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the way his body shimmered and stuttered as he fought the building passion. Her fingers teased and stroked, but her mouth tasted and tormented, taking him close to the edge, then back again, and silently daring him to demand more.
    And his body did demand—bucking and tightening and thrumming with a heat that she could feel and touch and smell. But his lips never begged. Never gave a hint of the sweet agony he was suffering. And, ultimately, that she was suffering, too.
    “Damn you,” she said, as she eased herself up and over him. And then, when she knew by the tiny smile that played on his lips that he understood the reason for the curse, she impaled herself on him.
    Oh, sweet fires of Hades .
    Had she ever experienced such delight? They moved together, and Lucia was certain that, somehow, she was going to lose herself. That she was going to come free of this body that she’d known for so many years and simply end up a bit of vapor in the sky, burned up by the heat that they were generating together.
    A dangerous heat, and one she couldn’t let stop. It built and built as they moved together, bodies damp from the sweat of exertion, limbs gliding and twining. Now, she thought. Now, now, now!
    She exploded in his arms, the tremors continuing as he milked her orgasm, pulling her further than she’d gone—and then bringing her back, gently, to rest in his arms as they watched the moonlight streak in through the window that overlooked the sea.
    “I—” She started to speak, but he hushed her with a gentle finger to her lips, and she closed her mouth gratefully. Minutes had passed, but she was still sated, languid. And the thought of not moving—of not speaking—of simply remaining in his arms held such sweet delight.
    That, however, wasn’t his plan. A fact that became apparent as he slid off the bed, taking the covers they’d loosened in their erotic fever with him. She started to protest—she didn’t want him to leave—when the point became moot. He gathered her close, then carried her bride-like across the room and into the bathroom. A bath had already been drawn, and now he gently settled her into the bubble bath, the hot water still flowing so that the water was kept at a perfect temperature.
    Rose petals decorated the floor, leading up to the oversized, sunken tub. And the entire thing was surrounded by candles, each already lit.
    How had she not noticed this before?
    That, of course, was easy. She’d let down her guard. She’d entered the suite with him, and she’d never once examined it, a behavior totally contrary to her well-honed survival skills. Even an innocent liaison can turn dangerous, especially in her profession. And yet she’d never even hesitated in this man’s arms.
    The thought sent a shiver running through her, but she wasn’t sure it was fear. It was . . . she didn’t know. And at the moment, she couldn’t quite think, because suddenly he was in the tub as well. He settled himself behind her, then leaned her against him, her back against his chest.
    “I’m glad you lost the wager,” he said.
    “Did I lose? It really doesn’t feel that way.”
    He licked the back of her ear. “Good.”
    “Are we—”
    “Shhh. We’re bathing. Let me bathe you.”
    And because she’d never in her life had anyone ask to bathe her, Lucia nodded, then closed her eyes and lost herself to the sweet sensation of the soapy sponge against her bare back.
    The attention was undeniably erotic, yet at the same time it was somehow sweet. And it was that sweetness that piqued her senses.
    She’d always liked sex fast and hard—and this man had more than delivered. No emotional entanglements for a girl like her. But lately, soft thoughts had been entering her head. Her hesitation to undertake her past jobs. The tug at her heart when the baron had shown her his family pictures. And now this sense of sweetness as a man she barely knew rubbed her back with gentle touches. And during their lovemaking