by Croft, Pippa
‘Come here,’ he says, pulling me to him. ‘I really don’t think I can wait any longer. It’s not good for my health to be in a room with you and not have my wicked way with you.’
I can’t help grinning, and rest my hands lightly on his waist. ‘Hmm, that’s all very well, but are you sure you’re fit enough? It hasn’t been long since your surgery.’
‘You’ll just have to be careful with me, won’t you?’ he teases, stroking the arch in my back sexily, weakening my resolve.
‘Sure,’ I say, not letting on how much I want him too, ‘but it won’t be easy, you having one arm out of action.’
His eyes smoulder with desire. ‘You love a challenge, don’t you? Now, I suggest that you start removing our clothes, before I do it myself and do some damage. I need to rest after the journey.’
‘Rest?’
‘Of course. I need to lie down.’
‘Oh, really?’
He flames me with a look and even though it’s tempting to walk away just to see his face, I can’t help myself. ‘I seem to remember,’ I say, toying with a button on his shirt, ‘that the last time we were alone together you couldn’t wait to see the back of me …’
I pause, midway, to pop open the middle button of his shirt.
His expression softens. ‘I know and I’m sorry. I was upset and hurt and worried about Emma.’
‘Hmm,’ I sigh and open the button, and the one above, exposing the bruised skin, where the bruises are yellowing now.
Pulling apart the white cotton, I expose his abs and chest. I really cannot help myself at this point, sinking to my knees and steadying myself by grasping his fabulous butt. Then, as softly as I can, I press my lips to his stomach and the muscles of his abs ripple in response. His erection bulges through his trousers.
When I look up, his eyes are intent on me. ‘I’d forgotten how good this feels. When I was banged up in that hole with no idea if we’d ever get out alive, the thought of this was what kept me going.’
Even as his words have an intoxicating effect on me, a tiny part of my mind still urges caution. I’ve had my fingers burned many times with Alexander, and I’m going to have to be very, very careful. But for now I’m focusing on the impressive bulge in front of my eyes, because his physical response is easier to deal with. I pop the top fly button on his jeans. ‘You do know this is going to be tricky …’ I murmur.
‘I know. I suppose we’ll just have to be creative.’
‘I guess so …’ As I say the words, I’m already on my feet and unfastening the next button on his jeans. Instead of the stretchy cotton of a pair of black boxers, my hand encounters bare skin. I flip the other buttons and raise my eyebrows. ‘I see you decided to go commando, Captain Hunt.’
His face is the picture of innocence. ‘It was simpler than putting on boxers.’
‘Oh, really? What did the nurse say about that when she helped you get dressed?’
‘She thought it was a practical solution and said I have to manage however I can for a while. I expect she’s seen it all before. Anyway,’ he breathes, his eyes never leaving mine as he guides my hand deeper inside his jeans, ‘it’s time you reacquainted yourself with what you’ve been missing.’
‘Perhaps,’ I agree. I no longer have any control over my actions and as I cup him in my hand, he inhales sharply, closing his eyes in ecstasy.
‘We won’t be interrupted this time,’ I murmur.
‘Thank God. I almost passed out with frustration when you left me the other day.’
‘A little self-discipline won’t kill you.’
‘Want to bet? Ah …’ His sigh of delight when I tug his jeans down ramps up my own desire to a new level. His bottom is so muscular and solid under my kneading fingers, I feel shaky with lust.
‘You’d better sit down, Captain Hunt.’
He obeys instantly and sits on the edge of bed with his jeans around his thighs. I kneel at his feet and whip off his shoes. I hesitate briefly, when I slip off his dark silk socks and see the bruised and blistered feet. They are a testament to the action he’s seen recently, and the sight and implication of it both horrifies me and turns me on.
I stand up again, transferring my attention to higher up his body.
Wow.
‘I can see you’ve missed me,’ I say. ‘Hold that thought and lie there.’
Swiftly, I pull my top over my head and take off my jeans so that I’m left in only my underwear.
‘New?’ His hungry gaze seems to curl sensuously around my body, making goosebumps pop out on my exposed skin. Agent Provocateur is not my usual brand and this black set was an impulse purchase that’s way racier than the rest of my lingerie.
