Page 64 of Homeward for a Spell

Almost as if agreeing with Sage, the magic lights another candle on a table near the edge of the tub, its glow revealing a bar of soap and washcloth she could swear weren’t there before. Who is Araphi to argue with the magic or Sage? Especially when she’s shivering and the thought of wrapping her body around Sage’s makes her mouth water with desire.

Grabbing the soap and washcloth, she slides gently into the tub behind Sage.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” she asks.

“Mmmmmm,” Sage murmurs. Her head falls back against Araphi’s chest. “I’m wonderful. You?”

“It’s far better than I expected.” She wraps her arms around Sage, loving the heat and weight of the ranger’s body against her own. Araphi’s heart pounds against her ribs, and lower down, she can feel the ache of wanting shiver between her legs.

But Sage is injured, and Araphi might love her. She can be content to just hold the ranger in the warm water while they both rest.

Sage shifts in her arms. “Can you do me a favor, Bard?”

“Anything,” Araphi breathes. She presses a kiss to Sage’s shoulder. “Just ask.”

“Help me wash?”

Araphi hadn’t expected that, but of course she can do that. She lathers up the soap on the cloth. The smell of jasmine and rosemary fills the air. Slowly, she begins to rub circles along the top of Sage’s shoulders, along the wings of her shoulder blades and then down her spine.

Sage makes a contented noise at the touch. “You’re trouble, Bard,” Sage says, relaxing into the touch. “But exactly the kind of trouble I like.”

“You’re exactly the kind of trouble I love, Ranger.”

Sage’s shoulders stiffen at the words, but Araphi scoffs, fighting to conceal the true intention behind the words.

“It’s an expression; calm down. Now, let me wash all of you, yes?”

“Yes.”

Carefully, Araphi moves from behind Sage in the tub—wider than would be required for just one bather—so she’s now in front of the ranger. Sage’s head tilts back against the edge as Araphi leans forward to kiss the ranger, long and deep. Candlelight gilds Sage’s skin and Araphi drinks in her lines, the small scars that cover her body, the contours of her muscles. She feels almost drunk. Unlike in the hot springs or even the tent, tonight this leather-tough and steel-strong woman is laid bare before Araphi in every way, and she gets to take care of her. Tenderness nearly knocks Araphi over, and her hands shake as she lathers more soap onto the cloth.

Slowly, she runs the sponge along the cups of Sage’s shoulders. Her fingers follow the sponge, tracing each inch of Sage’s skin a moment after she washes it. Sage practically purrs at the touch, leaning into it, looking more relaxed than she has for days.

Araphi takes her time, moving her hands and the cloth over the willow branches of Sage’s collarbones, the hollow at her throat, the curves of her biceps, and the apricot swell of her breasts. Slowly, she takes one of Sage’s nipples in her mouth, nibbling at the edge.

Sage squirms and Araphi circles the nipple with her tongue, enjoying every pebble and ridge of it.

Delicious.

“Bard,” Sage gasps. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re relaxed.”

She cups Sage’s breast appreciatively, and then moves on to the other nipple, teasing it until Sage grips her hair, pulling her mouth upward for a kiss.

A line of bubbles slides along Sage’s sternum, and Araphi’s fingers follow them lower. Down the planes of her stomach. Over the curve of her hips. Skirting the valley between her thighs.

“How is that, Ranger?” She washes her ankles, her calves, and then the length of her legs.

“Exceptionally good, Bard.”

“Shall I keep going?”

Another candle flares to life in the small bathroom and the smell of something savory floats in from the kitchen.

“The magic seems to think so.”

“And what do you think?” Araphi’s fingers trace circles around the soap bubbles on Sage’s lower belly, moving her hand between Sage’s legs, lightly twisting her fingers through the curls at Sage’s center, skirting ever closer to her undoing.