Page 63 of The Scent of Intuition
“There was something I heard. ‘No woman ever failed to finish in this closet.’”
“Hm!” Good to know. Except that he didn’t want to know. He’d rather find out how Bea finished. She’d probably do amazingly well, considering that she had no scruples about conversing with him stark naked from her vantage point in the tub—his tub. Even the tub was lucky, just like the bubbles. What Alfie longed for was what was between the tin of the tub and the lovely layer of bubbles, the body sheathed from his view.
“I should go.”
“No, please!”
“Do you need anything, a towel or a bar of soap?” Alfie turned toward the door. He couldn’t just stand there and look at her. It was too hard to hold back. He put both hands in his pockets and stood there, not allowing his hands to go where his mind had already ventured.
“I am two-and-twenty years old. I’ve never managed to reach this finishing point. I’m certain I know nothing of how it’s done.”
He had not heard right. This was his mind playing tricks. The scented oils lured his imagination so he couldn’t discern reality from wishful thinking.
“Please! You know so much of the human body. You studied medicine and pharmacy. You, you—”
Alfie swallowed again; his Adam’s apple bobbed and suddenly his cravat was too tight.
He tugged at it to loosen it just a bit. His eyes searched for the window, but it was all fogged up. The steam from the hot water had shrouded them in privacy, so even the dim sunlight couldn’t find them.
“What are you asking me exactly?” He was just a man, after all, in heat. Unforgivably so, actually. And yet, he had to hear it. He’d bring her a towel if she said she needed it. If she said she needed a cup of tea, that’s what he’d get. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t give for the beauty in his tub blinking at him innocently with the expression of a student about to embark upon a science experiment.
“I wonder if you’d be inclined to show me.”
“Show you?”
She arched her back and brought both hands to her breasts. The foam parted, and he saw the perky round mounds, her hands covering her buds. “I can’t manage it when I know the next motion. It mustn’t come from my own hand.”
“So you want mine?”
“Yes. Do you know how to make a woman finish?”
“Yes,” Alfie croaked. This could not be real. He pushed his hands into his pockets, hoping he’d burn them on something and wake up. This dream was too dangerous for him; he couldn’t continue down this path unharmed.
“Alfie?” Her voice echoed faintly in the room. “Alfie?”
He heard her well, but had he heard well?
“I’m sorry,” her voice was low now. “My apologies if I embarrassed you.” She heaved for air and slid down in the water. The bubbles closed over where she’d gone down, closing the layer of foam. Her knees were all he could see, two islands in the foam.
Wait, wasn’t she coming up for air?
“Bea?” Alfie called.
“I’m here,” she said, emerging with wet hair and foam on her face. Her eyes were closed.
Alfie reached for the towel she’d hung on the rim of the tub. Half had been immersed in the water and was soaked, heavy with moisture. She reached for it and dried her face, then dropped the towel on the floor next to the tub. She brushed both hands over her face and hair, stroking it out of her face. The long tresses in the water floated in elegant curls.
Alfie’s body was so hard he could be a beam holding up a house. What he couldn’t hold was his composure.
“Thank you. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
“You did not.”
She shrugged, and the foam parted over one of her breasts. Alfie tried not to look. Not to stare, but it was impossible. The little pink nipple couldn’t have pulled him more if he were wrapped in a rope and brought ashore to the gorgeous floating island that was this bud.
“I want to be kissed. I want to know what it feels like to finish like other women told me. I tried to manage it myself, but it’s not working.”
Alfie cleared his throat and scratched his neck. It wasn’t itchy; he just needed to know this was not one of his many dirty dreams.
