Yes, she'd always had an artist's eye. She looked at things in terms of relief and shadow, color and contrast. Because of the nature of her work, she paid attention to form and function.

And now she could see the shapes she'd only felt. She could take her time registering the utter might of his body.

The raised muscles around his shoulders. The indentation above each of his bulging biceps. The strong fingers now clutching the side of the tub.

She couldn't decide which of her senses Daciano appealed to most. Tactile, visual? Not to mention his vampire scent. She wasn't even surprised to find her slick palms slipping lower down his back, exploring him.

Outside, the rain began to pour, the wind to howl. Inside was all sultry warmth and glowing firelight. Her eyelids drooped to half-mast, then slid shut as she lost herself in sensation-the texture of his skin beneath her sensitive fingertips, the unyielding form of his sculpted back, the heat rising from the water, from his very body.

For her work, she honed and tweaked, iteration after iteration, until she found her creation faultless.

I wouldn't change an inch of his body. Not one single inch.

As she wondered if she could grow addicted to this . . . this exploration, she kneaded his neck. He exhaled a relaxed breath, sinking back into her hands.

She went up on her knees to reach farther forward-and possibly to steal a peek. But the water still concealed him. All she could make out was a shadowy shape at his groin, that enticingly large shape she'd stroked. Had it pulsed in the water?

How titillating. She would give karats to see it.

Too late, she realized she'd dipped her palms over his shoulders, down past his collarbone. She was officially tending to his "front."

Relaxed no more, he grew tense as a spring trap, even as his knees fell wide.

Instead of alarm, excitement coursed through her. Her hands slipped lower.

His knuckles went white as he gripped the side of the tub. The metal began to bend under the pressure. . . .

Don't drag her into the water . . . don't force her hands down.

Last night Trehan had restrained himself-barely-and had been rewarded with her desire this eve. Tonight he must do the same.

Bettina wasn't immune to him, and he was one step closer to seducing her. Which meant he needed to deny instinct once more, and use his mind to win her. Remember the plan!

Again, easier said . . .

Even now her dainty hands glided over his collarbone, her graceful arms lightly draping over his shoulders.

Even now her breaths fanned over his damp ear. Each exhalation made his c**k jerk hungrily beneath the water.

Chapter 21

His Bride was teaching him much about himself this eve, awakening him even more. He'd never known how sensitive his ears were. Or his shoulders. Or the back of his neck. . . .

When she'd begun kneading his muscles, he realized his plan had worked all too well. She was lost to sensation.

A sensual little sorceress. His Bride was o comoara. A treasure.

Comoara mea. My treasure.

Was she leaning forward to get a look at his shaft? She'd felt it; now she must want to see it. Though he wasn't often the subject of scrutiny, he was about to be.

Zeii, I want to show it to her. The idea aroused him unbearably; his hips began to rock. Would his be the first one she'd seen hard? Definitely the last one.

Should he take himself in hand and present it . . . ? The notion faded when she rubbed her palms lower than before.

This had been his plan. His seduction. Now he could barely think. Was my chest always this sensitive-

She grazed his ni**les; he hissed, bowing his back for more, clenching his fists on the sides of the tub.

When his fingers dug furrows into the groaning iron, she went still.

He'd frightened her, ruining this-

She grazed them again.

"Bettina!" he roared, bucking his hips uncontrollably. For a brief second, cool air met his upthrust cock.

She gasped at his ear, making him shudder. She'd seen a glimpse. How would she react? What would she do next?

She leaned in closer, until the side of her face was touching his. Her lovely unmasked face. Skin to skin. Panting, she eased forward even more. When the corners of their lips were flush, his parted in surprise.

Though it was torture, he went motionless. What will she do next?

He held his breath. His c**k pained him as never before. His body began to quake-

Then came one sly dart of her little tongue . . . the lightest dab at the edge of his mouth, just inside his parted lips.

Thought fled.

With a roar, he traced to his feet to seize his prize.

The vampire's hands shot out for her.

"Wait!" Bettina cried as she tumbled from her knees to one hip.

He froze. Gradually, he straightened. Between ragged breaths, he said, "I'd never hurt you, Bett. Never."

She frowned up at him. That thought hadn't crossed her mind. If she'd feared him, then she wouldn't have been trying to tease him to distraction-so he'd thrust his hips and show her his erection again.

Her one fleeting glimpse as it'd breached the surface of the water left her beset with curiosity. With desire.

In lieu of thrusting, his standing completely naked in front of her worked too.

Oh, my gold, how this works.

He must've realized she had no fear of him because he put his shoulders back, must've realized that she'd craved this view because he lifted his chin.

"You want to see your male?" he grated, masculine pride suffusing his tone.

"My male?" A male. This male . . .