Maggie Shayne - An Enchanted Season

“Oh, it’s not for me,” Rachel demurred, smiling to herself. “It’s for you.”

“Me?” He stared at her as the last of the water dripped into the tub, hazel eyes wide and brows quirked, bemused.

“Yes, you,” she confirmed with a feminine smile. “You’ve worked very hard today, and I’m very proud of you. So I’m going to bathe you. Pamper you, like you did me last night.”

He smirked at that. “If I’m in the tub when you’re trying that, you might drown.”

She gave him a mock dirty look and took the pail from his hands, setting it back by the other empty canisters, out of her way. The fourth pail, she left full for rinse water later. “Strip, mister!”

“Your command is my wish,” he said, still smirking. Pulling his sweater over his head, he sat on the edge of the tub to unlace his boots. Rachel dropped to her knees in front of him, batting his fingers away so that she could perform the task herself. It felt nice, being pampered. Even when she peeled down his socks and briefly massaged his feet, it felt good. She was even careful to lower his soles to the fuzzy green bath mat, rather than letting his feet touch the cold vinyl of the floor.

Smiling, he let her unbutton his shirt cuffs, then work her way down his chest. Shifting back, she silently urged him to stand, then unfastened his jeans. He had to help her push down the denim, since they clung to his long johns underneath. While he pulled off the undershirt, she started to lower the silk-knit leggings.

That brought a certain part of his anatomy into view, reminding her of what she had done with him last night. Grinning, Rachel lifted his shaft, pressing a kiss to its tip. Steve groaned softly, stroking her dark brown hair with one hand. He stopped her after a few more moments, if reluctantly. “It may have warmed up in here, with all that water heating the place, but I’m going to freeze if I don’t get into the bath. And if I freeze,” he stated wryly, “I’ll shrivel up and won’t be of any use to you tonight.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Rachel agreed, amusement coloring her reply. “Into the bath with you. I need to shed a layer or two so I can bathe you without overheating or getting too wet.”

“So long as you get nicely wet…”

She smiled as she pulled off her own sweater, watching him climb into the tub once her face was free. The water was hot enough to make him hiss through his teeth, but not so hot that he couldn’t sink down into it with a groaning sigh. The bliss smoothing the furrows in his brow made her glad she had thought of doing this for him. Stripping to her undershirt and long johns, Rachel tossed their clothes in the hamper, took their boots back into the bedroom, rearranged the milk pails a little more out of the way, then found the sea sponge he had given her for her birthday two years ago. She hadn’t used it in about seven months, which meant it was long overdue. That it was for him instead of her didn’t matter; it was the ritual of the thing that made it special.

Steve knew she liked using it for special occasions, for when she wanted to feel extra-feminine and pampered. When he spotted it in her hands, he blushed a little. Not that he thought she was going to make him more feminine by using it, but because she was going to spoil him by association with her favorite bathing ritual. He watched her dip the sponge into the bathwater, then anoint it with some of her body wash, working the sponge into a lather.

When she picked up his near arm and began gently scrubbing his muscles, Steve let her manipulate him as she willed. The combination of slick suds and scratchy sponge relaxed and invigorated him. Coupled with the attention she was giving him, he felt a renewal of the love he knew she held for him. He had given her care and attention last night, reasserting what had been suppressed by the troubles in their lives. Now she was giving it back to him.

“I don’t know…” He trailed off, unsure if he should say it.

Rachel looked up from his shoulder and upper chest, working her way across to his other arm. “You don’t know…what?”

“I don’t know if you’re just reviving my deep love for you, or making me fall in love with you all over again,” he murmured diffidently, and watched her blush with pleasure. He smiled. “I think a little of both.”

“Good. We’ve forgotten to do things like this,” Rachel said, reaching across him to scrub at his other arm. Soap smeared across one breast from his closer arm, dampening and turning her undershirt translucent. “We were on a pattern spiraling down into dullness, weren’t we? I mean…not that you’re dull , but that we’d gone and forgotten how special we are together.”

“I was thinking the exact same thing,” Steve agreed, admiring the way the dampened silk permitted the darkness of her nipple to show. Tracing the little peak made her glance at him. “You’d better take that off before it gets too wet and soapy to wear, in case we can’t do laundry for a few more days.”

“But then I’ll freeze,” she pointed out. “You’re the one in the water, not me.”

“Then come in here, and straddle me,” her fiancé coaxed. “I’ll keep most of you warm.”

Stripping off her remaining clothes, Rachel found herself asking skeptically, “ Most of me warm?”

He grinned, looking at her breasts. “I like certain parts of you best when they’re cold. It’s so much more fun that way.”

Considering how her areolas had puckered, she couldn’t blame him. Chuckling, she finished removing her undergarments and stepped carefully into the tub with him. The heat from the water was heavenly. Kneeling carefully, she scrubbed his abdomen with the sponge, then sat back and worked on his legs, taking her time to refamiliarize herself with every inch of his skin she could reach.

Her fiancé had a decent body; working in the dairy had kept him reasonably fit, and there was just enough hair on his chest and legs to say he was a man, but not enough to suggest he was a beast. Some women liked their men to be downright furry; Rachel just wanted a little bit of curl on her man’s chest, and not much elsewhere. The texture of Steve’s sparsely dusted skin was just the way she liked a man to feel: warm and silky in some spots, warm and crinkly coarse in others. Perfect.

Leaning forward, she made him sit up, then wrapped her arms around him, kissing him somewhat awkwardly while she scrubbed at his back. Getting him to stand, she scrubbed the parts the water had covered, then urged him back down again, rinsing and using the sponge to trickle water over his body. Midway through her task, he stole the brown sponge from her.

Against her protests, he lathered it up again and scrubbed her in turn from neck to toes, shushing her mouth with kisses. Catching on to his silencing scheme, Rachel mumbled a few more protests, making him kiss her again. The water had turned too murky to rinse with, but she had anticipated that. Standing, Rachel urged Steve to his feet, and with his help, lifted the final milk bucket over both their heads. It was still full of hot, clean water. Steve helped her pour it over both of them for a rinse while the tub drained at their feet.

Steve laughed when the last of the water was done dripping out of the can. “We still have soap on our bodies. I think we’ll need to risk a brief shower.”

Rachel nodded. It was now late; if any of the other guests had taken a shower, there might not be much hot water left, but it also shouldn’t be a strain on the generator to siphon some from the tanks. Letting him pull the curtain into place, she turned and worked with the faucet, waiting until warm water spilled forth. The position left her bent over at the waist. She didn’t know why she was surprised when he grasped her hips, but she was. Pleasantly, at least.