3. Three

Three

T he warm water soothes my aching muscles, and the fragrant scent of lavender-and-peony bubble bath fills my nostrils. I rest my head against the white enamel of the roll-top bath, take a deep, relaxing breath in, and close my eyes, surrounded by a mountain of fluffy white bubbles. It's late, but I don't care. I need something to help me unwind after the events of today.

The click of the bathroom door makes me open my eyes and lift my head. Art appears. He sees me in the bath, then pushes the door open wider, and walks in, smiling.

"I didn't realise you were taking a bath."

"Yeah, it'll help me relax."

"I've been on the phone to Big Steve, catching up about the club, but if I'd known you were in here … "

He lowers himself onto his haunches beside the bath and leans to give me a kiss. I resist the urge to pull him in with me.

He stands up and begins to take his clothes off. "Room for one more?"

Before I have a chance to reply, he's holding the side of the bath and climbing in, sending bubbles sloshing over the edge of the tub and water spilling across the hexagonal grey floor tiles.

"Careful."

"It's only water."

The huge bath is swamped as the tall, broad length of him fills every inch of it, and he sinks down into the water. I adjust to make room for him as he positions his long legs outside mine.

He pushes wet hands through his hair, slicking it back. "Are you sure you're okay after today?"

"It's been eventful, but I'll live." I rest my head back against the bath once more and glance around the room. "It's been sort of cathartic, telling you about Theo. Even though we all know how much better we feel when we talk about stuff, it's still hard to do. I feel somehow lighter now that I've told someone and admitted what he did." I shake my head. "But no more talk of him tonight."

Art nods slowly and breaks out into a grin. "Okay. Do you want to hear a confession?"

"Always."

His eyes hold mine across the sea of bubbles. "This is the first time I've shared a bath with anyone."

"So, you're telling me, you've never done this with any of the other women you've slept with?" I say sceptically.

He frowns, but the smile still on his lips tells me he's seen the funny side. "No."

"How come?"

Art puts his arms along the sides of the bath and rests his head back. "At the risk of sounding like an arsehole, I just had sex with them. There was no place for romantic stuff like this. "

The fact that he's never done this before makes me smile. "And how are you finding it?"

His eyes lock with mine. "The view's to die for. Shall I tell you something else?"

I lift my head, intrigued. "Of course."

"I've obviously never had sex in the bath before either."

He tilts his head to the side, and I recognise the flash of need in his eyes. I grow hot, and it's not because of the warm water. I know what he's getting at.

"But I'm still on my period," I remind him.

He frowns as if he doesn't understand what the problem is. "So?"

I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. The one time I suggested it to Theo, he branded it disgusting and made me feel unclean. I never dared mention it again.

"I didn't think men liked that."

A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth at my clear unease in talking about it. "I really don't mind that. It's perfectly natural."

"Of course it is."

"Listen, Sophie, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I want you. All the time, always. But I understand if you don't want to, and that's fine. We can wait."

I wasn't the one who had the issue with it. Theo did. And Art's not Theo.

"I want to."

He flashes a wicked grin and shifts towards me. The water splashes up the sides of the bath as he slides his hands beneath my knees and opens my legs wide, lifting them up so my feet rest on the edge of the bath, and I lean back against the side. He settles in between my legs and holds the edge of the bath to steady himself as I wrap my arms around his damp shoulders. He's already deliciously hard.

"Do you want to hear another confession?"

"They're coming thick and fast today," I tease.

His eyes devour my breasts peeking from beneath the water. "I'm kind of relieved you don't have a problem with it because I wasn't sure how I was going to manage to keep my hands off you for a whole week each month. "

I press myself against him and push my breasts against his chest, kissing him on the lips. A week is far too long not to have him inside me. "Ditto."

"God, you're beautiful," he whispers against my mouth.

I bask beneath his words and bunch fingers through his hair. His rock-hard erection is pressed against my entrance, and he's one thrust away from claiming me. The knowledge that we're so close sets my already-racing pulse into overdrive, and I close my eyes as he glides his lips down my neck, leaving a trail of fire on my skin with his hot, heavy mouth. A sigh falls from my lips as I tilt my head, leaning into his kisses, as he knows exactly what to do to unravel me. And he doesn't stop. He slides his cock against my clitoris, causing my breath to catch in my throat and a ball of warmth to build between my legs, and when he dips his head to suck on my nipple, I'm already there.

