Roarke lifted his head in her direction without removing the washcloth. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You sighed.”
A wicked idea occurred to Maya. “Well, I got sticky from an ice cream cone on my way over.”
He shrugged, and still the washcloth remained in place. “The bath will take care of that.”
“I think I might need a washcloth.” She blushed as she asked for it. It had been the only one on the shelf.
Roarke froze and wondered if he had misinterpreted something. He handed her the cloth and kept his eyes squeezed shut. Against his brain’s instructions, his left eyelid peeled up. He watched as she washed her chest with the cloth. She seemed to be oblivious to his presence. His other eye opened, and he gazed at her body.
After his initial double take, he realized she didn’t wear the usual white bra and panties. His body hardened at the sight of her flesh displayed in the blue thong and plunging bra. The material invited him to touch, and his mouth got dry as he imagined how it would feel to run his hands over the cups, and then slide down her stomach to touch the velvet panties. He would start at the string waistband and touch the smooth skin at her hip before he moved his hands to her buttocks. Once he squeezed her cheeks, he would ease his fingers forward, until he touched her velvet...
She started to turn, and Roarke snapped his eyes shut. He heard the rustle of fabric against skin and barely managed to fight back a groan as he pictured the scanty panties as they dropped away to reveal her completely. It was a relief when she slid into the water, and he was able to open his eyes again.
When Maya turned around after she removed the underwear and pinned her hair up, she saw the flush on his cheeks. Obviously, he had seen her. She resisted the urge to preen for a compliment and ignored the discomfort she felt because she had enticed him to look.
As she settled lower into the water and sat on the floor of the tub rather than a step, she realized it was indeed slippery. The water was perfectly warm and slid across her skin like satin. “What’s in the water?”
“Bath oil.”
She lifted a handful of bubbles. “Just oil?”
He nodded.
Maya sighed when she leaned her head back against the cushioned rim. The tub’s lip made the perfect pillow. “It’s wonderful.”
“I buy it at a little shop on Fourth. They blend it for me.” The clerk had been mildly surprised when Roarke asked him to add pheromones to the mixture, because he hadn’t changed the ingredients since he’d first tried a sample. So far, he didn’t notice a difference. He always wanted Maya, and he didn’t need pheromones to stimulate his desire. It was impossible to tell if they had affected her in any way yet. “I’ll give you the name and address before you leave, if you want.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure I couldn’t afford it.”
He lifted a brow. “Sure you can, now that Bobby’s career is taking off.” His mouth twisted, and he was barely able to spit out her fiancé’s name.
Maya couldn’t hold back a sharp laugh. “I don’t think he would buy it for me.”
Roarke felt himself frowning. Instead of pursuing the obvious question—why not—he said, “You could always buy it for yourself.”
She shook her head again. “Most of my check still goes to bills. A lot of Bobby’s money was eaten up by…stuff.”
Before Roarke could stop himself, he said, “He’s used five-hundred grand already?”
Her mouth dropped open. “It wasn’t five hundred. It was about one hundred thousand.”
He could add liar to his list of reasons to hate Bobby. Roarke could reveal Bobby’s duplicity that second. He had records to back it up. He could show her that her fiancé had hidden four hundred thousand dollars from her, and she was still slaved away in a menial job for no good reason. He could deal their relationship a crippling blow. He looked at her confused expression, prepared to lay out the facts.
He could destroy her with the truth. Miserable, Roarke said, “Oh. I must be thinking of someone else.” He averted his eyes to the champagne, because he knew he was a terrible liar. But she didn’t know him, so she wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Ah.” Maya studied him as he opened the champagne with a pop. He barely lost any foam before he poured them each a glass. His shoulders were stiff, and he seemed to deliberately avoid her eyes. Had he lied to her? She pushed that thought away quickly, because she knew it would lead her to thoughts about Bobby she didn’t want to explore. “Thank you.” She took the glass he held out and sipped. Bubbles tickled her nose and caused it to wrinkle.
He stared at her and wondered if she knew how adorable she was. With her nose wrinkled, the freckles blurred together, and her eyes got crinkly, which gave her a giddy look. “Do you like champagne?”
She shrugged, but took another drink. “I’ve never really had it before. One glass years ago at my brother’s wedding is all.”
“Oh.” Roarke watched as she drained the glass in four swallows. He almost felt wicked when he refilled it for her before he took a first sip from his glass.
Maya sat up, rolling her shoulders. “Does this have those jet things?”
“Yes.” Roarke lifted a small panel on the wall to turn on the jets. Within seconds, the water bubbled around them, and the foam on the bath stirred agitatedly. He saw her roll her neck. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Maya took another sip of the champagne, allowing its bubbling warmth to spread through her, bringing a haze of relaxation with it. “It was a long day.”
“Your neck hurts?”
“And my shoulders.” Maya’s eyes widened as he put his glass in the corner and slid toward her. “What are you doing?” Her voice emerged as a squeak, and she covered her breasts with her arms even though he couldn’t see them through the thick layer of bubbles.
“I’m going to give you a massage.”
