Page 58 of Little Dove

I lean back, resting my head against a soft bath pillow, and let out a sigh of contentment. Okay, yeah, this is amazing. I’m ruined for any other kind of bathtub; all others will pale in comparison after this. My body floats slightly in the water, but the bubbles still cover me so I don’t overly care. I hear the bathroom door open, and Lazaro comes in, now wearing only a pair of simple black lounge pants that hide nothing. He has some things in his hands that I can’t quite make out in the shadows.

My gaze zeros in again on the way the pants cup him, outlining every inch. A part of me really wants to see him out of those pants, and see if my eyes are deceiving me, but the other part allows me to blurt out, “I know I said it before, but I really do mean it. That thing is not going to fit, and you’ll probably split me in two. I think we need to call this whole thing off, call it a good experiment and be done.”

Lazaro lets out a low laugh as he grabs the stool in the corner of the room and sets it directly behind my head, placing whatever is in his hand on the floor. I turn myself quickly to see what he’s doing, but all he does is sit down and grin down at me. “Like I said before, you can take me,dolcezza, and I’ll take great delight in making sure of it. But don’t worry about that right now. We’re not going that far tonight.”

I watch him dubiously. “You don’t want me to worry that you thinkthatthing is going to fit in a tiny hole? I know we’re supposed to stretch, but there are limits.”

Lazaro’s face is full of amusement, clearly not taking me seriously. But I am not joking. “Colombina,” he tries to soothe me, but doesn’t quite manage to keep the humor out of his voice to accomplish it.

“Jesus Christ, it’s going to be like those memes where the giant train tries to smash his way through the small tunnel hole and get stopped with just the tip of it in. Blood, death, carnage.” I can’t seem to stop the word vomit, even as Lazaro outrightlaughs harder and harder, leaning against the edge of the tub to keep his balance, head hanging down. I turn myself completely in the tub to face him, still keeping my body under the bubbles. “It’s not funny, Lazaro,” I gripe. “It’s a serious problem we need to solve before we get too far into this.”

It takes him another full minute to get himself under control. He wipes at his face, and grins at me. “You,dolcezza, will always make life interesting.” Then he leans forward, reaching out to cup the back of my head and drawing me to him to press a kiss to my mouth.

Okay, this I can handle. I grip the lip of the tub, pulling myself closer and falling into the taste of him. He always tastes so good, and I love the way he kisses me. It’s like just the touch of his lips can erase any worries or fears I’m feeling and leave me able to focus on only him.

It’s not long before the kiss deepens, and I’m trying to get closer to him. I wrap my arm around his neck and pull myself into him, my belly bumping the pillow and the cooler air hitting my skin. I gasp at the sensation, pulling my mouth away and trying to jerk back under the water, but he holds me still. His eyes never dip down, staring into mine intently. “Shhhh, I have you. This is part of the exploring,colombina. To become comfortable with each other.” Gently, with the barest touch, he moves one hand from my back, along my side and back down just before the rest of me dips back in the water. My skin pebbles at the sensation and I shiver. My breath catches when I see the laughter in his gaze replaced with a dark desire.

My arm eases around his neck, and my hand comes down shakily on his shoulder. The heat of his body fills my palm, and I’m pretty sure he’s hotter than the bathwater. He brushes along my sides, his eyes never leaving mine, and my courage builds enough that I slowly let my hand move along his shoulder, over his collarbone. His only reaction is to adjust himself in his seatand lean closer so that he’s giving me more access to his neck, back and arms.

It’s so innocent, nothing overly sexual about this whole scene, but yet it’s far more erotic than I can comprehend. Nothing else matters but the feel of his hands on me, of mine on him. Of this careful exploration. My skin is on fire, my bones feel heavy, and yet light at the same time. I move my hand back up along his neck, and I hear his breath hitch. I repeat the motion to see if I get the same reaction.

I do. Oh, it seems someone is sensitive. The knowledge of that fills me with a kind of power I’m unsure what to do with. I turn my fingers so it’s my nails skimming along his skin, and this time, he closes his eyes for the briefest second before they flash back open, burning as they stare at me. Then it’s my turn for my breath to hitch when I feel one of his hands shift direction and skim across my ribs, then along the thin skin under my breast. He doesn’t touch it, but the proximity isn’t lost on me. My breath quickens and my heart pounds.

