Jaci Burton - Taken by Sin

His lips curved, and she nearly groaned, but bit her lip instead.

“Is that an invitation?”

She frowned, looked away. “Don’t fuck with me, Dalton. I’m not in the mood.”

He drained his glass and set it on the counter, then stalked to the tub, taking his damn sweet time making his way toward her, even though it was only a few feet.

He crouched down and laid his arms on the side of the tub. “I’m not fucking with you, Isabelle.”

His face was only a foot from hers. He smelled sweaty, outdoorsy earthy, and all male. She found his scent not at all unpleasant, and rather arousing.

“Go away.” Her voice had lowered to nearly a whisper. She didn’t trust it not to waver. Damn him for making her feel like a woman. She should stand up and point him in the direction of the door. But she wasn’t all that certain she could, or would, ask him to leave.

Instead, he dipped his hands down the side of the tub into the water. “You don’t want me to go away.”

“Yes, I do.” She didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

“I don’t want to go away.”

He waved his hands back and forth in the water, hovering so close to her left breast she felt the waves caress her nipple, harden it, and she had to stop breathing to keep from moaning. Really, this was ridiculous.

“I won’t ask you again.”

He pushed back and stood. “Then don’t ask.”

She wasn’t at all shocked when he drew his shirt off and undid the button of his jeans, then toed off his boots. He shucked his jeans and stood there gloriously naked in front of her, his cock in a semirigid state.

He made her mouth water, and her mind whirled with a mental list of about forty things she wanted to do with him in this bathroom, right now. But she couldn’t find her voice, and her limbs had become like lead. She could only watch as he stepped into the tub and situated himself at the opposite end, sliding his legs alongside hers.

She was pretty sure she’d stopped breathing, at least until he reached for her feet and set them on top of his rock hard stomach. Then she remembered to exhale.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He smiled. “Taking a bath.”

“You could have waited until I was finished.”

“What fun is that?”

“Dalton, we tried this last night, remember?”

“Vividly.”

His low, husky voice tore away at the walls she’d spent all day carefully constructing. She jerked her feet away from his grasp and scooted against the back of the tub. Unfortunately, sitting up lifted her breasts out of the water. She sank back down. Dalton grinned, grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed his face and arms, then dunked his head under the water, splashing it everywhere when he surfaced.

Her bubbles were slowly disappearing. Dalton had a wicked gleam in his eyes that Isabelle found both disconcerting and hot as blazes. She drew her legs up to her chest.

“The water’s getting cold.”

He leaned forward and turned the faucet on. Hot water streamed into the tub at the same time he pulled the drain plug. “We’ll let a little of the cold water out, and refill with hot.”

She clamped her lips together, reached for the bubble bath, and poured more in. “You’re going to smell like a girl.”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I don’t intend to smell you.”

“Are you sure?” He started to move forward.

Isabelle held up her hand. “Stop.”

“Come on, I’m clean now.”

“Quit teasing me.” He kept coming. “Dammit, Dalton, I mean it.”

That stopped him. He leaned back and laid his arms over the side of the tub. Dirty, he was sexy. Clean and wet, he was devastating. And his legs brushing up against hers, his feet sliding along her thighs and butt, were way too distracting.

“I really think we should get out.”

“You go first.”

She huffed out a sigh. “Really. You’re acting like a juvenile. I’m not playing.”

“Maybe you should.”

“And maybe you should stop playing games with me.”

His expression straightened then. “I’m not playing games, Isabelle. I’m dead serious.”

“Were you serious last night?”

He had the decency to avert his gaze for a few seconds before looking at her again, dragging his hand through his wet hair. “I don’t know what happened last night.”

“I do.”

“You do.”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me.”

“Do I have to spell it out? I’m a demon. You’re a human. You find me repulsive.”

He cocked a brow, frowned, then had the goddamn audacity to smile. And even worse, he laughed. Hard, long, and loud. If she’d had a weapon nearby, he’d be a dead man.

“Okay, we’re finished here.” She twisted, searching for the bath towel. Naked or not, she was through sitting here being humiliated. She reached for the towel, but Dalton grasped her ankles and jerked her back so hard she almost slipped under the water.

“We’re not done, Isabelle. Not by a long shot.”

“Are you out of your mind?” She fought for balance, tried to tug her legs out of his grasp, but he had a strong hold on her. He wasn’t hurting her, but he obviously had no intention of releasing her. “Let me go.”

“No. I’m in here, and we’re going to talk.” He released one of her ankles, but only to grab hold of the other foot. He began to massage the insole with both hands. God, it felt so good. He had strong fingers, and knew just where the trigger points were on her foot. All she could do was glare, and at the same time melt under the sweet assault of his fingers.

When he finished that foot, he picked up the other and did the same thing.

“I don’t hear you talking,” she said, tapping her fingers on the edge of the tub.

“Oh, yeah.” He smiled. “Sorry, I got distracted.” He lifted her foot out of the water and kissed her toes, one by one. “You have really beautiful feet.”

“Stop that.” She squeezed her thighs together, trying to banish the sensations evoked by his tongue on her toes. “Talk, or I really am going to get out of the tub.”

He released her foot, his expression changing. “Okay. Look, about last night. I’m sorry. I backed off, and I had no reason to.”

He had every reason to and she knew why. “I’m a demon. I wouldn’t want me, either.”

“Would you let me talk?”

“Fine.” This was pointless. And she still couldn’t believe she was sitting naked in the tub with him.

“I’ve tried to keep my distance from you.”

She cocked a brow.

“Yeah, I know. Let me finish. I wanted to give you space to deal with what happened in Italy, but it was more than that.”

“I know.”

His lips curled. “No, you don’t know.”

“I do. It’s okay. You have no idea what you’d be dealing with. Before, on the yacht in Italy, when we made love, you thought you were making love to a human. Now, you know you’re not.”

“What?”

“I’m a demon. I could …well, who knows what I could do in the throes of passion, especially considering what’s been going on with me since we got here. The demon could come out when we’re in the middle of-”

“Did it last night?”

“What?”

“When I had you stretched out on the kitchen table last night, was it the demon writhing, moaning, and climaxing, Isabelle?”

Damn him for bringing that up, for causing heat to ignite as she remembered how it felt to be laid out on the table, to remember his hand and mouth on her and how he’d made her feel.

“Was it?” he pressed.

“No.”

“That’s right, it wasn’t.”

“Then why the hell did you stop?” She met his gaze evenly, refusing to look away, even though it embarrassed her to ask the question.