Loving Byrne by Donna Dalton Read Free Book Online

darted to the door. “What if someone comes in?”
    She dunked the cloth in the warm bath water and began working up suds with the soap. “No one will come in. I locked the door.”
    “Victoria…”
    “Hush, now.” She gave his shoulder a gentle shove. “Lean forward so I can scrub your back.”
    He remained still, a ship adrift in a steamy fog. Finally, he heaved a resigned sigh and leaned forward, tucking his chest against his knees. Victoria smiled. His surrender would be sweet. She’d see to it. She wouldn’t let him deny himself pleasure because of some misbegotten notion that he was to blame for putting their future in jeopardy. He deserved all the enjoyment she could give him. And that would be plenty.
    She skimmed the cloth across his shoulder blades and down his backbone, lathering his sinewy muscles with soap. One finger slipped free and grazed his skin. So smooth and solid. And warm. Hot actually. A spring of desire burbled inside her. Oh to have that heated flesh pressed against hers.
    Stephen groaned, and she stilled her scrubbing. “Do you want me to stop, love?”
    He gave a slight shake of his head. Good. Stopping was the last thing she wanted.
    She continued her lathing, moving south to where the water lapped at his lower back. Gaslight splashed his skin with golden strokes. Except for a small scar on his lower left side, he was a perfect specimen of maleness.
    She traced the pale blemish with a fingertip. “Where did you get this?”
    He tensed but didn’t move away from her touch. “At West Point. During combat training. I didn’t avoid a bayonet thrust quite as efficiently as I should have.”
    “Were you distracted?”
    “Not nearly as much as I am now.”
    She widened her smile. Her strategy was working. As she leaned closer, her dressing robe buckled, the folds gaping open. Exposed to the air, her breasts went firm, the nipples thrusting outward as if seeking physical contact. She squeezed the cloth, dribbling water over glistening skin and rinsing away the soap. Soon, very soon, she’d feel the dribble of Stephen’s hands on her .
    She cupped his shoulder and gave a gentle tug. “Now for your front.”
    He reclined back, head resting against the tub rim. His dark eyes scoured her, a promise that her challenge to his decree of abstinence would not go unmet. She lifted her chin a notch. She did love a challenge.
    Heated blood sang in her veins as she plied cloth to his broad chest, soaping his shoulders, breastbone, and ribs. Taut nipples poked through the bubbly lather. He appeared to be just as affected as she by the pleasant sensations.
    She dipped her hand lower, following the dark path of hair leading from his navel to the water’s edge. Just below the surface bobbed a fleshy thickness. The breath caught in her throat. It was her first glimpse of a man’s most intimate part. A frisson of excitement and apprehension ploughed through her. Annabelle had warned that her first joining would be painful. But the pleasure to follow would be worth the fleeting pain.
    She drew in a breath and then another, feeding her starving lungs. She itched to touch him, to hold him, to feel the swell of his building desire. She inched her hand lower and lower, until—
    Stephen snagged her fingers in a tight grip. “God, Victoria. You play with fire.”
    A fire banked with red-hot coals. She glanced at him through lowered lids, taunting him. “But I like playing with fire.”
    A moan rumbled in the back of his throat. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able stop, even if I wanted to.”
    “Why would you want to stop?”
    He relaxed his grip and brushed a finger over the top of her exposed breast. “You could tempt a saint to sin, Victoria Manning.”
    “Ah, well then, Saint Stephen.” She dropped the cloth into the water with a resounding plop. “Sin with me.”
    “Willful wench.” He slipped the dressing robe off one shoulder and caressed her bared skin. “Take off that robe and join