The Magic of I Do (Faerie 2)

He froze. “Why?”

“The doctor came today.”

He was across the room in a thrice, and he settled down next to her. “What did he say?”

“He said everything is fine with the baby, Finn. Nothing to worry about anymore.”

Finn softened almost perceptibly, and then he lowered himself to sit beside her on the floor by the tub.

“Where have you been?”

“Putting out fires,” he said with a sigh.

“Fires?” She made a move to get out of the bath.

“Not real ones. The kind that Mayden likes to create. He’s not happy about his debts being called in. And he’s making a bit of noise in town.”

“Is it bad?”

“I wouldn’t call it bad. I’d call it a nuisance.”

His finger trailed up her naked arm as he leaned toward her and placed his forehead against her nose. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you this week.”

“You were angry at me. I understand.”

“Do you?” He tilted his head at her, his blue eyes dark in stillness of the room.

“Yes,” she replied. “I believe I do.”

“I tried to make it up to you when I came home, but you were asleep.”

She hadn’t been asleep. She’d been angry. “Yes.” A grin tugged at her lips, even though she really wanted to pout. “What were you going to do to make it up to me?”

He kissed her lips gently, and his hand slid into the water to skim across her breast. Heat pooled at the apex of her thighs. “So beautiful,” he breathed. “Are you almost finished with that bath?” he asked.

“I just got in, actually.” She stretched luxuriously, enjoying the way his eyes stayed focused on her breasts as they rose and fell in the water.

“How long will you be?” he asked, his voice raspy all of a sudden.

“All night,” she said quietly.

“Do you need some help?”

“With my bath? No, thank you.”

“Are you certain? I could wash your back.” He picked up a sponge and some soap, and dipped them in the water. “Sit forward. I’ll wash your back.” He picked up her hair, gathered it and rolled it, and secured it haphazardly with a pin at the top of her head. “Very pretty,” he said with a laugh.

“I probably look like a deranged pixie,” she said, crossing her eyes in an attempt to make him laugh.

“You look like a debauched pixie right now.”

“Debauched? Me? I think not.”

“If you’re not already, you’re about to be,” he murmured as he began to soap her back. His hand was unhurried, and his face was right beside hers as his hands dipped and retreated. He soaped slowly across her shoulders and down the middle of her back, feeling each lump of her spine and swirling around the dip just above her bottom.

Finn raised one of her arms above her head and soaped down the length of it, sliding across her armpit and down into the water to rinse the sponge. He did the same with her other arm.

Claire’s breasts were aching, begging to be touched. She hitched herself higher up in the tub and arched her back. But he ignored her, and soaped down her breastbone and to her stomach, where he replaced the sponge with his s