"Please … Art …" I beg.

A deep, low groan coming from the back of his throat tells me his resolve's crumbled, and he enters me.

"Jesus, Sophie." He closes his eyes at the divine throbbing, tightening sensation of us together. After a few seconds, he opens his eyes and looks at me. "Are you okay?" he asks, checking in case it's somehow different this time round.

I give him a reassuring kiss on the lips. "I'm fine." I'm more than fine. To show him, I kiss him deeply and roll my hips to meet his thrusts, sending a wave of water over the edge of the bath and splashing across the floor. "Shit."

"Fuck it," he pants against my ear. "I need you."

His words cause the pressure building between my legs to soar. I tilt my head back as his hot mouth scores my throat with kisses. His thrusts speed up, sending more water cascading across the floor. I'm losing myself in him, and him in me. This is what we need. Nothing else matters.

"You feel fucking fantastic."

I whimper in delight. This feels fucking fantastic. It's as if everything is that little bit more heightened and sensitive.

He fixes me with a penetrating stare. "Tell me you love me. "

I cup his jaw in my hands and gaze into his eyes. "I love you."

We come together. My declaration alone enough to push us both over the edge. I sink my fingernails into the flesh of his shoulders and soak up each mind-blowing contraction as they ripple through me. His lips seal mine as he groans into my mouth, falling apart around me. I'm giddy with what he does to me and the way we feel together.

"I think half of the bathroom floor's underwater after that," he pants, getting his breath back.

I draw my head back to look at him. "You know, if I'd have gone on top, then we might not have made quite as much of a mess," I point out.

He laughs softly. "You know how much I like being in control."

"Have you ever let a woman take the lead in bed?"

"No."

"Never?"

He lifts his eyebrows. "Is that really a surprise?"

"Well, I suppose not, but … well, I thought you might have tried it, just once."

"I thought you got my control thing."

"I do; I do. But would you ever consider it?"

He frowns. "I'm not sure."

"Not even with me?"

His gaze softens.

I smile and rake my fingers through his hair. "It could be the same as the bath thing."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, I could be the first woman you try it with."

He gives me an easy smile. "I'll think about it."

"You're always telling me to try new things."

"I'll think about it," he insists, pressing a kiss to my lips.

I know he's trying to distract me, but this time, I let him.

"How long does it take to properly arrange a wedding? "

My eyes snap open at the out-of-the-blue question. I draw my head back to see him looking at me intensely. He's not joking, and I know he's not going to like my answer. He's already said he wants us married within six months.

"Realistically, about a year, to find a venue—"

"That's not an option," he cuts me off. The reality of him having to wait that long is clearly inconceivable. "Like I've said, six months. Max." His eyes search mine. "And even that's too long for me to wait."

"Well, if you've already made up your mind, why the bloody hell did you ask me?"

"I'm sorry. It's just the longer we're engaged, the more I want us to be married. You're my chance to do something good and decent with my life for a change."

I feel a pang of remorse. I hate hearing him talk about himself like this. "Don't say that. Don't talk about your life as if it were nothing. You're a successful—"

"Businessman," he interrupts. "Professionally, my life's been blessed. Personally, it's been a total fuck-up from birth. It changed when I went to live with Mum and Dad, but I was still lost. Even though business took off, the professional successes felt like hollow victories. None of it meant anything … until I met you."

"Is that why you want us to get married quickly? You see it as your chance to somehow start afresh?"

"Yes. Me and you. Us together." His eyes shine with sincerity. "December, Sophie. I want us to get married in December. Is that enough time?"

That's four months away.

"It's possible, I suppose, but it's a bit short notice …"

"I don't care where we get married or if it's just you and me …"

"We'll need at least two other people to act as witnesses."

He shrugs, and I really believe that he wouldn't care if it were just me and him and the registrar.

"Okay," I agree. "December it is then."

His face lights up. "You'll be officially mine by the end of the year."

I know all too well how much of a challenge it's going to be to find a wedding venue in four months—not to mention, my dress and the suits and the cake. But despite my better judgement and the fact that I know I'm asking for a headache, I can't stop myself from grinning like a fool.