‘Yes, new – you like? I decided to treat myself after I’d finished the first draft of my essay. I’ve been working while you’ve been idling away in your bed, you know,’ I tease.
‘Top marks. Do I get to see you take it off?’
Reaching behind me, I unhook the back of the bra and let it slither down my arms and on to the floor. As the cool air hits my bared breasts, my nipples pucker. Three weeks of Alexander abstinence suddenly seems like an age.
Alexander stares at me with an intensity that scares me. ‘You will be the death of me one day, Lauren.’
His words and his expression hit me like a sucker punch. ‘No one ever died of lust,’ I say lightly.
‘Are you sure?’
Judging by his erection, I have to admit he may explode soon, but I’m having way too much fun and I’m going to make him suffer before I put him out of his misery. Slowly, I slide the lacy thong over my hips and down my thighs.
He shifts his pelvis, unable to keep still. ‘I can’t stand much more of this, Lauren.’
‘Patience, Captain Hunt.’
‘I’m out of patience.’ His voice softens. ‘Please.’
I climb on to the bed next to him and straddle him.
‘I think I may be in heaven,’ he murmurs.
I lean forward and whisper, ‘I very much doubt heaven would let you in right now …’
The hair on his outer thighs tickles the soft skin of my inner thighs and my muscles have to stretch wide to accommodate him. He reaches up with his good arm and rests it on my waist. Slick with arousal, I ease myself on to him and he lifts his hips to push deeper inside me. Sinking on to him, becoming part of him, feels so good, so natural that I scare myself.
I flatten my palms either side of my thighs and brace myself as he thumbs me with the lightest of touches, shooting tremors of pleasure right through my core. I love the tension, the tautening of his muscles and mine, the melding of our bodies.
He massages me with feather-light strokes, until I’m tangling the bedcover in my fingers and rocking back and forth on him. I didn’t think he could grow any bigger or harder but he’s stretched me a little more until I’m speared deliciously on his full length. He raises his pelvis higher off the bed and deeper into me, while he circles my swollen, tender nub with his finger until the first waves of sensation start to pulse through my body.
Wriggling and writhing, I want to draw him even deeper into me while my orgasm rockets through me. His fingers dig into my bottom and when I open my eyes, his are shut and his face is contorted with the pleasurable agony of his climax before he pulses inside me. I lean back and let another wave of sensation ripple through me, and another, and again … I never want this to end. I want things to stay like this for ever, in this perfect moment of pure uncomplicated pleasure.
A while later, I’m lying by Alexander’s side, still naked, with him still minus his trousers.
Idly, I walk my fingers along his chest. ‘You OK?’
‘Sore. I thought I was OK while I was, shall we say, distracted. But I’m paying the price now.’ He pauses. ‘Maybe the only solution is to do it again.’
I splutter, thinking he’s joking until I see his face. I shiver with anticipation. ‘Do you think you could?’
By the look of him, and the way I’m p
ushing myself against his thigh, I realize that if I lie here any longer then the answer would be ‘yes’. But I see a tiredness behind his eyes and his colour is not good, so instead I reluctantly remove my hand from his chest and wriggle into a sitting position.
He stays where he is, watching me. ‘You know what, Lauren? I’m going to need a lot of TLC now I’m home. An awful lot.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Really? I thought you wanted to be independent and dreaded anyone making a fuss.’
‘I can make an exception if this is what TLC means.’
‘I think that you can have too much of a good thing.’
‘Bollocks. Come back to bed.’
‘No. I need to take a bath and get dressed. And, believe it or not, you do need to rest. Do you want a hand to get up?’
‘I don’t know. Let me try.’
With a grunt, he uses his good arm to push himself up and manages to twist off the bed and stand.
I stifle a giggle at the sight of him, with his arm in a sling and his shirt hanging over his butt.
‘What’s amusing?’
‘I’m wondering what Robert would make of the sight of Lord Falconbury in such disarray.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘I think he’d say, “Good for his lordship.” Now, if you’re not going to oblige me again, I also need a shower …’ His gaze lingers on me. ‘Or a bath. How do you feel about saving water?’
