Then told her, “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the master suite, presumably heading into the bathroom. She tidied up and tossed the tissues.
The volcanically hot release she’d experienced did not keep L.L. from brimming with excitement. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get enough of Tague.
Needing a little something to hopefully calm her too-radiant enthusiasm for what else he might have in store for her, she crossed to the wet bar and poured a snifter of brandy. She inhaled the sensual, oaky scent before she sipped.
Her brain was a jumbled mess, a passion-induced haze clouding it. Her body was hardly her own. It tingled and trembled like never before. Her nipples were still puckered tight, as though Tague’s tongue was fluttering over them. Suckling them.
And the sparks between her legs and deep in her core... Christ, shouldn’t some of that have abated? But no. She was wholly in-tuned to the way he affected her, the way he quickened her arousal and sent it to atmospheric heights.
When he returned, strutting confidently, so magnificently naked, she understood why a woman could bow down to such a divinely created being—even when said woman had sworn she’d never lose herself in a man, because work was her singular focus.
Yet… Tague was a god.
She offered him the snifter as he approached. He took a long sip, then set the glass aside.
Without saying a word, he swept her into her arms and carried her into the bathroom. As he stepped across the threshold, L.L. gaped.
The enormous room was filled with luscious bouquets of velvety red and white roses and verdant leaves in the most gorgeous, crystal-cut vases that caught the dim lighting of the chandeliers and cast dancing prisms throughout the creamy marbled space. Dozens of candles in similarly designed holders were lit. The huge tub was filling with water, rose petals floating on top of the bubbles. There were also petals artistically arranged along the double vanity and scattered on the floor, on the end tables, the armless chairs.
L.L. took it all in, emotion swelling in her throat.
“You did this for me?” she barely managed to ask as tears prickled the backs of her eyes.
“I requested it,” he clarified. “Hotel staff took care of everything.”
“But…you planned this. For me. For us.”
“Yes.”
She’d not ventured into this room when she’d done her quick tour of the suite. All of this was a surprise to her.
“Is there a pro
blem?” he quietly asked.
“No.” She tried to swallow down the lump of emotion. “It’s just that… It’s so beautiful.”
Her gaze flitted from one end of the room to the other. The sensual scent of jasmine and the sultry classical jazz music added to the arousing ambience. “And incredibly romantic.” Her eyes fell on him. “You’re romantic?”
Tague shrugged. “I don’t know, Loralai. I just want to take your breath away.”
31
He set her on the ledge of the tub. He knelt alongside her and stared up at her, something indiscernible and hauntingly evocative glowing in his dark eyes.
She said, “You do, Tague. So easily.”
“Loralai.” He gently grasped her hands. “I didn’t like subjecting you to my mother this evening. She wasn’t nice to you and there’s no real calling her out on it, aside from just continuing to be whom you are and keeping your head held high. Which you did. Fantastically. The converse side is that I wanted you at that dinner, regardless of how she’d behave. It wasn’t fair to you, and yet…” He gave her a serious, earnest look. “I wanted you there. I want you here. I just…want you.” He kissed her forehead, then added, “And I want you to know it.”
“Tague.” Fat drops welled in her eyes, cresting the rims and spilling down her cheeks. He was quick to whisk them away.
“Don’t cry. Please. I don’t want you upset. I want you happy.”
“I am happy,” she insisted. And sniffled.
“We’re both coming from different and yet such similar places,” he said. “We’re our own people. We’re charting our own paths. But we’ve both been hurt. Worse than hurt.” His gaze held hers. “Worse than hurt, right?”
She nodded.