pinkie ring as she filled the tub. God, he loved indoor plumbing. They didn’t have running water on the other side of the portal, so he never took it for granted over here.
The hem of her wispy dress brushed against the backs of her bare thighs, daring him to keep looking. His erection grew as he thought about those smooth, toned legs wrapped around his waist. Noticing a tiny mole on the inside of her left knee, he made a vow to kiss it the first chance he got.
She reached for her bag and fished out a small glass bottle. Unscrewing the lid, she poured a few drops of a thick amber-colored liquid under the running faucet.
“Do you always carry bubble bath with you?” he asked.
“It’s not bubble bath.” She swirled a hand in the water to mix it.
“Then what is it?” The lavender-and-rosemary scent reminded him of the healing ointments and tinctures sold in the open-air markets back home.
“It’s an organic body oil that my mother makes. My skin gets dry in the winter and this really helps. It’s got soothing and healing properties, too. I thought it might be good on all your cuts and scrapes.” She reached for his good hand, removed his ring and leather bracelets, then rubbed the warm oil from the water into his skin. As he imagined her applying that kind of attention and friction to his cock, he grew even harder. And when she started massaging his palm with both of her thumbs, he closed his eyes and thought he surely had to be in heaven.
He groaned with pleasure. “Holy Fates, woman. That feels so good.”
“And a soak will feel even better.” She released his hand and turned off the faucet. “Do you need help getting undressed the rest of the way?”
He blinked. “I…uh…”
“Of course you do,” she said, as if she had been arguing with herself. “How can you do that with a broken collarbone?”
Before he could protest or warn her that he wasn’t wearing underwear, she began to unbutton his jeans. Call him an ass, but once she got started, he didn’t want her to stop, even though he could manage it himself. Wisps of messy hair hung in her eyes and there was the tip of that tongue again as she struggled with the second button.
“There,” she said. “Got it.”
He started to tell her thanks, that he could take it from here, but she hooked her thumbs under the waistband and slipped the jeans down over his hips.
Just like that, his erection sprang free.
And because she’d been bent over him, it was only inches from her face.
“Oh!” she cried, rocking backward. Somehow, she lost her balance, and before he knew what had happened, she was on her knees in front of him, lips parted, staring right at his cock.
***
Olivia was no prude and had her share of lovers, but she’d never been with a man who looked like this. Fully clothed, Asher was gorgeous. But naked and aroused, the man was utterly beautiful.
His thick erection jutted toward her, a tiny bead of semen glistening on the end. She had the sudden urge to sweep her tongue over that broad, smooth tip. His pubic hair was trimmed short and above it, golden skin stretched tightly over washboard abs. Well-defined V-line muscles curved over his hips, drawing the eye downward. As if a woman would need directions to find what was below. If all male models looked like Asher, digital airbrush experts and photomanipulators would be out of work.#p#分页标题#e#
“Told you I liked the hand massage,” he teased. “Didn’t you believe me?” He reached down to help her up. She ignored him.
How would it feel to have that inside her? Heat pooled low in her belly and she felt a surge of silky dampness inside her panties. She’d never been intimate with a man this well endowed before, so she had nothing to compare it to, but it was bound to be amazing.
He’d have to take it easy, though, at least in the beginning. The only problem was, Asher didn’t strike her as a patient man.
She licked her lips. “I came here knowing we were going to sleep together. I just wasn’t expecting—” She stopped herself before she sounded like a sheltered virgin who’d never seen a naked man or given oral before. Besides, he probably heard the omigod-you’re-so-big comment from all the women he slept with. “You don’t wear boxers. Or briefs.”
Now wasn’t she the master of the obvious. She wanted to roll her eyes at herself.
“Never could get used to them,” he said. “Where I come from, most of the fighting men wear kilts.”
Where he came from. She wanted to know all about his world and all about him, but that would have to be later. Right now, there were more pressing matters. “If I lived over there and you wore a kilt where all this was easily accessible to me, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”