Third Time Lucky by Pippa Croft Page B

great pleasure in creating them,’ he says curtly.
    ‘I can believe it.’ Still brandishing my sponge, I switch position to the rear of the tub. ‘Lean forward a little.’
    I apply the sponge to his shoulders and neck, drizzling the fragrant foam down his back.
    ‘Would you like me to wash your hair for you?’
    ‘Yes, why not?’
    He’s meekness itself, and I have to admit I love taking charge. He relaxes against the back of the tub while I massage his citrusy shampoo into his scalp and work up a lather.
    ‘You’d better close your eyes. Tilt forward.’
    I pick up an old-fashioned metal jug from the vanity unit, fill it with tepid water and pour the contents over his head. He shakes, spraying me with droplets.
    Water chases down his shoulder blades, obscuring his bruises momentarily under rivulets of foam. Once again I wonder what the hell happened to him. Will I ever find out? Do I even want to know?
    Heshakes his head again, to rid his face of water droplets.
    ‘You look like Benny after he’s been in the stream.’
    He laughs. ‘Do I?’
    ‘Uh-huh.’
    His wet hair glistens in the sunlight streaming through the window and beads of water glisten on his forehead, cheeks and chest.
    Crossing to the side of the tub again, I dip the sponge back in the water and rub it over his abs. It’s a big tub but he still has to bend his legs to fit inside, and when I touch his stomach, he tenses. I’m not sure if it’s pain or because the sponge is only inches from his vital parts. I push the sponge beneath the water and gently rub it between his thighs, feeling his erection grow. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. ‘Did you know your breasts jiggle when you bend over me?’
    ‘Tsk. That’s highly inappropriate, Captain Hunt.’
    ‘And you bathing every inch of me, completely nude, isn’t?’
    ‘Be quiet or I won’t finish the job, and you wouldn’t like that, would you?’
    Kneeling by the tub, I turn my attention to his thighs, rubbing the muscular planes with lather from the sponge, working my way from his groin, over his knees and down his shinbones to his feet.
    ‘I’ve never been so clean,’ he murmurs when I’ve washed both legs thoroughly.
    ‘Ihaven’t finished.’
    Lathering my hands with the shower gel, I dip my fingers between his thighs and cup him in my hand.
    He collapses back against the tub, eyes closed. ‘Oh, fuck.’
    ‘What’s the matter? Does it hurt?’
    ‘Only if you stop.’
    I wash him thoroughly until he says hoarsely, ‘It’s no good. I have to get out.’ I get up from my knees to help him but it’s still a struggle for him to get out of the tub. Finally, he’s back on terra firma, looking like some classical warrior fresh from battle. My God, if he knew what I was thinking, he’d laugh.
    I don’t care; I want him and give no resistance when, still dripping wet, he advances on me and presses me against him. Water runs down his face on to mine as he claims my mouth in a hot wet kiss before taking my hand and leading me into the bedroom.
    We stand by the bed as he drops kisses on my bare shoulders and neck. Not
quite
knowing what’s in store for me, I shiver with excitement as he curves his free hand around my bottom, urging me forward to the sofa in front of the window. His skin is still damp and his hair wet and tousled. He smells divine, of sex and spicy bath foam.
    Wordlessly he moves behind me, stroking my stomach with the lightest and most delicious of touches before pushing me gently towards the sofa. I start tolean forward over it, hearing the sharp intake of breath as I do so. ‘Lauren … Jesus, what are you doing to me,’ he whispers, his voice ragged.
    God, his voice, just the way he says that last line deserves a triple-X-rating. I face the window and tilt my hips forward, sliding my palms along the sofa cushion until I’m bent right over. The velvet roll-edge is soft against my stomach and I hear Alexander moving. I think he’s on his knees behind