Page 223

And everything exploded inside her, a wild, rushing storm that overtook her entirely, and the only things she was aware of were his arms around her, the thrust of his hips and his own groan of release as he turned his face into her hair.

There was silence for a long few minutes after that, and she lay still beneath him, boneless and sated. It surprised her how much she liked his weight on her, even though he was heavy and pressing her down into the mattress. She felt almost…protected, which was definitely not something she’d ever considered needing before.

Idly, she stroked his shoulder, relishing the satin of his skin and the warmth of it, the feel of dense muscle beneath.

After a moment, he moved away, propping himself up on his elbow as he looked down at her, that steady silver flame flickering and leaping in his eyes. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his gaze sweeping down her body before returning to her face once again, silver brows drawn together. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No,’ she said, her voice still husky. ‘Not at all.’

He gave her another sweeping look, as if he didn’t quite believe her, so she reached up and took his chin, turning his gaze towards her. ‘I mean it,’ she said, looking into his eyes. ‘You really didn’t.’

He stared at her a second, an expression in his gaze she couldn’t quite read. Then he took her fingers from his chin and kissed them. ‘Stay there,’ he murmured, before slipping off the bed and disappearing into what she assumed was the ensuite bathroom.

She stared after him, wondering what that brief expression had meant as she admired the view of his muscled back disappearing through the door. Had he enjoyed it? He’d seemed to, but if so, why had he seemed…almost doubtful just then? Perhaps he hadn’t liked it after all. Perhaps he was having second thoughts.

Libby rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, an unwelcome cold thread winding through the warmth of physical satisfaction. She’d had her first sexual experience and with the boy she’d once hero-worshipped, who’d ended up making her feel so good, she couldn’t think of anything else but doing it all over again. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that—

No. She wasn’t going to think about that, or go over and over things.

Right here, right now was the moment she was in, and there was no point in borrowing trouble.

The sound of running water came from the ensuite and after a couple of minutes, Kai strode back in, still gloriously naked. He came over to the bed and before she could say a word, he’d scooped her up in his arms and turned to the bathroom once more.

She should protest really, tell him she could walk on her own, that he didn’t need to carry her everywhere, but lying against him, skin-to-skin, was too good, so she stayed quiet.

That huge bathtub she remembered, the one that stood in front of the windows, was half-full of steaming water and—surprisingly—bubbles.

Kai carried her over to it and gently lowered her into the water, which was deliciously warm. ‘A bubble bath?’ she asked, looking up at him.

‘You might be sore,’ he said. ‘Warm water helps and bubbles are…’

‘Whimsical,’ she finished, leaning back against the warm stone of the tub and giving him a grin. ‘So you do know the meaning of whimsy after all.’

One corner of his hard mouth turned up, and she found herself holding her breath. Was that a smile? Yes, that was very much a smile. Slight, sure, but there all the same.

He didn’t leave her to it this time. Instead, she had to move because then he stepped into the water, settling himself behind her and pulling her back against him, the slide of his skin against hers making her shiver.

‘Relax,’ he murmured in her ear, his breath warm. ‘I’m not going to do anything. I just want you to enjoy the water.’

Libby hadn’t known she’d been tense until he’d said that, but now she relaxed, letting warmth suffuse her limbs and easing her tight muscles. He picked up a cloth from the side of the bath, and then with slow, easy strokes, he began to wash her. It felt good, soothing, and she relaxed even more.

‘Why are you doing all of this?’ she asked idly, after a moment of silence.

‘Doing what?’

‘Running me a bath and then washing me. Doing my laundry and making me food.’

‘You’re a guest.’ He ran the cloth along her inner thigh, making her breath catch. ‘Shouldn’t I do those things for you?’

On the surface, he wasn’t wrong. She was a guest and he was being hospitable. But it made her uncomfortable, she realised. Being looked after in that way, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was because she wasn’t used to being looked after.

‘I’m an uninvited guest, though,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t have to—’

‘Liberty,’ he interrupted gently. ‘I’m doing those things because I want to, not because I have to.’

She twisted around at that, looking up into his face. His features were less hard than they’d been yesterday, less cold, though she couldn’t have put her finger on what was different. His gaze was steady, a clear, silvery grey, and it met hers without wavering. ‘Really?’ she asked doubtfully, even though she could read the truth well enough.

‘Really,’ he echoed. Then one silver brow rose. ‘You don’t like being waited on?’