She shook her head as he took her arm and pulled her up and away from the edge of the tub. As he brought her back with him to his corner, she said, “You don’t have to.”
Roarke settled on the step and pushed her down so that she sat on the bottom of the tub with her back to him. “I want to.”
“Really, there’s no need…ahh.” She moaned when his hands settled on her shoulders and slid across her skin with ease because of the oily water. As he worked the muscles, she slowly relaxed.
Roarke couldn’t concentrate when she made breathless little sounds in the back of her throat. They grew more frequent as he dug his fingers deep into her skin to loosen the tension. As she grew relaxed, she leaned against him until her back was pressed against his stomach. Her lower back was a mere inch from his groin, and he gave into temptation. He thrust his hips forward just a bit. He felt her stiffen when his erection touched her, and he redoubled his efforts with the massage.
Her eyes widened when he pressed into her back and Maya started to pull away, but the massage felt too good to stop. Her eyes grew heavy as the champagne and his touch made her too languid to move. Instead, she cuddled closer and left no room for Roarke to continue the massage. Her neck rested against his right forearm, and she rubbed her cheek against the wet hair. “That feels good.”
“I’m not doing anything.” His voice was husky, and he cleared his throat.
“Your hands…” She trailed off, unable to summon the energy to explain that the way he continued to apply pressure on a particularly painful spot caused it to relax.
Roarke lifted her and slid off the step so that he sat on the tub’s floor. He settled her into his lap and held her against him. His arms wrapped around her waist, and she didn’t protest. To his surprise, she shifted so that she was closer to him and leaned her head back against his shoulder. She didn’t mention his erection where it pressed against her bottom, and he tried to ignore the pleasure/pain of his erection’s proximity to her folds, because he knew he couldn’t make love to her yet.
When he slid his hand up her stomach to just under
her breast, he held his breath. He waited for her protest for several endless seconds. When she still didn’t say anything, he flicked his thumb across the turgid peak. She moaned a little, and then shifted restlessly and brought his erection more fully between her legs. You’re not doing anything today, he reminded himself even as he thrust his hips up to nestle his shaft nearer her slit.
Maya felt him move again and knew she should pull away, but she was too sleepy. Her lids felt weighted, and she yawned. Besides, it felt too good to move. Why bother? They hadn’t really done anything.
Roarke sighed when he heard her yawn. The explanation for her compliance became clear—too much champagne coupled with the hot bath and massage. “Are you sleepy?”
“Um hmm.”
Despite his frustration, Roarke was able to smile at her hazy response. He moved away from Maya before he propped her against the side of the tub while he got out. His erection was painful, but he wouldn’t do anything to relieve it while she was in this condition.
He wiped away the foam and some of the oil with one of the towels before he lifted her from the tub.
They both needed to shower, but he didn’t want to have to hold her up in the large shower stall while he washed both of them. She could remove the oily residue later, once she woke up.
She leaned against him, sweet and cuddly, while he dried her off. He lifted her again, and she sighed. Maya curled against him like she was made to fit in the cradle of his arms when he carried her into the bedroom. He balanced her with one arm while he pulled back the new cover, and then laid her on the silver silk sheets. He put the blanket over her before he returned to the bathroom to blow out the candles, shower, and get dressed.
Roarke dropped his pants when he realized he was at least a little sleepy. He looked at himself in the mirror, traded wicked grins with his reflection, and lifted his pants to put them back on the shelf.
He reentered the bedroom and stopped to look at her for a moment. She slept peacefully, and tiny sighs issued from her every few minutes. He walked over to the bed and slid in on the free side. She rolled right into his arms and pressed her bottom against his groin as he wrapped his arms around her. As they spooned, Roarke realized he really was tired, and his eyes closed too, until they were both asleep.
Chapter Eleven
After The Nap
Maya stretched, and her legs tangled with another pair. They felt different from Bobby’s. She opened her eyes slowly and felt disoriented. Roarke lay beside her with his eyes wide open as he watched her. He had a strand of her hair wrapped around his finger. A gentle smile teased his lips. “What happened?” She sounded hoarse, and her head ached.
“You took a nap. I joined you.”
“Oh.” She frowned, while she tried to remember what had precipitated the nap. She remembered the bath and massage, the two glasses of champagne, deliberately enticing him to look at her… She groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Roarke touched her cheek.
“I feel a little sick.”
“It’ll pass. A shower will perk you up.”
She bit her lip and mustered her courage. She didn’t feel like they had, but she needed to ask. “Did we…?”
Roarke’s eyes widened. “Of course not.” He winced at his sharp tone, but couldn’t pretend she hadn’t offended him. “You were in no shape, and I’m not into passivity.”
Behind his anger, Maya could see genuine hurt in his eyes, and it gave her a pang in the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry.” Why had she apologized? It was a logical assumption that he would have taken her when she was passed out. It would have fit in with his ruthless personality.
But he wasn’t really ruthless. She could see that from the way he treated her. For two weeks, the opportunity to force her into his bed had been open to him. Maya was in no position to refuse him, but he hadn’t pressed her. He hadn’t done anything but try to please her. She was always the focus of their encounters. Roarke seemed concerned only with her gratification.
