The column of his throat works as his arm moves again. On this swipe, his hand moves higher than before, over that dip just above my inner thighs, painfully close to my core. His broad palm slips over my stomach, skirting the boundary as his fingertips trace the lower ridge of my opposite hip bone.
I buck against his hand, all sensation and foreign twinges. I can’t see his hand through the thick layer of bubbles, but, god, I can feel it.
“Neither is better, Bailey. I already told you this. I’m just here to see what you decide.”
“But what do men li—”
“No. Don’t ask yourself that. What do you like?”
He looks incredibly handsome, kneeling beside the tub. I want to drag him in here with me.
“I mean … ” I lick my lips, trying to form words when every cell in my body is ready to explode over the sensation of Beau’s fingers tracing my hip. His eyes on me make me feel exposed, even though soapy white bubbles conceal my entire body. “I don’t know what I like. I usually just trim everything. As I’m sure you noticed the other night.”
His responding chuckle is deep and raspy. It oozes sex and experience. “Bailey, trust me,” he says, palm sliding up and shaping my waist. “That’s not what I noticed.”
“What did you notice?”
He groans, eyes flickering shut for a beat. “The noises you made,” he confesses quietly as his palm slides up over my ribs. “How wet you were.” The edge of his hand skims the lower swell of my breasts as he continues his gentle assault on my senses.
I whimper, fixated on the stern expression of concentration painting every feature of his face.
His big, strong hand slides down the center line of my torso and cups my sex. “The way you shook when you came for me.” His thumb swipes over the trimmed pubic hair. “So, no, Bailey. I didn’t give a fuck about this. I was too busy holding myself back from sliding into you.”
Those fingers don’t make a single move. They’re there, but he doesn’t try anything. We’re in a standoff, eyes locked, panting more than breathing. His lips are so close to mine that I can’t help but drop my gaze to them, remembering the way he kissed me last night.
Soundly. Like he couldn’t control himself enough to stay away. Like I undid him, and he undid me too.
“I know what I want,” I murmur.
“Yeah?”
He thinks I’m still talking about shaving.
But I’m not.
“I want you to kiss me.” My lips part as I suck in a breath on the heels of my confession and watch raptly as his tongue slides out over his bottom lip.
Then his hand on my center moves to cupping my cheek as he angles my face to his and takes my mouth in a searing kiss. One that has me bowing up out of the water, body yanked toward his by forces outside my control. Giving me exactly what I want, like he could never say no to me.
Cool air hits my nipples as his tongue slides against mine. My hand grips his neck, holding him near, not wanting him to pull away and break this moment between us. As his lips move skillfully against mine, the rasp of his stubble sends chilled gooseflesh out over my hot body.
He smells almost sweet, like limoncello.
He tastes like temptation.
He feels so damn real.
When we slow, he leaves his forehead pressed against mine, his thumb stroking over the bow of my top lip.
“This isn’t helping me decide,” I huff out with a breathless chuckle.
A deep humming sound rumbles in his chest. “Okay, well, let’s take a look. Maybe that will help you decide.”
“What—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence before Beau stands and swings a leg over the side of the oversized tub. He steps right into the water.
“I already started! There’s hair in here.”
He grins and shakes his head as he tosses his towel to the tile floor, his long, hard cock bobbing between his legs before he sinks into the bubbles. “I lived in a cave for eight days, sugar. I don’t give a fuck about a bit of your hair in the water.”
The massive hands around my waist lift my body effortlessly. He sets me on the tub’s ledge, and with gentle strokes, he removes the bubbles from my skin and hair.
My cheeks flame as he takes me in, eyes focused between my legs before dragging up. The weight of his gaze is like a sharp point gliding over my skin. Like if he stares too hard, he might pierce me.
When I glance down, my skin is rosy, taking on a pink hue, and patches of bubbles slide down different parts of my body, melting away as I bare myself to him.