Page 52 of Branded

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

I drop my lids and sink down into the water until it touches my chin. I let the warm water loosen my muscles and soothe the ache in my feet.

I even think I doze off for a moment before the sensation of a washcloth sliding over my arm pulls me out of my trance and I open my eyes.

“Shh. It’s just me,” Isaac says, showing me the washcloth in his hands. “Eyes closed,” he commands, and I comply instantly.

My tongue darts out and slides over my dry lips when the washcloth connects with my chest, slowly moving from one side to the other. I can feel his powerful fingers behind the material, and that makes it even more heady and hot.

Down to my stomach and around my belly button he moves the washcloth, causing my very ticklish belly to pull in and I giggle.

“That tickles,” I whisper, eyes still closed, and I hear him laugh softly in response.

But he doesn’t stop. He continues down to my hips and across my thighs, avoiding the space between them that is aching, craving some kind of attention.

This continues for what feels like an eternity. I think he has touched every part of my body, except the ones that have since developed their own heartbeats. I’ve started moving my hips without even realizing, trying to chase any kind of sensation. I think that’s when he takes pity on my and the rough sensation of the cloth slides directly over my left nipple.

“Oh God,” I moan quietly, and he does it again with the right nipple. “Mmm.”

I push my head back into the porcelain tub and arch my chest out. My nipples must barely peek out of the water because the cool air makes them tingle and harden even further.

I curl my hands into fists when I feel him drag the cloth over my thigh and to my pussy. He barely slides it against my flesh and I already feel like I’m on fire.

“More,” I mewl. “Please.”

And more he gives me. With the washcloth draped over my pussy, I can feel his fingers on either side of my clit, pinching slightly then rubbing in a circle and applying gentle pressure. My chest begins to rapidly rise and fall, and I swear the people next door can hear my heart currently pounding in my ears.

“Tell me how it feels,” he utters softly.

“It feels fucking incredible. Don’t stop.”

“Not until you come.”

“Oh my God.” His words are nearly enough to send me there.

It doesn’t take much more. I arch my hips and roll them once, twice, against his hand and I shatter into oblivion. I can feel it from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair.

“Ahhhh, Isaac,” I moan under my breath, trying not to be too loud, clamping my thighs closed around his forearm and digging my nails into his wrist.

When the convulsing subsides, I blink my eyes open and find him staring down at me.

“Hi,” I say simply.

“Hi,” he replies before leaning down and kissing my lips softly, then pushing my wet hair from my sweaty forehead.

“My mouth is so dry,” I giggle. “I’m sorry. I think it was all the heavy breathing.”

“I’ll go down to the front desk and get us a couple of waters.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Finish your bath. I’ll be right back.”

He kisses my forehead then stands, giving me a full view of exactly what touching me did to him. I can see his cock pressed hard against his thigh in his slacks.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he jokes, adjusting himself a bit before heading back out into the main room and out the door.

I take the moment of privacy to relish in what just happened, and I cover my face and laugh. It’s the happiest, most genuine laugh I’ve had in a long time. And in the spirit of Julia Roberts inPretty Woman, I say, to no one in particular, “Holy shit” and slide down under the bubbles and water.

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