Chapter 112: Bathroom Sex I
Sean walked half a step behind her, watching the way the morning light caught the curve of her bare shoulder, the loose tumble of red hair that hadn’t yet been tamed by a brush.
The steam hit them first. Warm and fragrant, thick with lavender and sandalwood. Candles flickered on the marble countertop. The tub dominated the center of the room, a deep white basin filled to the brim with bubbles that caught the candlelight and threw it back in tiny, iridescent sparks.
Olivia stopped just inside the doorway. Her breath caught.
"Sean. This is—"
She didn’t finish. Couldn’t, maybe. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the candles, the steam, the mountain of white foam. Her robe hung loose on her shoulders, and he could see the rise and fall of her chest quicken.
He stepped behind her. Close enough that his chest nearly brushed her back. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
She rose on her toes and kissed Sean.
The kiss started soft. But the softness didn’t last. Her fingers tightened on his robe, pulling him closer, and her lips parted, and the taste of her flooded his senses.
His hands found her waist. The robe was thin—one layer of cotton between his palms and her skin—and he could feel the shape of her beneath it. The inward curve of her waist. The flare of her hip. The heat building wherever his fingers pressed.
She made a small sound against his mouth.
He smiled into the kiss. "Someone’s eager."
"Someone drew me a bubble bath and then kissed me like that." She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "What did you expect?"
"Fair point."
His hands slid upward. From her waist to her ribs. From her ribs to the swell of her breasts. The robe had loosened—when had it loosened?—and his thumbs found bare skin at the edge of the fabric.
Her breath stuttered.
"Sean."
"Yeah?"
"Touch me."
He did.
His hands closed over her breasts, and the weight of them in his palms made him groan. Soft. Full. Perfect. His thumbs found her nipples through the thin cotton, and he circled them slowly, deliberately, feeling them tighten and peak under his touch.
Her head fell back. Her mouth opened on a silent gasp.
"That’s—" She swallowed. "That’s good."
"Just good?"
"Fishing for compliments?"
"Always."
She laughed, but the sound broke halfway through when he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Gentle at first. Then firmer. The way she’d responded to last night. The way he was learning she liked.
Her hands gripped his wrists. Not to stop him. To hold him there.
"Better than good," she breathed. "Better than—oh."
He’d pinched. Lightly. Just enough.
Her knees buckled.
He caught her. One arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. His mouth found the curve of her neck, just below her ear, and she shivered against him.
"The bath," she managed. "We should—the water’s going to get—"
"It’s heated. Has a thermostat."
"You thought of everything."
"I tried."
She turned in his arms. Faced him. Her robe had fallen open completely now, hanging from her shoulders like an afterthought. Her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breath. The necklace glittered at her collarbone. The bubbles from the tub cast dancing shadows across her skin.
Her fingers found the belt of his robe. Tugged.
She shrugged. The robe slid from her shoulders and pooled at her feet. One heartbeat. Two. She stood before him in nothing but candlelight and steam and that diamond pendant.
"Better?"
His voice came out rougher than he intended. "Much."
Her hands worked his belt free. The robe fell open, and she pushed it off his shoulders with the same quiet reverence she’d shown everything he’d given her. His chest. His shoulders. The lean muscle of his abdomen. Her palms traced the topography of his body like she was memorizing it.
"You’re beautiful," she murmured.
"I think that’s my line."
"Too bad. I stole it."
She stepped backward toward the tub. Her hand found his, fingers interlacing, and she pulled him with her. Step by step. The steam curled around them. The candles flickered.
She stepped into the water first. Sank down with a sigh that was almost indecent. The bubbles swallowed her to the collarbone, leaving only her head and shoulders visible above the foam.
Sean followed.
The water was perfect—hot enough to loosen muscles, not hot enough to scald. He settled opposite her, his legs finding hers beneath the bubbles. She hooked one ankle around his calf. A casual intimacy. A quiet claim.
But he wasn’t finished.
He reached for her. His hands found her waist beneath the water, and he pulled her toward him. She came willingly, water sloshing, bubbles scattering. In one fluid motion, she was straddling his lap, her thighs bracketing his hips, her arms winding around his neck.
Sean used her hands to fondle Olivia’s breasts. This time was different because she wasnt putting on her robe. Nothing between his palms and her skin. He cupped her, thumbs circling her nipples, and she arched into his touch like a cat seeking sunlight.
Her nipples were dark pink against the pale cream of her breasts. Tight. Eager. He rolled one between his fingers, and she made a sound that was half moan and half whimper.
"Sensitive?" he asked.
"In the best way."
He leaned forward. Took one nipple into his mouth.
Her back arched. Her fingers fisted in his hair. The water splashed around them as her hips ground down against his, and he felt the heat of her—even through the bathwater, he could feel how ready she was.
He sucked. Gently. Then harder. His tongue circled the tight peak, and she moaned—loud and unguarded, the sound echoing off the marble walls.
"Sean. Sean, that’s—"
He switched to the other breast. Same attention. Same result.
Her nails raked down his shoulders.
Her breathing was ragged now, her hips rolling in a rhythm that was half instinct and half desperation. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance—not inside, not yet, but close enough that every movement sent sparks up his spine.