“You don’t need one,” he replied. “I always keep an eye on you. Nobody else is going to see.”
“I’m not worried about anybody else seeing, you degenerate.”
“I’m no more degenerate than any man is around a beautiful woman. A beautiful, available woman who’s living under my roof, no less.”
She glared at him, and he gave her a crooked grin.
“Seems like we’re in a bit of a standoff,” he said. “Seems to me like you haven’t finished your bath, and that water is going to get cold sooner or later. Would you like me to help you?”
“No,” she snapped. “You can get the hell out.”
“Nope, I don’t think so.”
“I’ll scream!”
“If you do, someone will come in and see us and your reputation will be ruined,” he smirked. “You’d have to make an honest man out of me. Of course, that’s fine with me. Go ahead and scream.”
She gritted her teeth, looking over to the length of toweling cloth she’d laid out earlier. If she stood and lunged for it, how much would he see? His eyes followed hers, and then he leaned over and grabbed the cloth, throwing it behind his chair.
“You aren’t going to get off that easy,” he remarked. Catherine glared at him, trying to decide her next move. Ever since the day at the creek she’d been avoiding him, but maybe it was time to confront the situation. Call his bluff. He wanted a show? She’d give it to him. It had nothing to do with the way he’d been looking at Maria, she assured herself. She didn’t need his attention or his admiration. But if he wanted to play this little game again, she’d take it as far as he would. After all, once she took the teaching job she wouldn’t be seeing him much anymore.
“I’m going to finish my bath,” she said haughtily, pulling her hands away from her br**sts. His sucked in his breath, hard, and she closed her eyes. She didn’t think she could handle watching him watching her. She’d die of embarrassment—she was pretty close already. Good girls didn’t do things like this.
Of course, good girls didn’t feel all jealous of their hired help, either. She shook out her hair, smoothing it back, and then grabbed her precious bar of lilac soap. It had been a Christmas gift from Wade. She loved how it made her smell, bringing fantasies of being a fancy lady back East, the kind of woman who wore silks and satins and had a maid to do all the hard work.
“Mmmmm…” she murmured, rubbing the fragrant soap into her hair. She worked up a good lather, then ducked under the water to rinse it off. When she rose back up, she knelt up in the tub, rubbing the soap around her br**sts. The cool spring air made her ni**les stand up hard, but she didn’t shiver. It felt good. She rubbed the tiny peaks, enjoyed the tingles that ran through her body, and then opened her eyes to look at Wade.
The expression on his face more than satisfied.
His eyes had gone dark, the hand resting on his knee clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white.
“Like what you see?” she asked. He nodded his head slowly, not bothering to respond with words. She let her hands trail down across her stomach, the soap smoothing her way until she reached the cleft between her legs. She’d touched herself before, of course. Alone in her bed at night.
Never with another person present.
The air hung thick between them as she slid her fingers into the thatch of hair, rubbing it sensuously and burrowing her fingers down to the little nubbin of her clit. She gasped as her fingers ran across it the first time, the delicious slide sending desire running through her body. Her ni**les grew hard, and she tilted her head to one side. Holding it up straight just seemed like too much work.
“Open your eyes,” Wade said, his voice grating. “Look at me.”
She obeyed, unable to resist. His gaze bore into hers, dark with need and a desire terrifying in its depth. He was like a giant cat, a predator poised to leap on its prey, yet he held himself back with a visible effort.
Still holding her eyes, he unbuttoned his shirt, each button revealing more of his hard, bronzed chest. He must work without his shirt sometimes, she thought, wishing she could be there to see it. As the fabric fell open, he ran his fingers across his chest, rubbing against his tiny ni**les. Catherine reached up with one hand and touched her own br**sts, mirroring him. His low groan carried across the kitchen, the need in his voice raw and filled with pain.
“Show me more,” she whispered, desire overwhelming common sense. “I want to see all of you.”
Wade responded by opening the fly of his Levi’s and slowly pulling out his enormous, erect penis. The head glistened, hard and red, and a tiny pearl of moisture gleamed at her in the light of the lantern. Without thinking, Catherine licked her lips and rubbed between her legs again, sagging as little as her knees threatened to give out. She wanted that shaft in her, thrusting hard into her softness. She wanted him to fill her up and shoot her with his hot seed, and she wanted him to do it now.
Instead she watched as he gripped his rod with one hand, sliding it slowly and steadily up and down the length as he watched her. After a few strokes it grew impossibly bigger. Catherine started caressing herself again, every slip of her fingers near-painful with the intensity of the sensation. Pleasure mixed with need rippled through her body, her ni**les hard as rocks. They felt connected to her clit with an invisible string that pulled harder with every movement, until she felt tight and on the verge of breaking.
Oh heavens, what had she gotten herself into?
Wade rubbed his c**k up and down, each time his fingers pulling and squeezing harder. Looking at her hurt him, caused him actual, physical pain—he wanted to f**k her that badly. He wanted to rise out of his chair, pull her out of the tub and throw her across the table. He’d screw her until she screamed, until every muscle in her body was clamped tight around him, and push his seed so far into her body that she’d never forget his claim on her.
Instead, he simply watched, touching himself and pretending it was her hand on him, even as she slid her fingers in and out of the hot slit he should own. He already knew how good she tasted, how warm her juices were for him. But this—watching Cat stroke herself with her own fingers—that was something he’d never dreamed he’d get to see. Her breath came quickly now, her br**sts heaving as her fingers flew faster and faster. He let his own hand copy hers, pulling so hard on his c**k it would have hurt if he wasn’t so damn close to exploding. His gaze held hers, and as her eyes darkened he felt his own responding. He’d never needed a woman more, never imagined one woman could be so desirable. The pounding of his pulse, the heat of his cock, the pressure building in his loins—all of it was completely centered on her.