Free Darker by Ashe Barker Page A

and jump up.
    “What was that for?” I rub my abused bottom, glaring at him.
    “For fun, love. Just for fun.” He stands up, gloriously naked and dripping then strides over the side of the bath, using the step to leap down onto the floor. “You finish washing your hair while I get stuff ready out here. Don’t be long, Miss Byrne.” After leaning down to drop a kiss on my lips and wrap a towel around his hips he is gone.
    I hurry with my hair, slapping a splodge of shampoo on and giving it all a quick rub, then rinsing with the small shower spray attached to the showy brass taps. I even spot some conditioner, ‘specially formulated for frizzy, fly-away hair’. Nathan’s hair is not even remotely frizzy so I can only assume he’s got it just for me, the lovely man. I help myself, smoothing the creamy, calming lotion through the length of my hair, finger combing it into some sort of order before setting to again with the shower spray.
    At last I’m done, I think, so I clamber out. I poke around the side of the bath and find the switch to still the foaming water, then I press the lever to let out the plug. With a soft little gurgle the huge bath starts to empty. I help myself to a large fluffy towel and wrap myself in it, then grab another smaller one for my hair. I twist my hair in it turban-style, and check out my reflection in the full-length mirrors opposite me. My face is pink from the steam and our exertions in the bath—the flush accentuated perhaps by the contrast with the creamy fluffiness of the towels.
    Nervous about the coming prospect, I find myself playing for time. I drift over to the double sink unit and help myself to one of the toothbrushes there, quickly brushing my teeth. I check them with a growly smile in the mirror, wondering if he’ll mind me nicking his toothbrush when I could have easily gone to fetch mine from the en suite in the bedroom. Then I give my hair a blow-dry with the wired in hairdryer clipped into its holster next to the mirror, the sort of thing you sometimes find in hotels. Leaving the slightly damp copper and amber tendrils loose around my shoulders I find a long dark navy towelling robe—very masculine—hanging next to the shower cubicle and decide to borrow it. It seems more secure, more decent, than my towel so I slip my arms through it and tie the belt. Tight.
    At last, stalling over, I take a deep breath, then another, and turn to leave.
    I expect Nathan to be waiting in the bedroom, but instead he is in the dining area. And clearly this is where he intends to perform the next instalment of my adventure. Wearing just his jeans now, zipped but unbuttoned, he has laid a couple of towels over the dining table, and piled cushions in the middle. An angle poise lamp is positioned at one end, throwing a spotlight down the length of the table. He has pulled a small trolley alongside, similar to the sort of thing Damien had for his rollers and foils when he transformed my crowning glory a couple of days ago. But Nathan has collected strips of cloth by the look of it, a handful of flat wooden lolly sticks, a pair of scissors, tweezers, a bottle of baby lotion, and has a bowl of something in his hand, which he is stirring slowly. He looks up as I come in, then drops his gaze back to his bowl.
    “You took your time. Still, your problem. The softer your skin is for this the better so it’s best to do it immediately after a bath. Not half an hour later. And those painkillers won’t last forever so let’s get on, now you’re finally here. Would you mind climbing onto the table, Miss Byrne? On your back please.”
    “I didn’t realise. You should have told me.” One sardonic eyebrow quirks as he looks at me across the table, shrugging. “And anyway, what’s wrong with the bedroom? I could stretch out on the bed, more comfortable…” I ask, still hedging for time, though by now I should know that’s quite pointless.
    “You’re not going to be comfortable wherever we do