Just once she'd like the naked view of her body to inspire uncontrollable desire. Not contempt. Not humor. Passion. Right. That was going to happen in this lifetime, not.
Her top was still on the floor, so she grabbed up her pants and held them in front of her in an attempt at modesty. They'd made love on top of the covers, leaving her nothing to hide behind. The thought of Simon looking at her naked body and noticing her deficiencies made her cringe.
“I thought you were going to take a shower.”
But he hadn't. He'd come back wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.
“You look very good sitting in my bed, Amanda.” He walked over to the bed. “But you will look even better in my bath.”
He reached out and tugged at her pants. “You don't need these right now.”
“I . . .”
He managed to prise the meager cotton barrier to her nudity from her tight grip. He tossed the Capris on the floor where they landed almost on top of her shirt.
“They're going to get wrinkled all wadded up like that.”
“Jacob can iron them for you.” With that, he scooped her up in his strong arms.
“This is becoming a habit with you,” she said breathlessly as naked skin met hot, naked skin.
His answering smile was that of a buccaneer who had appropriated a cargo hold full of bounty. “You're such a tiny thing, all my primitive instincts come out. Do you mind?”
“No.” Actually, she kind of liked it.
But
tiny
? She supposed compared to his six feet, two inches, her five-foot-four seemed small, but still . . . tiny?
“I wear a thirty-four D cup bra,” she said, stating the obvious, “and I bet I wear the same size all the time that your cousin's wife,”
the woman he'd cared enough about to want to marry
, “wears pregnant.”
“Yeah. You're perfect, but so small it scares me a little. I'm really lucky your passion makes up for your size.”
Were they talking about the same body? Had he heard a word she had said? Her mother had been after her to go for a breast reduction since she'd finished developing. Lance had joined her mother's urgings, but she had refused. She'd never had surgery and frankly the idea of having such an operation had scared her.
“You really think I'm perfect?” she couldn't help asking.
He stared at her like she'd lost her mind. “You have a luscious body, sweetheart. But I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. Other men must have told you the same thing, ad nauseum.”
If she admitted they hadn't, would that lessen her in Simon's eyes? She shrugged noncommittally, not saying anything else until they arrived at Simon's bathtub. It looked more like a small Jacuzzi to her. There was definitely room for two and it occurred to her that Simon meant to take advantage of that fact.
“We're taking a bath together?” Was that squeaky voice hers?
His answer was to step with her into the swirling water.
Simon had come into the bathroom to take care of the condom when the sight of his oversize, jetted tub had given him an idea for his “captive's” next seduction. He'd never bathed with a woman. He'd taken showers with lovers, but never a bath.
She'd had her first orgasm with him. He decided he would take his first coed bath with her.
She made no move to slide off his lap once their bodies were immersed in the hot, scented water. He'd tossed in some aromatherapy bath salts one of his cousins in Arizona had sent him for Christmas. It smelled pretty nice. He hoped Amanda thought so too. Besides it had an oil base, turning the water into an all-over body lubricant.
He cupped one of her D-cup breasts, smiling at how she had admitted to her bra size like it was a crime. Was she really that ignorant of a man's desires that she didn't realize his reaction to her generous curves would be
anything but
revulsion?
She circled one of his masculine nipples with a forefinger, making his sex bob in the water beside her hip.
“This is kind of fun, isn't it?” she asked.
Cupping his hand, he scooped up some water and let it trickle over swollen peaks the color of ripe raspberries. “Fun is a pretty tame word for what I feel right now, Amanda.”
She laughed, the sound exultant. “Oh, Simon.”
He palmed her cheek, angling her head for his kiss. Her lips were pliant and warm. As he played with the ripened flesh of her breasts, she opened her mouth with a purring sound and he took instant advantage of the chance to taste her again.
So sweet
. He could never get enough of her mouth.
She sucked on his tongue while kneading the muscles of his chest like a cat and he felt like exploding right then. He put up with the torment of her mouth for as long as he could before he knew that, one more second, and he would come without even having her touch his arousal.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he broke the kiss to suckle the rapid pulse at the base of her throat.
“That feels so good,” she groaned, letting her head fall back. “Simon, everything you do to me feels good.” She sounded really surprised by that fact.
Maybe she was. She'd been married, but never had a climax. Her husband had to have been a lousy lover because she was amazingly responsive.
She wiggled her bottom against him, but didn't make a move to bring her body into contact with his hardened flesh. He couldn't stand that kind of teasing. Not this time. Maybe never. This woman affected him in ways he would earlier have denied were possible.
He reached down and grabbed her hips, turning her toward him and letting her float in the water just long enough to separate her legs. When he pulled her back onto his lap he made sure she was straddling him.
Her head came up and she stared at him, her eyes glazed with passion. “Simon?”
“I want to feel your sweetness against me, baby.”
“Oh, yes.” But she didn't move.
Too impatient to wait, he pressed against her tailbone and her bath oil slickened thighs slid along his until their bodies met. He shuddered. So did she.
He adjusted her until her swollen outer labia were lined up with his erection, then he reached around and gently separated the lips. He arched up so his sex pressed against her most sensitive flesh. “Pleasure us, sweetheart.”