I shake my head. ‘We can’t both get in the tub with your arm like that. Didn’t the nurses tell you to keep the dressing dry until they change it next week?’
He pulls a face. ‘True, but I have a solution.’
Warm water laps around my breasts as Alexander watches me take a bath. He’s placed the padded stool from the dressing table next to the claw-footed tub in his en-suite. He’s now sitting next to me, still in his shirt tails but with a bath sheet draped over his lap. The Creed bath oil I poured into the tub has a sensual woody fragrance that scents the steam rising from the water. Alexander’s greedy gaze never leaves me while I rub the foamy sponge over my breasts and chest and lift my legs out of the water to wash them.
As soon as I get out of the bath, I expect him to hand me the bath sheet but he keeps still.
‘Come here.’
‘I’m soaking wet.’
‘I hope so.’ Once I’m within reach, he leans forward in his seat and presses his face to my wet stomach. With one hand he pulls me to him and splays it over one cheek of my bottom, his fingers sliding over my wet skin.
I tangle my hands in his hair and whisper, ‘Your turn, Captain Hunt, but you’re going to have to take off your shirt. Want any help?’
‘Not really, but if it means you stay naked for longer, I’ll take any assistance I can get.’
After I’ve let some of the water out of the tub, I help him slide the shirt off until he’s naked too. With one hand on the rolled edge to steady himself, he climbs into the tub.
With a little assistance and a few curses, he manages to sit down and even though the water is shallow, some of it splashes over the rim and pools on the black and white tiles.
‘Hey there, be careful.’
‘This is bloody awkward,’ he mutters, holding his injured arm higher above the water.
I pick up the damp sponge from the side of bath, squirt shower gel on to the centre and squeeze until it’s creamy with lather. Foamy suds drip on to his bare chest as I dab the sponge on his bruised pecs.
‘How sore are your ribs?’ I ask, skating the sponge over his skin.
‘Not too bad with the cocktail of painkillers I’m on, and, of course, the distraction of my naked nurse.’
Ignoring this remark, I pat the purple and yellow marks on his chest as gently as I can. ‘These are very colourful, like an abstract painting. A little Modigliani-esque. Whoever made them must have been an artist.’
‘They certainly took 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?
He shakes 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.
‘I haven’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 to lean 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 me, kissing me.
My face burns up. It’s so intimate and bordering on kinky but al
so wildly sexy.
After a few more kisses that have me pressing myself shamelessly against the sofa arm, he draws a line with his finger between my legs, from front to back. It’s so unexpected, so … delicious that my stomach clenches with shock and lust. I crush myself against the sofa and dig my fingers into the velvet cushion.
When he follows up by pushing a finger gently inside me, I cry out, yet he’s relentless, teasing me, stroking and touching me until I claw the sofa in desperation.
‘The view I have is amazing. You have a truly magnificent bottom,’ he says.
‘I’m not – uh – a work of art and I’m, um – also going to – ah – come any moment. Please, Alexander, just come on!’
‘Oh, if you insist.’ He puts a hand on my hip to steady us both and then my toes are almost lifted off the floor as he guides himself inside me. Even though I’m wet and ready, the fit is tight, but wonderful. His thighs are hard against my bottom and I want him even deeper so I lift myself a little, fingers steepling against the sofa as he drives in and out of me. Each thrust increases the friction on my sensitized nub, trapped between his thighs and the velvet sofa, spreading sensation through me … His thrusts become wilder, my orgasm builds until I’m grinding myself against the couch, desperate to release the tension, the burning, raw tension, until finally my climax overtakes me.
CHAPTER FIVE
I walk out of the bathroom some time later to find Alexander trying to pull on his socks with one hand. To give him credit, he did manage to get his boxers on, but it’s hard not to laugh at the sight of him cursing while he tries to work the sock over his foot. In fact, I stop trying not to laugh.
‘It’s not funny.’ He shoots me one of his glares, making me want to laugh even more.
‘Want a hand with those socks?’
‘No, I can manage.’