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He couldn’t hold back any longer.

With a groan, he gripped her hips and thrust upward, hard and deep, his need overwhelming him. A moment later, he followed her into oblivion, spilling inside her with a shudder that wracked his entire body.

* * *

She lay sprawled across his chest, still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

All those nights she had imagined him while alone in her bed—those quiet fantasies—were nothing compared to the reality of coming undone in his arms.

Their breaths remained shallow, their skin slick with sweat and other traces of their lovemaking. As much as she wanted to stay nestled against him, wrapped in his warmth, she needed to wash the sticky feeling off her skin.

She sat up, brushing her hair from her face.

“Where are you going?” he asked, propping himself on his elbows.

“I just want to…” She glanced down, suddenly feeling self-conscious. It was different being naked around him when they were not lost in the throes of passion. She wrapped an arm around her chest. “I need to clean up.”

He grunted softly. “The footmen brought the water in not long ago. It should be the perfect temperature now.” He paused, his mischief in his eyes. “Would you like to try out my shower bath?”

Excitement rose within her. “I’d love to. Is it easy to use?”

He sat up, cupped her cheek in his hand, and kissed her gently. “I’ll show you.”

Together, they walked into the bathing chamber, steam still hanging thick in the air. Jacob moved to fasten the buckets to the chains, then turned back and led her to the basin mounted to the floor.

“Stand here,” he murmured, stepping behind her.

He pulled the lever, and a stream of warm water flowed down over her head. Honoria laughed, startled.

“It’s like a waterfall,” she said, lifting her face to the stream.

“Yes.” His arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her steady beneath the cascading warmth. “A tiny, little waterfall.”

They stood together in silence for a moment, the water washing over them, softening the tension in their muscles. Then, with a smile, Honoria reached up and splashed water onto his face.

He chuckled and retaliated, droplets flying as they played like children in the rain, laughter echoing in the tiled room.

“How long until the water runs out?” Honoria asked with another splash.

“Not long.” Jacob reached for the soap. “But luckily, we have two buckets of water.”

He began to slowly lather her skin. His hands were gentle and reverent, gliding over her shoulders, down her arms, and across the slope of her back. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of his touch.

He moved his hands to her front, caressing her under her breasts, circling her nipples with soapy fingers. The feeling was so pleasant, Honoria couldn’t help but moan.

He chuckled in her ear, then moved his hands lower, massaging her skin.

She turned to him, taking the soap from his hand and reciprocating his ministrations—running her hands across his chest, his arms, the planes of his back. Their movements slowed, turned purposeful, each stroke more intimate than the last.

When the water began to fade to a trickle, Jacob pulled a second lever, and the stream renewed, stronger and warmer than before.

He kissed her again—slow, searching—then turned her around so her back pressed to his chest. One hand slid to her breast, cupping it gently, while the other traced a path down her stomach.

His arousal pressed against the small of her back, hard and insistent, and she arched slightly, pressing closer.

His hand slipped between her legs, fingers teasing at first, then parting her folds with slow, deliberate care.

“Like this?” he asked in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.