Page 85 of A Literary Liaison
With infinite care, he helped her into the warm water, his touch gentle and respectful even as desire blazed in his eyes. Elisha sank into the lavender-scented bath with a sigh of pure pleasure, feeling the tension of the past days begin to melt away.
“Better?” Edgar asked, settling on a stool beside the tub, his sleevesrolled up and coat discarded.
“Much.” She leaned back against the copper rim, studying his face in the golden light. “You look as though you need this more than I do.”
Edgar chuckled, some of the strain around his eyes easing. “Watching you navigate my family’s expectations while hiding my own feelings proved more challenging than I’d anticipated.”
“Your feelings?” she asked softly.
His hand found hers where it rested on the edge of the tub, fingers intertwining with infinite tenderness. “The urge to claim you publicly, to show everyone that you belong with me. The frustration of maintaining proper distance when all I wanted was to touch you, to reassure myself you were mine.”
Warmth spread through her chest. “I’m yours,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he agreed, bringing her wet hand to his lips for a kiss. “You’re real, and you’re mine.”
As the water began to cool, Edgar retrieved soft towels warmed by the fire. His movements were careful, respectful, yet charged with an intimacy that made Elisha’s skin tingle with awareness.
“Turn around,” he said softly. “Let me wash your hair.”
The simple request sent shivers down her spine. She complied, gathering her copper curls and lifting them as Edgar’s gentle hands worked sweet-scented soap through the strands. His touch was hypnotic, fingers massaging her scalp with tender care.
“You have the most beautiful hair,” he murmured, his voice rough with something deeper than mere appreciation. “Like copper wire touched with flame.”
When he began rinsing the soap away, warm water cascading down her back, Elisha felt herself melting under his ministrations. This was intimacy beyond anything she’d imagined—not rushed passion but patient devotion, the kind of care that spoke of a future filled with such tender moments.
“Your turn,” she said when he’d finished, turning to face him with water droplets clinging to her lashes.
Edgar’s eyes widened. “Elisha, you needn’t—”
“Fair is fair,” she interrupted with a smile that felt more confident than she felt. “Besides, I want to.”
Carefully, she rose from the tub, accepting the towel Edgar wrapped around her. The sight of her standing before him, hair damp and skin glowing from the warm water, seemed to steal his ability to protest further.
“The water’s still warm,” she said softly, her newfound boldness surprising them both. “Let me tend to you now.”
Her fingers worked at his cravat with deliberate slowness, then moved to the buttons of his waistcoat. Each piece of clothing was removed with the same reverent care he’d shown her, until he stood before her magnificently bare in the flickering candlelight.
When his chest was revealed, she couldn’t help but trace the strong lines of muscle with wondering fingertips. “My turn to say beautiful,” she whispered, and felt him shudder under her touch.
“Elisha,” he breathed, her name coming out rough with desire.
“Into the tub,” she commanded gently, and watched with fascination as this powerful duke obeyed her soft-spoken direction. The water displaced around his larger frame as he settled into the copper basin, his knees drawn up in the confined space.
She knelt beside the tub as he had done for her, reaching for the soap with eager hands. “Let me tend to you,” she murmured, beginning to wash his broad shoulders with tender care.
Edgar’s eyes fell closed as her soapy hands explored the planes of his chest, following the path of dark hair that arrowed downward. When her fingers grew bolder, tracing lower, his sharp intake of breath made her pulse race with newfound power.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned as her touch grew more deliberate.
“I certainly hope not,” she replied slyly, “when I’ve only just begun to explore you properly.”
His response was a mix of grunt and chuckle, soon swallowed by her searching mouth. With a groan, his large hand cupped the back of her head as he devoured her mouth. Elisha consumed his every gasp, every groan, as her soapy hand roamed his body. She learned what made him pant, what made his muscles tense with pleasure as she teased him with gentle caresses on his abdomen, then between his thighs. When she stroked his balls under water and felt them draw tight while he exhaled sharply, she felt a heady rush of feminine triumph.
“Elisha,” Edgar’s voice was strained as her curious exploration grew more purposeful. “What are you—oh, Christ—”
“Showing you how thoroughly you’ve corrupted your proper young lady,” she whispered against his ear before gripping his hard length. With her soapy hand, she stroked him firmly from the root to the tip, reveling in his hardness and thickness. The combination of warm water, slippery soap, and her increasingly bold ministrations soon had Edgar gripping the edges of the tub, his control hanging by the thinnest of threads.
“I need…” he started, then seemed to lose the ability to form coherent words.
