The Cadogan Master's apartments consisted of three rooms - a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bath. Four rooms if you counted Ethan's closet. Since the closet was bigger than my dorm room on the second floor, I counted it.

When we returned, we were greeted by soft lighting and the hum of a cello. Candles were lit, two bottles of water and a small box of chocolates were on Ethan's writing desk, courtesy of Margot, and the apartments smelled of gardenias and bergamot.

"I am glad to be home," I said, putting my katana on a table near the door and unzipping my boots.

"Before you leave a trail of clothing across the apartments and fall face-first into bed, you might wish to check the bath," Ethan said, taking off his suit jacket.

I ignored the insult and focused on the intriguing bit. "The bath?"

He gestured mysteriously toward the bathroom, so I made my way, pulling off one boot, then the other, hopping along the way.

The Master's bathroom was as luxe as the rest of the apartment, with a marble floor and vanities that looked more like furniture. A giant soaking tub sat in one corner, and tonight, it bore a surprise.

A bath had been drawn, the water steaming and scented, and full of bubbles. Small candles were lit around the room, bouncing circles of light across the ceiling.

My muscles sagged in relief.

"What's all this?" I asked, at the sound of footsteps behind me.

Ethan pulled the leather jacket from my shoulders. "You had a bit of an evening. I thought you could use a break."

I glanced back at him suspiciously. I didn't mean to question his motives, but in my experience a candlelit bath wasn't Ethan's usual method of coping when I'd been in a dangerous situation. He typically preferred a lecture about my having gotten into danger in the first place. In this case, of course, I'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Merit, I can all but see the gears turning."

"Sorry. This is just . . . unexpected. Very unexpected."

Ethan smiled, lips curving with sultry appeal. "On occasion, the unexpected is precisely what the doctor ordered. Or so the humans say."

"Since you, being immortal, have no need of doctors?"

"Precisely." He'd already kicked off his shoes, and he began rolling up his shirtsleeves.

"Are you joining me?" I wondered aloud.

"Patience, Sentinel. First, the bath. Then, the after."

I couldn't help but wonder about the "after."

Ethan stepped forward, and without preface, gripped my sweater by its hem.

"Arms up," he said, and when I obliged, he pulled the sweater over my head. He tossed it away, then centered his gaze on the silk and satin that covered my br**sts, his lips widening in masculine appreciation.

"Patience, Sullivan," I said with a smile, and he growled out his objection. Ethan reached out and put his hands on my waist, sending goose bumps up my arms and a warm tendril of heat through my abdomen.

He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, smelling of soap and spicy cologne, and my limbs tensed and relaxed at the same time. Ethan knotted his fingers in my hair, his tongue tangling with mine, turning up the intensity of the kiss until I was utterly relaxed - and taut like a bowstring. He put me there, at the knife's edge of tension, which was undoubtedly exactly his plan.

Ethan Sullivan rarely did anything without a plan.

He cupped my silk-covered breast in one hand, and my lips parted. His deft fingers unsnapped the buttons on my jeans, and my core went liquid from wanting.

How was it possible, I wondered, to want someone so much? To feel suddenly empty . . . and yet full of longing?

Without words, he pushed the jeans from my hips, and they pooled in a heap on the floor. His eyes burning like green fire, Ethan wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against the length of his body. He was still clothed, but that was no obstacle to his impressive arousal, which had vaulted between us.

As he kissed me again, I took advantage, arousing him through the slick fabric of his trousers until he pulled away, silver eyed and fanged. His hair had loosened, spilling spun gold around his face. The sight of him - aroused and predatory, all pretensions gone - was nearly too much to bear.

Ethan wet his lips. "I promised a bath."

"There's room for two."

He smiled wickedly. "Let's test that theory, Sentinel." He didn't bother with buttons, but pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his flat stomach and rigid abdominals, a chest that begged for touch, for fingertips drifting across curves and planes of skin.

His belt hit the floor, followed by his trousers. And then, wearing silk and cotton, we stood together in the steam, staring at each other, the heavy weight of anticipation between us.

"You first," he said, his feet planted, crossing his arms like a pirate on the swaying deck of a ship of the line.

I could just see the edge of the tattoo that marked the back of Ethan's calf. It was black script, words in a language I didn't recognize, and he'd been demurring an explanation for some time. It seemed unlikely he'd explain it now, and I wasn't about to waste time with unnecessary words or arguments I couldn't win.

I opted instead for a winning move. Playing coy, I turned my back to him, glancing over my shoulder as I freed my br**sts.

"Playing the wicked Sentinel this evening, are we?"

"I'm always wicked. But most of the time, I hide it very, very well."

If vampirism had taught me nothing else, it was how to bluff when the time was right.

I removed the rest of the lingerie, giving him a good long look at my body before I dipped a toe into the bath water.

The heat was just shy of excessive, and utterly delicious. I closed my eyes for just a second as the heat sent a delicious shudder through my limbs. Before I opened them again, Ethan was behind me, utterly naked and aroused, his body pressed against mine.

He pressed his lips to my neck, to the spot that I'd sworn was more sensitive than any other on my body, as if vampires had been blessed by an additional erogenous zone, and cupped my br**sts in his hands.

His fingers, long and nimble, toyed and teased until I was nearly breathless. But then he was gone, leaving my body cold again. In shock, I glanced behind me, and found his gaze, teasing and tempting.

"Now who's wicked?" he asked.

I humphed and sunk into the bath, the vessel large and deep enough that I could have almost swum to the other side. I found a perch in the corner and crooked a finger at him.

Ethan, smiling his pirate's smile, stepped in, steam rising around his naked body as if the water itself were aflame. Before a second had passed, he disappeared beneath the water, then rose again like an ancient god, skin damp and muscles taut.

Tags: Chloe Neill Chicagoland Vampires Vampires
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