On My Knees (Stark International Trilogy 2)

I expect it wild. Wicked. I imagine that he will spread me on the table and fuck me hard in a frenzied rush to drive out his own demons by banishing mine.

By claiming me. By controlling me.

I do not expect the sweetness of his kiss. The butterfly-soft touch of his lips against my eyes, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. “You,” he says, and the word is both gentle and firm. “All I need is to touch you. All I need is to make you feel. To take you softly and gently. And to make you forget.”

“Jackson, I—” But I can’t get any more out. My throat is too thick, and his name cannot slide past the emotion that fills me.

He carries me down the stairs, pausing before he does to open a small control panel on the side of the stairs and press a button. I look at him with curiosity, but his mouth just curves up in an enigmatic smile. I know better than to ask—he’ll tell me when he’s ready. And I hold my tongue as we continue down toward his bedroom.

It’s a small, narrow hallway with Jackson’s bedroom on one side and a guest room on the other. At the end of the hall is the bathroom—a simple toilet and shower. At the other end of the hall, just by where we are now standing at the foot of the stairs, is a storage closet. Or, at least, I had always assumed that it was a storage closet. Now, Jackson turns in that direction.

“Where are we—?”

But I stop talking the second he opens the door. It’s another bathroom, only this one is dominated by a luxuriously deep tub and beautiful, gleaming fixtures.

The water is already running in the tub and the lights are dim. Soft music plays through speakers—a low, slow saxophone piece that I’m not familiar with, but that is sweetly seductive.

“Oh my god,” I say. “How did I not know this was here?”

“I’ve been having it remodeled. It’s still not quite ready,” he adds, pointing to some unpainted trim and some exposed wiring for light fixtures. “It’s been a work-in-progress, and once we got back together I wanted to wait until it was ready to show you. But I think it’s ready enough.”

“It’s fabulous,” I say, as he carries me to the tub and sets me on the side. It’s pushed up beside a wall of glass bricks against a blue background, and though I know that this is not an actual window to the sea, the color is such that it suggests the ocean beyond. The tub itself is surrounded by dark wood that forms a three-sided box, with steps leading up to the top where I now sit. Though the front has room only to sit on the ledge, both sides are as wide as a couch, providing a flat sitting area outside the tub.

“Teak?” I ask, running my finger along the polished wood.

Jackson nods as he begins to undress me, very slowly and very tenderly. He unfastens each button, then eases the blouse off my shoulders. Then he traces the swell of my breast against the line of my bra cup. I arch back, my body going limp from the pleasure of such sensual caresses. Gently, he reaches behind me and unclasps the bra. Then folds it and the shirt neatly on a nearby table.

Now I am wearing only my skirt, underwear, and shoes. He moves down a step so that I am still seated on the edge of the tub, naked from the waist up, but he is below me on the second step. My body tingles in a state of sensual overload as the cool air from the room brushes against my bare left breast even while the heat rising from the bathwater teases my right.

From below, Jackson caresses my calf, then eases my shoes off. He strokes a gentle finger under my foot, so light that it is almost a tickle, but instead sends sensual threads darting up my inner thigh to settle at my sex, making me tremble with anticipation and delight.

He guides my feet to the step upon which he sits and tells me to stand, taking my hands to steady me. I do, and he releases his grip long enough to reach behind me and unzip my skirt. He tugs it down over my hips, taking my panties with it, so that I am now standing naked in front of him.

His eyes drift slowly over me, and I force myself not to cross my arms over myself, but to simply let him look—and to enjoy the heat that I see on his face, and the knowledge that it is directed at me.

“In,” he says, nodding at the tub.

I step in slowly. The gently bubbling water is hot, but not scalding, and it’s scented with lavender. I breathe deep and let the water take me. When I’m submerged to my neck, I look up at Jackson. “Coming in?”

I expect him to say yes, of course, and am surprised when he shakes his head.

“But—”

“Shhh. Close your eyes.”

I consider protesting, but I do as he says. I hear him moving behind me, then feel his hands upon my body, slick with some sort of oil. He rubs my shoulders and arms, his touch firm but gentle. He slides his hands down over my shoulders, then massage my breasts, and as he does, arousal swirls through me.