Free No Limits by Jenna McCormick Page A

sight of her reflection in the glass mounted above the dressing table. A few shuffling steps drew them closer. Rhys took his time, learning the way her form naturally moved. When he reached the dresser, he rested his palms flat on the wood and surveyed Gen’s body.
    “You are absolute perfection,” he breathed, taking in the sway of her generous breasts, the taut nipples that stood to attention from the chill in the room.
    Thank you. He sensed her mingled embarrassment and pleasure at his heartfelt compliment. Such fascinating contradictions.
    “Don’t you see it?” He watched as her eyebrows drew down in the mirror, telegraphing his frustration.
    Her embarrassment unfurled, showing him the self-conscious center she kept hidden behind bluster. It’s just a body.
    “No, it’s so much more than that. The curves, the dips and hollows, so smooth. Gorgeous, perfect skin, soft hair,” Rhys murmured, enjoying the sound of her voice. The pitch grew lower, huskier when heard through her ears. He trailed his fingertips over her gently rounded belly, the flare of her generous hips. “You are the incarnation of what a woman ought to be, what every man desires.”
    Not all men. Her mind flashed him a picture of Javier and Steven. He smiled in understanding.
    “I’ll grant you that. Should we go visit them?” He made the offer because he understood how much watching their play had distracted her from her mental composure. Truth be known, he didn’t want to share her, even just to watch the others. She was his task and his pleasure all rolled into one.
    And as long as he remained inside her, he would be safe from the pull of his wax prison.
    No. They have things to work out on their own. I’m happy where I am.
    He sagged, surprised at how much that relieved him. “So, bath, then?”
    I’d like that.
     
    Using her hands, Marshal explored her body, building arousal in their wake. The warm water felt heavenly, and after all the touching, she couldn’t deny her craving for an orgasm or two or a dozen.
    Hot water poured from the tap and lapped against her nipples. He’d also discovered the jets built into the oversized spa tub, the forced air maneuvering the water until it eased the knots along her spine.
    “I need to get to know you, to better control your movements,” he explained as his hands again went to her chest. Marshal had her totally blissed out with the way he touched, pinched, strummed, and stroked. She’d had no idea her breasts were so receptive to that sort of stimulation. Still she felt the need to offer a token protest.
    That sounds like a very convenient excuse to me, Marshal, she all but purred.
    His hands stilled and she sensed something had unsettled him. He didn’t speak, though, and she couldn’t read his thoughts the way he did hers.
    What? Did I say something wrong?
    After shutting the water off, he reclined her body back in the tub, letting the jets pulse against her while he continued to dabble. “I’ve never felt true arousal from a woman’s perspective before. It’s ... unique.”
    So he didn’t want to play question-and-answer. His dismissal hurt, but she shoved it away. He wasn’t rejecting her, just the topic of conversation. She decided to retrench.
    Now, why don’t I believe that?
    The organic loofah he washed her with dripped little splashes of water over her puckered nipples. “Believe what you will, Gen. But I’m no ladies’ man.”
    Though she might be a total fool, she believed him. Curiosity goaded her into asking, So, how is female arousal different?
    As if she’d given him permission, Marshal skimmed her hands down between her legs. “It’s more scattered throughout your body, though no less intense. I feel it in your head and belly, as well as in your reproductive organs.”
    He made it sound so clinical, which was bizarre considering the tender way he stroked her clit, varying pressure and rhythm to see what her body responded to best. “How does this feel to you