Page 144 of Wisteria and Cloves

I leaned into his touch, a small smile playing at my lips. "I'm not too tired for you," I admitted softly, my voice carrying more confidence than I would have thought possible weeks ago. "I've been thinking about it too."

Christopher's pupils dilated at my words, his thumb brushing across my lower lip in a touch so light it might have been my imagination. "Have you now? And what exactly have you been thinking about, wildflower?"

The nickname made warmth bloom in my chest. I glanced up at him through my lashes, emboldened by the heat in his gaze. "About your hands," I whispered. "How they move when you're cooking. How careful they are. How... skilled."

A low sound rumbled in his chest, something between a growl and a groan. "My hands, hmm?" His fingers slid from my jaw to my neck, before he took a step back.

“Go take a nice bath, and if you want after some time relaxing…and if you’re still up for it, I’m all yours.” He told me, I could see the look of hunger flash over his eyes.

I nodded, already anticipating the warm water and quiet moment to process everything from the last day. But as I turnedtoward the stairs, Christopher's hand caught mine, spinning me back into his arms with gentle force.

"One more thing," he murmured, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was both promise and preview. It was deeper than his usual playful pecks, his tongue sweeping against mine with deliberate skill that made my knees weak. When he pulled back, we were both breathing harder.

"Just so you know what you're getting into." he said with a wicked grin, releasing me with obvious reluctance.

I practically floated up the stairs, my body still humming from his kiss. The bathroom felt like a sanctuary as I filled the oversized tub with steaming water, adding lavender oil that would help ease the pleasant soreness in my muscles. I let myself fully relax, even though my body was anticipating what t Christopher had instore for me.

Chapter Fifty-One

Lilianna

I’d finished my bath and curled up in my nest with a book, letting my mind drift back to the camping trip with Miles. The warm water had eased the pleasant ache in my muscles, and being wrapped in a soft robe, I felt both relaxed and strangely alert. My skin seemed more sensitive, my senses heightened as I recalled the way Christopher had looked at me in the kitchen.

The book in my hands couldn't hold my attention. My thoughts kept wandering to his kiss, to the promise in his eyes when he'd told me to take a bath. I wondered if he was waiting for me to come to him, or if he would come find me when he was ready.

A soft knock at my door answered that question.

"Come in," I called, setting the book aside and sitting up straighter in my nest.

Christopher appeared in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space with quiet confidence. His jaw was tight. Controlled. Buthis eyes—those deep, unguarded eyes—burned with intent. “You look like temptation itself,” he said softly, shutting the door behind him with a deliberateclick.

“You’re the one who told me to take a bath,” I said, my voice catching as I sat up straighter in my nest, the strap of my nightgown sliding slightly off my shoulder. “I’m just following orders.”

Christopher didn’t smile. He crossed the room in three silent steps, his gaze raking over me as he knelt beside the edge of the nest. His hand reached out, fingers tracing the silk strap that had slipped down my arm with reverent care. "Following orders," he repeated, his voice rough with barely contained desire. "I like the sound of that."

The touch of his fingertips against my skin sent electricity racing through me. I shivered, not from cold but from the intensity of his gaze as he watched my reaction to his touch.

"Christopher," I whispered, his name a plea I wasn't entirely sure how to finish.

"I know," he murmured, his thumb brushing along my collarbone. "I can smell your arousal, wildflower. Sweet and intoxicating." His other hand came up to cup my face, tilting my chin so I had to meet his eyes.

His touch was feather-light as he traced the line of my collarbone with one hand, his eyes following the path of his fingers with reverent attention. The silk nightgown felt almost too thin under his gaze, and I shivered despite the warmth of the room.

"Christopher," I breathed, my hands reaching for him instinctively.

"Shh," he whispered, catching my hands and pressing them gently back to my sides. "Let me take care of you. You've been so brave, so strong. Let me show you how much that means to me."

He moved with deliberate slowness, his hands mapping every curve through the silk as if committing each detail to memory. When his fingers found the hem of my nightgown, he paused, looking up to meet my gaze.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I nodded, my breath catching as he slowly lifted the silk up my thighs, over my hips, revealing more of me with each passing second. When he finally pulled the nightgown over my head, leaving me bare beneath his heated gaze, I resisted the urge to cover myself. The way he looked at me—like I was art, like I was precious—made me feel beautiful rather than exposed.

"Perfect," he murmured, setting the silk aside without taking his eyes off me. His hands skimmed my sides, thumbs brushing just beneath my breasts as he leaned down to press a kiss to my throat. The gentle pressure of his lips against my pulse point made me gasp, my back arching involuntarily toward him.

"So responsive," Christopher murmured against my skin, his breath warm and teasing. "I've dreamed about this—about having you spread out in your nest, completely mine to worship."

His mouth traced a path down my throat, pausing to lavish attention on my collarbone before continuing lower. When his lips found the sensitive spot just below my ear, I couldn't suppress the soft moan that escaped me.

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