Page 65 of The Fiance Dilemma

“Sweats. No shirt,” he answered. Fast. Diligently. My pulse sped up. “Ask me more.”

“Are you in bed?”

“Yes. More.”

A soft puff of air left me. “Tucked inside or over the covers?”

“I’m sitting, back against my headboard, covers at my feet.”

I hummed. That was a nice visual. I liked it. A little too much. “Are your glasses on?”

Matthew’s husky laugh came through the line, the sound curling around my ears, easing me and awakening a specific part of me. “Is this a kink I should know about?”

“Maybe,” I told him, voice soft.

There was a pause, and an audible swallow. “Tell me what you see.”

“My knees,” I answered. “They’re peeking out of the water. Which is pink. And there’re bubbles.”

“And what do you smell, huh? I’m sure something nice.”

“Essential oils. Lavender, berries, and peppermint.”

He hummed, the sound appreciative and… something else. Something that made me shift in the tub. Anticipation starting to climb up my spine. “What can you feel against your skin, Josie?”

“I…” I wetted my lips. “I can feel everything.” He let out another hum, encouraging me. “The steam and sweat clinging to my shoulders and face. The bubbles, bursting against my arms and chest. My… legs, slippery when I move.”

“Does it feel nice?” he asked, voice tickling my ear it was so deep. “When you move inside that tub you’ve filled with all those wonderful things?”

“Yes,” I answered, and God, I could feel my blood pumping at an increasing rhythm, rising to my face, dropping to my feet.

“Where are your hands, Josie?”

My stomach dipped. “One holding the phone. The other one in the water.”

“Where exactly? Describe it to me. Is it on your thigh? Belly? Chest?”

I swallowed, my eyelids fluttering shut. We were really doing this. He was doing what I’d asked for, and the knowledge, the close approach of the line we were about to cross, made me… breathless.Heady. Hesitate. “Matthew,” I whispered. That’s it. That was all. His name.

“Where,” he repeated. A demand. It made all that doubt melt away. Almost completely. It also made me want to ask him to please bark more demands. Take the reins I didn’t know how to hold. “Close your eyes,” he said, and the way he’d somehow guessed. Known. Read me. Even through the phone, almost made me want to weep. Laugh. “Now.”

My eyelids shut, and I leaned my head back onto the tub rest.

He let out a strained sound as if he could see me. Obedient. Eyes shut. “Now tell me, where’s your hand, Baby Blue?”

Baby Blue.“On my thigh.”

“I want you to bring it up,” he instructed, pulling an exhale out of me. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Where?” Another broken breath left me. “How? I—”

“Drag it slowly up your body, letting the tips of your fingers draw a line on your skin. All the way up to your hip, belly, stopping at the swells of your breasts.”

My blood swirled at the clarity of his instructions, the hardness in his voice, how much I loved hearing it. I moved, dragging my hand impossibly slow, every touch, shiver, and caress feeling twice as powerful with my eyes closed and Matthew’s breath in my ear.

“Is it there?” Matthew asked, and I nodded my head with a soft hum. “Good. Now, I want you to take your breast in your hand and do whatever makes you feel good, Josie. I want to hear a little moan. Think you can give me that?”

“I want to. I can try,” I murmured, but when I did I just…

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