She made a broken sound. “How?”
Grabbing her bottom with both hands, he slid her up the length of his erection, pressing in when her hardened clitoris was aligned with the mass of nerve endings near the tip. Then he slid her down again until her labia met his sacs.
Her mouth formed a surprised little
O
that he just had to kiss. “Ride me.”
“But you aren't inside me.”
Never having taken a bath with a woman before, he didn't know how well a condom worked in that environment. He also didn't have the patience to find out. “This will be good, trust me.”
She must have because she started moving against him, doing a little circular motion every time her sweet spot met the ridge at the broad tip of his arousal.
“This is so amazing. I can feel bubbles in my . . .”
“Do you like it?” he asked as he moved his hand around so his fingers could play where the bubbles had found their way.
“Oh . . . Oh . . . Yesss . . . . I like it.”
Her movements were voluptuous and he was glad they'd already made love. He wanted this to last. And it did.
She rode him for a long time while wave after wave of pleasure washed over him with the oil-slick water. Eventually, her movements grew more frantic until she stiffened against him, crying out his name as her body convulsed in what felt like a never ending orgasm.
He came then, too. Shooting into the water. The sensual feel of the bubbling wetness all around him increased the intensity and his orgasm lasted longer than any he had ever had. When it was over, his head fell back against the rest and he closed his eyes. Amanda sank against his chest like a wilted flower and he hugged her to him.
She kissed his chest and he felt that tender salute to the bottom of his soul.
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Amanda woke up to the disorienting sensation of being surrounded by living heat. Then she remembered. She was in Simon's bed, in his arms. His quite naked arms. It was almost identical to the time she'd fallen asleep waiting for him to relax his hold on her. His hand was on her breast, hers was against his chest, and their legs were entwined.
Only this time, she knew she belonged.
He'd pulled her into his bed after their bath without giving her the option of returning to her own room.
She hadn't minded.
Given her druthers, she'd never leave Simon's bed again.
She allowed herself a small smile at that bit of fantasy. She could just see Jacob bringing them the necessary provisions while they pursued a life of debauchery, never leaving the haven of Simon's bedroom.
It didn't feel like debauchery when their bodies were joined, though. It felt spiritual. Did Simon experience the same thing? She had no way of knowing. She'd been a virgin with little heavy petting experience when she'd married Lance and she'd never had sex with another man. Until now.
It felt funny, knowing they weren't married.
She supposed in that way too, she was anachronistic. Even feeling odd about it though, she wasn't going to walk away from her first experience with real passion. Because something had hit her about halfway through their decadent bath. It wasn't just a matter of passion, but of love.
She was in love with Simon Brant. Really in love. It was only as the overwhelming emotions coursed through her that she accepted that the lukewarm feelings she had had for Lance had been as much to do with seeking her family's approval, as they had to do with any sort of attraction she'd had for the smooth manipulator.
What she felt for Simon was so elemental, it was scary. The thought of him with another woman made her sick and she could not imagine ever letting another man touch her the way Simon had touched her. She wasn't naïve enough to think Simon was considering a long-term commitment to her, but that didn't alter the way she felt.
He'd told her one of his objections to getting involved was the fact their lives did not mesh. Which said to her that he wasn't looking for ways to make them mesh.
Because of her past, she wasn't sure that even if he did want a permanent future with her, she could pursue it. The thought of being married again terrified her. Men changed after marriage. Lance had been complimentary and charming, right up until the honeymoon.
The little digs had started on their wedding night.
Rationally, she knew Simon wasn't another Lance. However, emotions weren't always rational and hers were scarred.
Was she selfish and wicked for wanting to take all she could of Simon, to replace the memories of a devastating failure of a marriage with the amazing beauty of Simon's lovemaking?
Simon stirred, his eyes flicked open and for several seconds they just stared at each other.
“What time is it?”
She went up on one elbow to look over his shoulder at the digital alarm clock. “A little after seven.”
“We missed dinner.”
Her stomach growled at the words, reminding her she'd missed her other meals today too. They'd made love right through lunch. “We could always go down and raid the kitchen.”
“It's not that late. Jacob probably has something waiting for us.”
The thought of facing the irascible old man after spending hours in Simon's bedroom daunted her. “Probably.”
His hand cupped her chin. “What's the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, baby. You've gone tense.”
“Jacob probably thinks I'm a floozy.”
“Floozy? Do they still use words like that in Southern California?” he asked with laughter in his voice.
“No, well, not that I've heard, but I bet Jacob does.”
“You're not a floozy, Amanda.”
“I know that. Women and men make love all the time without a major commitment.”
His thumb brushed her lips. “But not you.”
She felt way too vulnerable, but she couldn't lie. “Not me.”
He kissed her so softly, so tenderly that she felt tears prick her eyes. “This isn't casual sex, Amanda. Not for me.”
Her breath came out on a broken sigh. “Not for me either.”
He didn't say anything else, which left her wondering what the afternoon had been, if not casual sex. No way did he love her, but he didn't sound like the past few hours had been an indulgence of physical pleasure and nothing else, either.