He shrugged. “Do you want that shower?” His tone was still cool, although he hadn’t meant for it to emerge that way. She had every right to assume he would take advantage of her. Hadn’t he already?
She nodded and slid from the bed. When she stood up, Maya realized she was completely naked. She froze and scanned the room for her clothes.
Roarke’s breath got trapped in his throat as he looked his fill of her nude perfection. When he had lifted her from the bath, his attention was focused on how to get her to the bed, rather than what she looked like. The lamp he had clicked on when he woke up served to illuminate the creaminess of her skin and cast shadows across her body, while it exposed other delectable parts. The oil from the bath left on her skin gave it a shiny, almost translucent quality. She was well proportioned, with pert breasts, and shapely legs. Her abs were defined, and muscles in her arms rippled under the skin as she reached for the sheet.
She was lithe and toned. He could stare at her all day. He would love to touch her all night. She broke his trance when she fastened the flat sheet around her, sarong-style. Most of her hair had come undone from the barrette, and it cascaded over her shoulders. He could easily imagine her as the queen of an island. He would gladly do her bidding, worship her always and get down on his knees to pray. He dismissed his fancies with a soft sigh. “There’s a fresh towel for you on the counter by the sink.”
Maya hurried into the bathroom to escape the hunger in his eyes—the hunger she suspected was mirrored in hers. Her body still tingled, as if his eyes had been hands and had stroked her most private places. She turned on the faucets, and then entered the spray. The water was almost hot enough to hurt, but it felt good too. As she washed away the traces of oil from the bath, Maya tried to wash away the uncomfortable truth that she wanted Roarke.
She touched the ring on her left hand. It was tangible proof she was Bobby’s woman. Maya had no business thinking about Roarke the way she was. It was bad enough having to play his game, but she certainly shouldn’t be enjoying it, or looking forward to the next round. She shouldn’t imagine it was his hands washing her. She definitely shouldn’t wish that she hadn’t left that spacious bed. If she was still laying with him, he would be touching her. His hands on her body, not hers.
Her breathing grew ragged as she imagined Roarke’s hands on her. She leaned her head against the warm tile and entertained thoughts of asking him to wash her back. She fantasized that he would throw open the glass doors, storm into the shower, pin her to the wall, and make her his. There would be no time for protests. She would be caught in the onslaught of his passion—willingly, eagerly, even.
Time. Maya’s eyes popped open, and her hand fell away from between her thighs. What time was it? The window in the bathroom was covered by a security shutter, so she couldn’t see out. She was well-rested, and the shower had revived her. She felt like she had slept for hours.
Maya rinsed the remainder of the soap away and shut off the water before she stepped onto the bare floor. She took a folded towel from the counter and wrapped its fluffy folds around her. She lifted the other towel, which smelled faintly of soap and Roarke, and briskly dried her hair. She dropped it back on the counter and removed the towel around her. After a quick rubdown, she threw on her underwear, the wrap-around skirt, and the halter. She found her shoes under the sink.
Maya skipped all other grooming rituals and rushed back into the bedroom. Roarke sat in the recliner, wrapped in the comforter from the bed. She frowned at his nakedness. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“My clothes were in the bathroom.”
“Oh.” Maya frowned at her asinine question. “What time is it? I don’t have my watch.”
Roarke glanced down at his Rolex. “Three-twelve.”
“In the afternoon?”
He almost laughed at her blatantly hopeful tone. “A-M.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you think of something to tell Bobby so he won’t know.”
“He knows?”
Maya’s head lifted at Roarke’s cold tone. “What?”
“Bobby knows about our arrangement?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah. Are you listening to me? I’ve been out half the night, and my family will be here soon.” She went to the nightstand before she remembered he had no phone. “God. How can you live without a phone? I need a taxi.”
Roarke struggled to suppress his anger as he rose from the recliner. “I’ll drive you home. Your apartment is on my way.”
She frowned. “Your way?”
“I don’t live here, Maya.” Despite his preoccupation with thoughts of strangling Bobby, he was able to muster a small laugh. “This place isn’t even Spartan. No one could live here.” But if she were in his bed, day after day, he would be willing to try.
He saw her anxious pacing and sighed. Without waiting for a response, Roarke went into the steamy bathroom to put on his clothes. When reentering the bedroom a few minutes later, he found Maya standing by the door. “I guess you’re ready?”
She nodded. What was Bobby going to say when she showed up at this hour? How could she have been so careless as to fall asleep? The champagne and massage had been too much relaxation, and she had been so tired. Would he understand that? Would he believe that nothing had happened besides a bath and a nap? She closed her eyes and bit back a sigh. She knew the answer already. The best course of action was to not tell him anything. She would just apologize profusely and hope he dropped the issue.
Roarke followed her from the condo and struggled to keep up with the pace she set as they hurried to the elevator. She didn’t slow down until they were in the parking garage attached to the lower floor. She was forced to wait for him as he led the way to a black Lotus, which he unlocked with the remote on his key chain.
Playing His Game Page 6