“Slow and steady,colombina,” he murmurs, a low rumble of sound that centers me. “I’ll stop if you want me to. All you have to say is so.” Do I want him to stop? I focus on the feel of his hands, and realize that I like it. I shake my head. “I need you to use your words,colombina. I need to hear you give me permission before we move forward.”

“I-I don’t want you to s-stop,” I stammer out, the words hard to push past my lips, but I manage. “It feels good,” I add, trying to make sure he understands that I’m not just saying that.

His eyes search mine, but he must accept that I’m telling the truth, because he slowly and carefully moves his hand up to brush the underside of my breast. He rubs his thumb along, sending shivers through me, and unbidden, my fingers curl slightly into the side of his neck in reaction. He lets out a smallsound, and his hand moves to cup my breast carefully in his palm.

It startles me slightly, but my body instinctively moves into his touch, arching forward. The roughness of his palm against my hard nipple is stark, and sends shocks through my body. I never knew my breasts could be so sensitive. All from a touch? How is that possible? His other hand comes up to do the same to the other side, but this time, instead of his palm, I feel his thumb and forefinger lightly pinching my nipple. Nothing painful, but it’s a shock to my system.

I gasp again, overwhelmed by it all. “Lazaro,” I whisper, my hands gripping the side of his neck like it’s some kind of anchor.

“Does that feel good,colombina?” he rasps, continuing his exploration. “Do you like the feel of my fingers on your pretty nipples? I think you do, with the way they harden for me, and those sexy as fuck little noises you make. I wonder what you’ll do when I use my mouth, hmmm? Do you think you’ll like that too, Amara?”

What the hell is he asking me? He can’t seriously think I can give a straight answer right now, can he? Desire pools in my belly, the same way it did earlier and in the bunker, my core thrumming with heat and pressure. “Lazaro,” I rasp, staring into his eyes desperately. “Please.”

“Please what,dolcezza?” he purrs. “Tell me what you need. All you have to do is tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, leaning forward to take my mouth. I moan, arching and squirming to get closer to him, water splashing as I push my knees into the side of the tub to steady myself. Lazaro immediately moves one hand to my back to support me, ever the protector.

The sensation of his hand on me, and his mouth on mine, it’s so good. I want more. I want to make him feel this way too. Thisdesperate need. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I don’t think, I just move my hands from his neck, and down along his chest. He groans into my mouth when my hands trail along his ribs, tracing each one, before I move as far down his sides as I can reach before reversing my path. My right hand finds the hard nub of his nipple, and I pause, pulling my mouth from his. It’s my turn to watch him as I run my finger around it, then lightly pinch it the same way he did with mine.

He lets out a low hiss, and his grip on my back tightens slightly. His other hand repeats the same motions on my nipple too, mirroring me. “Fuck, Amara,” he grits out as his face flushes and jaw clenches.

I immediately yank my hand away. “I’m sorry,” I rasp, worried I’ve hurt him.

He stops me, a hand coming to still mine and pressing it back against him. “No,” he assures me. “It feels so fucking good to feel you touch me, Amara. Never be afraid to touch me.”

“You’re so hard everywhere,” I whisper, looking down at my hand on his chest. “Is it wrong that I want to touch you everywhere too?”

His groan deepens and I look up at him sharply, worried I’ve upset him, but watching him, I can see him struggling. Like he’s trying really hard to control himself. Was my question that bad? Then his eyes open, and the utter lust in them makes my breath catch, and my body tremble. Is this what romance writers describe in their books when the main character looks at the woman he desires so much? Is this what they mean?

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman. Fuck no, it’s not wrong for you to want to touch me. My body is yours to explore, but if we don’t slow this down and get back to my plans, I might push you farther than you’re ready for, and I won’t break your trust that way.”

There is such determination, such sincerity in his voice, that something inside me snaps. Just utterly shatters. I don’t know why; it doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s knowing that he means it. I don’t allow myself to question it, or tell myself to stop, I simply get to my feet, uncaring of the bubbles and water dripping off me. Lazaro’s eyes immediately drop to my body, taking it all in, and I see his hands clench into fists on the edge of the tub as his gaze moves up and lingers on my breasts, before sliding down to my center. I move as quickly as I can, throwing my leg over the edge of the tub to climb out.

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