"We'll take it from here," Richard said.
"Remus was really clear that I am to follow every order exactly."
I sighed. "Cisco, just go."
He took his hand out of the water, shaking droplets off it. "Okay." His eyes were too wide, his face too bothered by us. He was a wererat; no lycanthrope should have this much problem around nudity. But it wasn't the nudity, I didn't think, but the fact that we were going to have sex. That bothered him. I'd declared that I was a twenty-one-or-older zone. Cisco's face made me think I needed to make that rule stick.
I got a flash of the gun at his hip as he moved past us. Remus said Cisco had one of the best scores on the firing range of any guard. But high scores weren't the only thing you needed to be a bodyguard.
The bathroom door closed, firmly. Richard stood there, holding me as if it were effortless, as if I weighed nothing and he could have done it all night. Sometimes it bugged me to know how much stronger the men were than I was, but not this morning. This morning it seemed comforting.
"Can I say something without you getting mad?" Richard asked.
I tensed, I couldn't help it. "I don't know."
He sighed, but he said it. "Cisco seems too young to be doing this."
"I agree."
He moved his head against the top of mine, as if he'd glance down at me if my face was where he could have seen it. "You agree?"
"Yeah, he's been weird around me since…" I didn't say it out loud, because I didn't want to upset Richard either. But Cisco had been in the room when I'd had sex with London, one of our British vamps, for the first time. Cisco had had trouble not seeing me as a piece of ass since that moment. He was young, young in ways that weren't just about how old he was. "Since he saw some stuff," I finished, and hoped Richard would let it be.
He did. He carried me to the edge of the tub. The water was very loud, rushing into the huge tub. Jean-Claude had explained to me that the swan spout that filled it was hooked up to a system that filled the tub extra fast. I had a tub almost that big at home, and apparently my system was like his, a quick fill. Since I had bought the house with the tub and system in place I hadn't realized there was anything special about it. High-tech tubs, who knew? Richard hugged me, and again I got a flash of that amazing strength. "I want to check the water, but I'm really enjoying carrying you."
"Me, too," I said.
He rested his face against my hair. "Really?"
"Yes," I said, and I would have whispered it, except the water was loud enough that true whispering wasn't possible.
He stepped into the water with me in his arms. I laughed and lifted enough to see his face. "Shouldn't you check the temperature first?"
The look on his face made the laughter leak away. Eager, amazed, just so many emotions. Lately when we'd been together the only thing I'd seen in his face had been lust. We'd both shut down our emotions, kept ourselves safe. It had had that feel of sex at the end of a relationship, when sex is all you have left, and it isn't enough.
"The temperature's fine," he said, his voice soft. He knelt down, still holding me. He folded all that six feet and change down into the water, and just above his waist the water hit me. It was warm, almost hot. The water slid over my body like another set of hands, gliding, exploring. He was right, the temperature was fine.
He whispered against my hair, "How much do you hurt?"
"I ache all over."
"We'll get cleaned up first, then let your body soak in the water. Hot water helps." He kissed my forehead, then lowered us both down into the water, so that he was almost floating with me held across his chest. He let go of me with one arm, so he could half-swim, half-pull us to the water faucet. My legs trailed out into the water, but the rest of me was held tight to his chest. He sat down against the side of the tub. The water came to his upper chest, which meant it was almost chin deep to me. He kept me pinned to the front of his body, and I was okay with that. Touching was good.
"Enough water?" He made it a question.
"Yes," I said.
He reached back and turned off the water, then settled down with me cuddled against the front of his body. The height difference was enough that to keep my chin above water I couldn't cup my body against anything but his chest and stomach, with the rest of my body mostly floating. It was probably just as well; if too much of him touched me, I tended to get distracted. We were going to let some of the aches and pains drift away before we got distracted. He kissed the side of my face, and I settled into his arms, and the warm, warm water.
It was relaxing, or should have been, but there was a kernel of me that couldn't relax completely. What was wrong?
"What's wrong?" Richard asked.
"Nothing."
"You're tense."
I sighed. "I don't know."
His hand slid down the side of my body to cup my hip. "It seems like unless we're having sex, you get tense when we're alone."
"I don't mean to," I said.
He wrapped his arms around me and forced my body lower as he rose, so that certain parts of his anatomy were touching me. He wasn't as hard as he got, but even partially erect he was a special treat. The feel of him pressed to the back of my butt felt wonderful. It made me writhe against him, which made his body react, growing, moving against my body. It was all involuntary, and I loved knowing that I affected him like that. He pushed against me, and it brought a small sound from my lips.
"So quick, so eager. God, I do love that about you." He whispered it against my face.
"I wanted to make love to you months before you'd say yes."
"I was afraid." He nuzzled my neck, biting just a little.
That little biting made me writhe more. The aches and pains were starting to fade under the first wave of endorphins, those happy little chemicals. "Afraid of what?" I whispered.
He bit harder, and my spine bowed with it. "You."
"Why?"
He cupped his mouth around the side of my throat and bit down. I cried out for him; my nails clawed at his arms. I finally had to say, "Enough, enough."
He eased back and turned me in the water so that I was facing him. He drew me in against the front of his body, and he was hard and eager now. The feel of him against the front of my body made me cry out.
He cupped my ass, pressed me harder against the front of him. I pushed at his body, almost like I wanted to get away, but that wasn't what I was thinking. It was just almost too much, for some reason. The feel of him so eager, so big, trapped between our bodies. It was almost too much.
He shuddered, head back, his voice panting, "God, Anita, God, I love the way you react to me. I do love it!"
I wrapped my body around him, pressed the length of him against the most intimate part of me. It made me cry out and press myself tighter against him.
He pushed me against the side of the tub and moved his hips away enough to try to angle himself for my opening. I didn't protest, until the tip of him started inside and my body let me know that the combination of water—which is not a lubricant—lack of foreplay, and his size meant this wasn't going to work.
I half-patted, half-slapped his chest. "Too big, you're too big."
"The water," he said, breathy. He leaned his hands on the sides of the tub, face down, the head of him still inside me. "If you release the ardeur, we can do it."
"But I'll be sore afterward, and so will you."
He moved his hips a little, and the sensation, even tight, made me catch my breath. "Not too sore," he said.
"Yes," I said, "trust me. I don't want to be walking funny tomorrow."
He raised his head enough to frown at me. "We've never done it before like this—how can you be so sure?"