Page 38 of You Only Love Twice
A lot of things could be forgiven for hot water and soap.
"Don't try anything. I'm not going anywhere," he said, as she rubbed at her wrists. "Don't waste your time. You have twenty minutes."
Then he turned back to the door and gave her his back, as if to prove he had no damned intentions of watching at all.
Gemma cleared her throat. "There is one slight problem."
Long strands of brown hair brushed his collar as he turned his face in profile. Though he clearly dyed it, there was a faint ashen color leaching through, as if the silver blond sought to reassert itself. "Miss Townsend," he warned.
"I have a friend to assist me at the safe house." Sweeping her tangled black hair over her shoulder, she turned around, presenting the problem to him. "Consider yourself lucky you are not a woman and can dress yourself. I cannot unlace my corset without assistance."
"I swear to God, Gemma." His voice came out hard, and a little part of thrilled at the sound of her name on his lips.
"It's not a trick," she shot over her shoulder. "Have you ever tried to wear one of these infernal contraptions? And it isn't as if you had any compunction about stripping me out of my dress the other night. Unless, of course, now you suddenly do, hmm?"
"Fine." Drawing his knife, he jerked her around again.
Obsidian sliced the ribbons apart along her spine, the corset gaping with an abrupt jerk.
Gemma caught it to her breasts, her pulse suddenly pounding. "That corset was pink velvet with seed pearls hand-stitched to it! It came from Emerson's!"
"It was ruined anyway."
She stared down in dismay. "It cost me an entire week's worth of wages!"
"Then perhaps the Duke of Malloryn should be paying you more. It's just an article of clothing. You can replace it."
He didn't understand. She'd spent her entire childhood dressed in a nondescript training outfit every other Falcon trainee wore. They'd called her cadet, and shaved her head for the first twelve years—all the better to prevent another student from gaining a crucial hold during their bouts. When she'd won her way free of the Falcons, Gemma had found herself fighting to find her identity.Shewas the one who chose her gowns now, silks and velvets and frivolous undergarments that clung like a second skin. Decadent colors she'd never been allowed to wear; gorgeous boots she'd spent a small fortune upon. As a spy, there was little she could own that held any value, and no point in collecting items of a personal nature just in case she had to flee if her cover was broken and leave them behind. Her wardrobe was the one aspect of her life she could control, that could remind her of who she was now.
It was as much a part of the construction of Gemma Townsend as her devious little mind. It made her feel real.
But how could she even explain such a thing to him?
"Warn me next time," she told him, a little breathlessly. He had not so much as marked her skin. "I almost reacted to the knife."
Flipping the blade into his fingers, Obsidian gave her a slow, heated look as he sheathed it at his hip. "You'll never get it off me, so don't give me that look."
Gemma shot him a devastating smile as she turned to face him. "I wouldn't dream of it."
She let the corset go and it fluttered to the ground, taking his gaze with it. Knowing when she didn't need to speak to make her point, she turned and slinked her way toward the steaming bath, her fingers tucking under the hem of her shift.
A pause.
A glance over her shoulder.
Obsidian's eyes met hers, flashing black with the hunger, before he turned and very pointedly gave her his back. "Be swift."
Like hell. She'd earned her bath.
Stripping the shift up her body, Gemma made good use of the movements, knowing he'd hear every last rustle of fabric. The imagination was a powerful weapon. Her drawers hit the floor. Finally she was bare, except for her stockings, and as she peeled the last one down her leg, she balled it up and threw it at his back.
Obsidian reacted as if he'd been shot, but Gemma had turned away and stepped into the bath by then, not caring whether he watched or not.
Hot. Water.
Soap.
Bubbles.
