I thought sinking into the tub, hiding myself underneath this sea of bubbles would make me feel more secure. Rhys’s words send the thrill of danger through me and I shiver even though the water is heated almost to the point of scalding.

Rhys removes his jacket, draping it over the chair by the desk and begins rolling up the sleeves of his shirt underneath. He settles on the edge of the tub near the faucet and grabs one of the washcloths rolled up by the side.

“Come over this way. I want you facing New York,” he says as he dips the cloth into the water to wet it.

I slip along the side, wading through the warm water and bubbles until I’m next to him.

“Stand up,” he commands, pouring some of the bath gel into the terrycloth in his hands.

I hesitate, which is silly at this point. Anyone who wanted to see anything, had more than enough opportunity when he made me stand naked in front of the window as the tub filled up.

“Do it,” he orders.

There’s something more dominant in his voice tonight. It should scare me, but it only makes me more pliant. I want to be led, ordered, taught. Ever since we set foot in the lobby of this hotel, I’ve felt like a lamb, more than willing to be shepherded by Rhys. The biblical implications aren’t lost on me, and I know no amount of bubbles or bath gel or scalding water can cleanse me free of the filthy, shameful lust that fills every pore of my being at that blasphemous thought.

Thou art my shepherd; I shall not want.

I stand up. The water and bubbles cascade down my body, leaving shivers in their wake. The cool air of the room is a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water lapping around my knees and my skin instantly prickles with goosebumps. In the window, I can see my reflection, slick and shiny, stray bubbles clinging to various parts of my body, teasing the eye like part of some burlesque act.

In my periphery, Rhys is squeezing the washcloth until bubbles begin to seep between his fingers. Even though I know what’s coming, I still hiss in shock when the rough cloth first touches my skin.

“Relax,” he soothes, but the sound of his voice only sends violent spasms through my body. The feel of the cloth massaging my upper back does nothing to curtail it.

“Rhys,” I sigh, closing my eyes as his strong hand works in circles, up over my shoulders and down to my right breast. He lingers there, rounding the flesh with the cloth. The rough texture grazes across my hardened nipple like tiny teeth, causing me to inhale sharply with pain and pleasure. When my legs begin to weaken, his other hand comes up to my lower back to steady me.

It should be relaxing. His hand is firm, but the cloth is softened with soapy bubbles, both of them working together to knead my muscles. But New York stares back at me from the other side of that window. My reflection also confronts me, depicting just how vulnerable and exposed I am, naked and wet while Rhys has his way with me.

Then he works his way lower. I feel his name in my throat, waiting to be screamed, but it’s stuck there when the first soapy touch reaches the triangle of hair, parting it to wander further south. All I can do is gurgle some incoherent cry as Rhys once again tortures that intimate part of me, this time with eight million potential spectators. That alone is enough to send my head back, finally releasing the moan.

“Rhys…”

“That’s right, just let go,” he urges, the washcloth in his hand massaging every part from back to front. I feel the soapy bubbles invade every crease and fold, randomly popping in ticklish little surprises. Even my own private exploits in the shower can’t match the intensity of what I’m experiencing right now.

When I’m sure I’m going to collapse, even with Rhys’s firm hand holding me up from behind, he finally gives me a reprieve, removing his hand. I know he’s not done with me, not by a long shot. His next words confirm it.

“Sit on the edge of the tub, facing the window, legs spread open.”

I’m too weak to protest, only grateful for the chance to ease the burden on my body which feels as limp as a rag doll at this point. I sit on the edge, both hands on my knees, prying them apart. I thought by now the area between them would be numb from the abuse it’s suffered so far, but the cold lick of air that hits it proves otherwise.

I have no idea what’s coming, but I know better than to ask. Rhys has promised to spare only one sacred cow for tonight. All others are ripe for the sacrifice.

In silence, he stands up and begins slowly unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes hold mine captive, making sure that I don’t lower them in shame or embarrassment. Watching him undress is almost as imposing as taking my own clothes off in front of these windows. When he’s down to nothing but his pants, slowly unzipping his fly to reveal what lies below the glaringly evident bulge, I want to snap my legs closed, but his intense gaze forces them to remain firmly in place.

I’ve seen him naked, but I’ve never seen him hard. In fact, I’ve never seen anyone hard, at least not in person. The idea that I’m the one responsible for this physical reaction in him sends a sharp feeling of pleasure through my veins. That pleasure begins to simmer, heating my entire body when I think of all the things he could do with that massive length that’s now fully erect before me.

I wonder what the New Yorkers outside that window make of this picture. Rhys standing naked with a penis that definitely puts to shame any that I’ve seen in those filthy films I devoured when I first had uncensored access to the internet. I recall all the things those particular cocks did to various holes and my body goes rigid with fear.

Rhys steps into the tub and that fear turns to panic. He wades through the bubbles like a shark approaching a hapless sunbather. The theme song to Jaws enters my head as his predatory eyes give me fair warning that I’m about to become his prey.

I finally understand why rabbits and deer freeze up when a hunter has them in his sights. Even though every inch of me is available to Rhys’s hungry eyes, I’m incapable of covering myself or running away. Under that dark blue gaze, I’d let him rip me to pieces.

