Page 27 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

“Please tell me you aren’t grumbling because your cousin was thoughtful enough to buy provisions.”

“If he were truly thoughtful, they wouldn’t be on the bed.” Bishop glances at me. “Fine, yes, it is very thoughtful. But still, it quite defeats the point of carrying you into the bedroom.”

Balancing me, he clears a spot with one hand and then lays me down onto it. I tug him down with me, pulling him into a kiss—

A rap at the door has him backing off, his growl now unmistakably canine, and I sputter a laugh.

“You did say you wanted the hot water brought right away,” I say as I rise, straightening my bodice.

“Not this ‘right away,’” he says. “Everyone is far too considerate and efficient today.”

I rap his arm. “Answer the door, and be nice about it.”

He strides out, shutting the bedroom door behind him. As he lets a boy in to fill the tub, I start opening packages. While not all of them will be for me, it’s always thrilling to open pretty boxes. And the boxes are all very pretty, with red bows and fancy store names stamped on the sides. One in particular makes me sigh. It’s a women’s toiletry set, with everything from a silver brush to fine soap and a second box within that holds hairpins and several beautiful clips.

At a grunt behind me, I turn to see Bishop standing at the end of the bed, his eyes narrowed.

“My cousin has outdone himself,” he says, that growl still in his throat.

I arch my brows. “Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of Julius.”

“No, I am jealous of anyone who spoils you before I get the chance.” He sits on the edge of the bed and squeezes my knee through my skirts. “I am glad he’s been so thoughtful, even if I do wish I could have been the one covering your bedspread with presents.”

“He was being efficient, gathering what we need while we obtained clothing.” I hand him an opened box. “And it’s not all for me.”

He riffles through the men’s toiletries and nods. “This is acceptable.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s perfect. Admit it. He saw to everything, just as you would have if you had the time. You were both raised to be excellent husbands.”

“Don’t tell Julius that. He likes his women in quantity.”

I sputter a laugh. “Perhaps he’s like his cousin, and simply hasn’t met one to make him give up that bounteous buffet.”

“Bounteous buffets were never my style. Julius likes endless romantic entanglements. He never settles on one woman even in the short term, lest they mistakenly believe he wants more. It’s always struck me as a thoroughly exhausting way to go about it.”

My lips twitch. “You like your transactions transactional.”

He waves a finger. “None of that. At least, not now, while your bath is being filled. You may recall how much I like to bathe you.”

“I do. But in this case, I think we both need the washing.”

“And we shall both have it. Now, let me see how many more trips the boy needs to make and whether I can speed the process.”

“And then, afterward, I can ask you anything I like?”

He smiles over at me. “You may.”

TEN

We have had our bath, which starts with Bishop bathing me. He seems to enjoy that, and I’m certainly not discouraging him from it. I’ve come to adore the sheer decadence of lying in a tub of hot, perfumed water while someone tenderly brushes out your hair and then runs a deliciously rough cloth over your body, invigorating and soothing at once.

As much as I love being bathed, it really is only a preamble to the best part. Bathing me isn’t just about washing me up, of course. It’s about touching and teasing, and while I suspect Bishop enjoys pampering me, he likes toying with me at least as much. When I am in the bath, I am his to do with as he likes … and to refrain from doing as I might like, at least not as quickly as I might want.

In other words, he is in control of my pleasure, which he likes very much. And, as I’ve learned, I like to lie back and enjoy that as much as I like to lie back and enjoy the bathing. We’ve already established the rules of the bathing game, which are that I can’t rush him or guide him in any way. I must put my full trust in him—the trust that he will, eventually, pleasure me again and again, until I’m almost too exhausted to return the favor. Almost.

I do return it, of course. And since he also expects a bath, I return it in the tub, which takes a bit of finagling, but it’s a large tub, and I’m more flexible than I might look. I try to slow the inevitable conclusion, but I’m not that adept at it yet. I may have made the mistake of pausing to mention how much I enjoy sucking him, and that seems to have rushed the conclusion.

I do, however, make a fresh discovery before we return to bed. While he seems to be spent after one climax—which, really, makes me feel very sorry for men—he needs less resting time than I thought. Less resting time than he thought, apparently, as well. It’s a matter of pacing.