The Executed Empress Proposed to His Scarred Brother novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: The Copper Tub

The veil burned slowly, and the silver lace curled up black in the grate.

Iseult kept the card.

She tucked it under the one book in the tower, and that was the end of the Emperor for the day.

It was the second evening, and the maids had carried up the last bucket of hot water and fled.

The copper tub behind the screen steamed.

Ilarion stood beside it in his shirt sleeves, rolling his cuffs to the elbow.

"Get in," he said.

"You first."

"I'll wash you."

"Why do you get to give all the orders?"

"I don't. You asked me for them, and I'm a man of my word."

She laughed, caught, and unbuttoned her gown.

The water closed around her to the collarbone, hot enough to sting, and the knots in her shoulders let go.

She leaned her head against the copper rim and shut her eyes.

A cloth squeezed out above her head, and warm drops ran down her neck.

Ilarion washed her hair with the slow concentration he gave to everything.

His hands were big, and the pads of his fingers were rough.

He worked the soap through the copper-red length of her hair.

She heard her own sigh echo off the stone.

"That's the best thing anyone has ever done for me," she said.

"It's soap."

"It's not the soap."

He rinsed her hair with a jug and lifted it all away from her neck.

Then he was kneeling at the side of the tub, and his mouth was on the nape of her neck.

It was warm and wet, and she stopped being able to think about hair.

"Ilarion."

"Mm."

"Come in with me."

"Not yet."

His hand slid down her wet shoulder and over her breast.

He cupped it, heavy in his palm, and ran his thumb across the nipple until it stood hard.

"Stand up."

She stood.

Water streamed from her skin and ran down her thighs.

He looked at her, and she felt the heat of it as clearly as the bath.

"Turn around. Hands on the rim."

She turned, and he kissed her spine, one wet kiss after another.

He kissed all the way down to the dimples above her hips.

His mouth lingered on the swell of her bottom.

"Gods," he said. "You are a feast."

"Then eat."

"Later. I want something else first."

He stood, and he was fully dressed, and his shirt was soaked through at the sleeves.

"I want you to take me in your mouth."

Her pulse leapt.

"I've never done it."

"Then I'll teach you."

She turned back to face him and sank down onto her knees in the hot shallow water, with the tub's rim against her back.

He unbuttoned his trousers.

His cock swung heavy and hard in front of her face, thick as her wrist, and she felt her mouth water.

"Take it in your hand."

She wrapped her fingers around the base.

It was hot and velvety and hard as stone, and it throbbed against her palm.

"Stroke it. Slowly."

She stroked.

He let out a long breath through his nose.

"Now put your mouth on the tip."

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