CHAPTER 13
As soon as I get back to the apartment, all I want is to soak in a long, hot bath.
“I’ll go get you some tea,” St. Clair says, looking at me with concern. I don’t blame him. My reflection in the mirror is a total mess: bedraggled hair and dark shadows under my eyes.
“Tea sounds good.” I give him a tired smile. He heads downstairs, and I run the hot water into the huge clawfoot tub, emptying in a whole bottle of fancy lavender bubble bath. As the tub fills I strip out of the gown that I loved so much, now grayed with prison dirt and stained with tears and who knows what else. The sweet smelling steam fills the room, and I sink down into the bubbles and let the soapy suds wash away the last twelve hours.
I’m floating and half-dozing when St. Clair returns with a tray. “There’s cake too,” he adds. I laugh, thinking of the croissants I’ve already eaten today.
“Getting arrested is turning out to be hell on my waistline,” I quip, sitting up a little.
St. Clair looks surprised. “I’m surprised you can joke, after what you’ve been through.”
“I’ve been through worse,” I say simply. “A night in a jail cell is nothing compared to those nights I spent at the hospital with my mom.” I shrug. “Besides, I knew you would come get me in the end.”
“I nearly caused a diplomatic incident,” St. Clair admits with a wry grin. “I called everyone I could think of, dragged the ambassador out of bed at three in the morning.”
I smile. “So I’m guessing we won’t be invited to their next party then.”
“I can’t believe you’re so calm.”
“Tired,” I correct him. “But I’m okay. I’m not saying I wasn’t scared, but I knew Lennox was bluffing.”
“I can’t believe he’s punishing you just to get back at me.” St. Clair’s jaw sets in a grim line and he kneels beside the tub to take my hand in his firm, reassuring grip. “The thought of you in there, in jail, without me…” He shakes his head. “There’s no excuse. I never should have let you do anything illegal.”
“Hey,” I interrupt. “I wanted to do this. It was my idea to begin with. Don’t blame yourself. This was my choice. Mine. And I don’t regret it.”
St. Clair looks like he wants to say something, but he stops. “What did he say?” he asks. “In the interrogation?”
I shrug. “Just that they had my fingerprints at the scene, that he wanted to cut a deal with me, to sell you out. He said you were already confessing,” I add with a smile. “That you were implicating me in the next room.”
St. Clair laughs harshly. “I would never sell you out. Never.”
“I know,” I reassure him. “That’s when I knew he had nothing. After that, I was just waiting for you. I half-expected you to come sneaking in, disable all the alarms, and break me out,” I smile.
He softens. “I thought about it. But that would have made you a fugitive, and I couldn’t do that. We’ll find a way to get Lennox off our case, I promise.”
“I know. For now, I’m just happy to be back with my creature comforts again. Like hot water, and you.” I reach out and hook my finger over the top of his collar, pulling him closer.
“I missed you.” St. Clair lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers.
I spread my hand and he kisses my palm. My skin starts to tingle. “Even a single night without you in my bed is too long.”
We lock eyes.
“I missed you too,” I say, pulling his mouth against mine with a soft moan.
Our kiss deepens, and a feeling of safety washes over me. In his arms, nothing bad can touch us. I part my lips and reach up to lace my fingers through his soft hair. He moans and I pull his mouth to mine harder, letting him know that I want him. Our breaths come fast and hot, and my hands reach to tug at his shirt and the waistband of his pants.
St. Clair helps me undress him as he kisses the underside of my wrist. He nips at the sensitive skin there and then moves his mouth up to the inside of my elbow and kisses all the way up to my wet, naked collarbone, biting and sucking just a tiny bit. My body starts to hum and I tip my head back against the tile, closing my eyes until he suddenly stops. When I look at him, he’s stepping back with a slow smile, reaching down to slide off his briefs.
I grin back at him and follow the lines of his muscles with my eyes, from the smooth planes of his chest to his tight abs, and then lower, to his perfect cock, already hard and magnificent. I sit up, bubbles sliding down my breasts as I reach out to stroke him, pulling St. Clair close so I can guide the tip of him into my mouth. I close my lips around his length, sliding my tongue up and down, moving my hands along his shaft. St. Clair groans and I feel heat spread between my legs.
“That’s right, God, yes.” His hands tug my hair, directing me in a slow, deep rhythm. I gorge on him, loving the taste, the scent of him, until finally St. Clair pulls back.
“Not so fast,” he teases, his breath coming ragged. “I plan on taking my time with you.”
My stomach twists with lust.
“Make some room in that tub,” he grins.
He steps over the edge and settles in behind me, water sloshing, so I’m cradled between his muscular thighs. He leans me back against his chest, his hands roaming lazily over my wet, naked body, out of sight under the bubbles. I can feel his hard cock pressing into my back, and I shift experimentally, feeling him hiss with breath.
“Easy there, tiger,” St. Clair murmurs in my ear. His fingers stroke over my belly, down between my thighs, then back up, teasing me. “I want to make sure every inch of you is squeaky clean…”
After everything I’ve been through, this is exactly what I need: to be reassured, touched, cared for. He takes the bottle of shower gel soaps up his palms. Then he begins to slide his hands over me with a new, sure purpose. Soothing. Caressing. The suds slide over my skin like silk, and I sink back, lost in bliss.
“Your body is incredible,” he whispers.
I open my eyes in time to see him slowly stroke my breasts, taking one in each hand. He runs his fingers over my nipples, circling them over and over, making me inhale sharply at the surge of energy pulsing downwards.
I moan, writhing in his arms, but St. Clair moves one arm against my chest, pinning me against his body.
“Look,” he commands me, and I do. I watch his strong, capable hands stroking lower, down between my thighs. The bubbles are dissipating now, and I watch his hands touch me at the same time I feel the pleasure they provide. My pulse pounds in my ears, and I gasp for air.
“Shh,” he soothes. But he doesn’t let up. He slides his thick finger up over my clit, over and around, faster and harder until I’m moaning. Then he curls two fingers, and sinks them low, deep inside me.
“Yes…”
I arch up, coiled tight with want, needing him deeper. Needing more.
St. Clair fucks me with his fingers, slow and deliberate, until my blood is boiling, and I can’t take anymore. I break free from his embrace, and turn, sliding my wet body against his torso until I’m straddling his legs, facing him.
I hold his gaze as I press my pussy against his rock hard cock.
St. Clair’s jaw clenches, he lets out a groan. “We’re done playing,” he growls.
I gasp as he grips my hips and lifts all of me up, sliding my wet clit against the whole length of him slowly, slowly until I feel just the tip of him about to break contact, and then he pulls me down onto him in a rush of slick pressure. Oh, God.
I force myself to relax onto him, taking every inch inside me until I’m filled completely. God, he feels so good, and with me on top, I can feel the thick length of him rubbing my walls, the friction rising as I slowly rock against him, finding my pace, letting out a whimper.
God, yes.