Page 5 of My Indecent Valentine

Imelt into the bathtub like a pat of cold butter in a hot pan. My skin flushes beneath the stinging water, just shy of scalding. As I slowly acclimate, the heat soaks into my muscles, and holy sweet bliss, I groan at the fluttering spasms of tight muscles contracting before they release. The shudders start in my legs and feet and move up my lower back to my shoulders and neck. Tension seeps away, and between the heat and the oil, it’s not long until I’m as soft and slippery as an overcooked noodle.

I breathe deeply, inhaling the decadent aroma of rose petals and nightbloom oil, and wonder at the effort Samite has gone to just for me. He was right, of course. I am enjoying this. I love a hot bath. Who doesn’t? It’s just that sometimes I can’t seem to shake the guilt. I grew up differently from Samite. My parents worked hard and made do with very little. They stretched everything they brought home, making it go twice as far. It’s a practical way to survive but an exhausting way to live.

When I left home, I did alright for myself. As a professional chef working in fine dining, I dipped my toes in the world of indulgence and luxury, but nothing like the life I have now with Samite. Sometimes, it still feels wrong.

But perhaps not as wrong as ignoring this gorgeous tower of chocolates. It calls to me, the assortment of truffles, bonbons, pralines, and nougats. All of them shine with the glossy finish of tempered chocolate and a tantalizing sheen of luster dust. I nibble at my bottom lip as my fingers wiggle above the tower of confections. It’s so hard to choose when they’re all so beautiful.

I select a gold-flecked bonbon and pop it in my mouth whole. My teeth crunch through the snappy chocolate shell, sinking into a rich dark chocolate ganache. Notes of ripe raspberries and delicate orange blossom melt like velvet on my palate, and I let out an appreciative sigh at the lovely balance of bitter, sweet, tart, and floral. Fuck me, it’s perfect.

My eyes drift toward the fireplace, a present from my demon husband who knows exactly how I feel about fire. My heart squeezes. He couldn’t have picked a more perfect gift. I love it even if it feels like too much.

My gaze catches on the jumping flames, and off I go, slipping into a peaceful, meditative state. I float away for what feels like only a moment before I hear my name.

“Sofia.” Samite is calling me from far away, and yet I can feel his breath behind my ear. “Come back, my love,” he whispers as his lips trail soft kisses down my neck.

I slide back into my body, and turning my head, I’m greeted by my favorite smile in the whole world. “I think I might have over-poached you,” he says, sounding both delighted and smug as he kisses the tip of my nose. I nuzzle my face against his.

“That’s a fireable offense,” I say, and he laughs. I take his offered hand and let him help me out of my bath. I sigh my way into a pillowy robe, and he leads me down the hall.

“Prepare yourself,” he says as we approach the door to our bedroom. I don’t. One, because I don’t know what that means, and two, because I’m too relaxed to care.

The door swings open, and I gasp. My hands fly to my mouth, and like a kite caught by the wind, I’m pulled into the room by the most beautiful sight I’ve ever beheld. Everywhere I look, there are flame-filled glass orbs, hundreds of them, floating in the air overhead, filling the entire room. Above the bed, they’re clustered tighter, forming a brilliantly glowing canopy that drapes all four sides.

“How?” It’s the only word my mind can form.

“A little blown glass, some tinsel, a bit of chemistry, and a touch of very expensive and very rare fire magic to heighten the experience.” He turns to give me a mischievous grin.

“Fire magic?” My pulse quickens.

“You did say you were open to trying something a little more adventurous. I’ve procured us a bit of prepared magic. Are you still game?” he asks.

“Oh yes, most definitely,” I answer as a thrill runs through my body. There’s so much more to fire than heat. There’s a whole world of magic I’ve never experienced. My heart flutters in eager anticipation.

He grins and, looking back to the canopy, he asks, “Does it call to you?” There’s a breathy quality to his voice that tells me he feels the same wonder I do.

“It does,” I say, and as my gaze starts to go soft and unfocused, I feel my feet drifting towards the bed. Samite steps into view, blocking my path.

“Sofia, are you with me?” he asks.

I blink, and my eyes refocus on his face. I rest a palm against his chest and smile. “Of course I’m here.”

“When you slip into the fire, may I touch you?”

I run my fingers over his jaw. “As much as you please, mi esposo. My body is yours.”

He frowns at my answer, and I laugh. I know what he wants to hear.

“All of me, Samite. You have all of me, tonight and always. I trust you, mi amor. Mi cielo. Mi corazón.” I kiss him lightly after each term of endearment, and on the last, he catches the sides of my face in cupped hands, claiming my mouth in a hungry kiss. His sharp teeth graze the pout of my lip. My tongue darts out, and he opens for me, welcoming me in with a sweep of his tongue.

“You won’t need this,” he says, nudging my robe off my shoulders. It drops and pools at my feet.

“And you don’t need your shirt or your pants,” I say. My fingers fly down the row of buttons from his collar to his zipper, fast and efficient because I know his buttons well. Samite, as always, is gratifyingly quick to strip. There’s not a shy bone in his body, though I have to smile when he takes a moment to neatly fold his clothes and crosses the room to set them on the dresser. He’s an adorable mix of immodest and fastidious.

When he turns, standing before me naked and proud, the hundreds of tiny fires fade from my awareness. I see only him, my eager and glorious demon husband, broad in the shoulders, slim in the hips, strong all over. My mouth waters as my eyes run hot trails over his dark red skin, so sinfully smooth and inviting.

When my gaze rises to meet his, I catch the first fine wisps of smoke escaping from the corners of his eyes, a mark of his arousal. “You are beautiful, Sofia,” he murmurs, and the plumes become thicker, floating up to form a dark halo around his horns. My skin flushes hot, and my pulse throbs achingly between my thighs. When Samite’s eyes smoke for me, I unravel for him. I run at him, and he catches me around the hips as I leap into his arms. My legs wrap around his waist, and my mouth finds his. I would eat him alive if I wasn’t so determined to keep him.

He carries me towards the bed, fingers biting into my cheeks, as he murmurs lurid promises into my mouth.

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