Instead, his mouth captures my inner thigh with soft, ticklish kisses. His gaze doesn’t once break with mine and I’m forced to watch as he works his way further and further up. I know what’s coming. It fascinated and repulsed me when I saw it on the computer screen. Now, I’m practically exploding with desire as I anticipate it actually happening to me.

The first touch feels implausibly like a combination of heaven and hell. I can practically hear both the harps and the crackling flames coming together in my head like some clashing riot that unleashes all the power in the universe. My body convulses under Rhys’s wandering mouth. His tongue explores places in a way that make my own fingers seem clumsy by comparison. The sensation is like comparing an elephant to a hummingbird.

“Rhys,” I moan, my ass threatening to slide right off the edge of the tub. He brings his arms up around my thighs, holding them in place and prying them open even wider for his pleasure.

When his mouth circles the small nub in front, I jerk so hard I’m surprised my spine doesn’t break. Dear God, who knew such pleasure could exist? His tongue flicks it and now the pleasure is more akin to pain. I read somewhere that the tongue has more nerve endings than any part of the body. I can only imagine what Rhys’s tongue is experiencing, since my own tiny bundle of nerves is nearly exploding between my legs.

“I can’t!” I cry for some incoherent reason. Can’t what? Can’t take any more? Can’t bear him stopping?

Please stop, Rhys

Please go on forever, Rhys.

I feel like I’m experiencing all one million ways he threatened to pleasure me with at once. Orgasm after orgasm wracks my body, until I really do feel like I’m incapable of sitting on the edge anymore.

Rhys must sense it in the weakened muscles of my thighs. He pulls away and grins up at me from between my legs.

“How’s that for pleasure?” he taunts.

“You bastard,” I manage to whisper between breaths.

He just laughs as I ooze into the water, letting the warmth ease my sore flesh.

“Here,” Rhys says gently, as he takes hold of me and slides around so he’s behind me. I fall back into him, enjoying the solid feel of his hard body against my weak limbs and torso.

“Oh, Prynne,” he murmurs, as we both stare out at New York beyond the windows. “I think you and I are going to be good together.”

“We should probably think about getting out.”

We’re still in the tub, me lying back in between Rhys’s legs. I wriggle into his chest, enjoying the feel of him—all of him, against my backside.

“I don’t want to move from this position,” I complain.

“We can have the same position in bed.”

“Yes, but first we have to be wet and cold.”

“I can dry you off,” he says in a way that makes me smile with wicked delight. “Then we can warm each other up under the covers.”

It sounds like heaven, especially since most of the bubbles in the water have disappeared by now and the water has cooled to only slightly above room temperature.

“Ugh, okay,” I say, pulling myself away from him. I rise up, now perfectly comfortable being naked in front of both Rhys and the windows. I sense his eyes on me and it tickles my insides. I feel like Venus in that painting of her standing in an open clamshell. I wonder what it would feel like to be standing naked long enough for a painting to be made of me.

Before I can grab a towel, Rhys makes good on his suggestion and grabs one from the little table nearby. I step out of the tub and stand there, dripping wet as he joins me. I openly admire what lies between his legs, impressive even in its flaccid state. He grins at me as he brings the towel around my shoulders.

“Like what you see?” he teases as he vigorously rubs my skin with the soft towel.

“Maybe,” I tease right back, enjoying this moment. I feel like a fluffy, little bunny being doted on by her new owner.

“I remember a time when you were scared to even look at it.”

“I wasn’t scared,” I protest. “I was just…I’d never. Well, you know.”

“Never?”

“I went to Bluett, remember? And here in New York, it was just—let’s just say that online dating is horrible.”

Rhys laughs and uses the towel to pull me towards him until my naked body is flush against his. His hardness invades my softness and I wrap my arms around him wanting more. Underneath the citrus scent of the hotel bath products, I inhale that musky, masculine scent seeping from his pores and I bury my face into his firm chest to drown in it. The moment doesn’t just feel right...it feels perfect.

I lift my head and look up at him. “We could tonight. If you want to.”

He drops one side of the towel to bring his hand up to my chin, lifting it higher so I have a better view of his face. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?” I ask, pulling away.

He pulls me right back in. “I want you to think on it. It shouldn’t be done spur of the moment.”

“I don’t have to think on it.”

He stares down at me, his eyes unreadable. There are a thousand thoughts going on behind them, but instead of revealing them, he sighs. “Okay then, it’s something I need to think on.”

Before I can protest again, he pulls away and takes me by the hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

He pulls back the covers and allows me to crawl in first. While I get settled against the pillows, he uses the towel to dry off. Watching him is stimulating, but the intense desire I felt toward going further has faded. Now, I feel more of a warm longing, just wanting to curl up next to him and fall asleep. When he walks over to turn out the light, my body begins to ease into slumber and I realize how tired I actually am.

I watch his shadow slink back to the bed and feel the mattress shift as his large weight settles in next to me. We find each other in the dark under the covers and maneuver until we find a place where we fit together perfectly.

Five minutes later, I’m asleep.