Page 90 of One Day for a Valet

“On the bed?” Sofia asked.

He nodded, patting the place beside him. “Sit with me.”

“I’ll fetch the water. It should be hot.”

“I can do that after I finish eating, Sofi. Stay and talk with me.”

She settled in beside him, and he turned his attention to his roast beef, scarcely chewing before taking the next bite. He listened while she rambled on, and she pilfered occasional bits of his food to distract herself from blatantly staring at his body.

Her interest wasn’t relegated to his intriguing parts. It was all of him. The strength of his fingers wrapped about the handle of his fork. The muscles in his throat when he worked to swallow. His long bare toes and masculine feet. He was elegance and virility and an economic strength all blended together with a magnetic grin. Feeding her the last bite of bread from his fingers, Christopher left to fetch the water.

With a few trips up and down the stairs, enough hot water had been added to take the chill off the bath. Christopher tested the temperature with his fingers, then turned to find Sofia sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, quite shamelessly watching him.

Completely unabashed, he dragged the thin cotton material of his small clothes down his legs and stepped into the tub. Sighing as he leaned back, his long eyelashes fluttered closed.

Without those intense grey eyes trained on her, Sofia’s bravery swelled. Sliding off the bed, she padded softly across the rug to kneel beside him. Rivulets of water trickled down his arms where they were propped along the sides, and his chest rose and fell in long, even pulls.

“Hello there,” he murmured without opening his eyes. Then he smiled as if he could see her surprise even with his lids still closed. “I can feel you watching me and I can smell you. Sun-warmed honeysuckle and Sofia.”

She scooped water into her hand, then trickled it over his shoulder to watch the drops meander down his collarbone, zigzagging further along his chest. His head drifted to the side, exposing his neck and stretching the thick tendon there. Accepting his invitation, she repeated the process, cupping her hand with water and drizzling it over the muscular curve of his neck. She followed the droplets with the tips of her fingers, trailing them across his bounding pulse then down his chest to tease slow circles around one puckered nipple. He hissed and gripped the side of the tub with both hands. “Sweet mercy, that feels⁠—”

“Dip under and I’ll wash your hair.”

Sofia lathered the soap in her hands and scraped her fingers into his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Then she smoothed the suds down his neck, shoulders, and arms.

He sighed. “And now I will have that cake of soap from you, my love, because I’ve gone quite long enough without touching you and I’m eager to be out of this bathtub.”

She handed him the cake of soap somewhat reluctantly, and he washed the rest of himself in quick, economical movements. When he stepped out of the tub, she met him with a length of towelling then turned to stoke the fire. A moment later, she felt him all along her back, his hands bracketing her hips, warm and steady. His solid body pressed to her back conjured feelings of contentment and safety that left her vibrating with pleasure. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head, and she leaned back into his embrace. “I love you,” he said.

She covered his hands with her own and squeezed. “Sei la sempre nel mio cuore.”

“Mmm. That sounds lovely even when I have no idea what it means.”

Sofia watched the flickering fire and the dance of golden light upon the papered wall, overwhelmed by such a strong sense of rightness that she scarcely wanted to move or speak for fear that it would burst like a bubble and disappear. Home, with this lovely man curled about her body. She could think of no greater pleasure.

“You are forever in my heart. Sei la sempre nel mio cuore,”

He kissed her temple. “I like it even more now. Shame I have to ruin the moment with a truly awkward question, but before we … It seems as if …”

Sofia giggled. “Out with it, Christopher.”

He sighed. “I know we are here alone. But I don’t want you to feel as if I am assuming we will … If you would rather wait⁠—”

“I would not. Like to wait, that is.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Are you nervous?”

“No. I suppose I should be. Virgins are meant to be nervous.”

“I’m glad you’re not.”

Another moment of silence.

“Are you nervous?” She felt his smile against her hair.

“A bit. I want to make this right for you, but when I’m with you, I have the tendency to lose my head.”

“I quite like it when you lose your head.”