Chapter 2
"Niles…" she drew the single syllable out into at least two, in what was nearly a purr.
"Yes?" He paused as he unbuttoned his dripping shirt.
"What is taking you so long? Aren't you going to finish my hair?"
"Hold your horses, Babcock," he responded gruffly.
She heard his shirt flop wetly onto the tiles near the tub and raised an eyebrow. "Get a move on; I don't have all day."
He leaned close to her ear. "I'll do it when I'm good and ready."
"Well damn, I'm never getting out of this bathtub," she sighed theatrically.
"Ha ha," he said, scrunching his face into a pout and seizing the showerhead once more.
"Shampoo's next," she volunteered helpfully, amusement in her voice.
"Oh, for—" he twisted the knob and dropped the showerhead, splashing her in the process. He watched the droplets glide down her pale skin, then reached for the bottle of shampoo that cost, he was sure, more than all the personal care products he used in a year's time. He squirted a dollop into his palm and rubbed his hands together before beginning to massage the cleanser into her scalp.
She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes at how good his hands felt.
Too soon, he announced, "All clean," and turned the spray back on. He was careful to select a comfortable temperature, and then rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. He tried not to watch the bubbles as they made their way down her body.
"Conditioner?" She demanded, when he moved to grab the body wash. It might have been more forceful if she hadn't been on track to feeling as relaxed as one could with a sore chest and an awful cast immobilizing an arm.
"Bossy," he said, and got the conditioner instead. As he worked the cream through the knots in her hair, he could swear he heard a tiny moan escape from Babcock's lips. For reasons of maintaining his own sanity, he told himself it must be from the pain. And surely she was only tormenting him with her nakedness. To consider any other motivation was to invite crushing disappointment if he were wrong.
"Now my back," she instructed.
"Don't you want me to rinse your hair first?"
"No, that's last. Back now." She spoke in monosyllables as the medication she had swallowed before her bath finally began to allow her to ignore the aches in her body. She refused to consider the role Niles's ministrations might be playing in the lassitude that was overtaking her.
"Have you been drinking?" He inquired, thinking surely she had better sense than to mix alcohol with opiates.
"No," she said rudely. "I did take a couple pills, though." She shifted in the water, stretching her back because she could.
"A couple? You're only supposed to take half of one!" If he hadn't personally seen her consume a good amount of a bottle of Glenfiddich and conduct business as usual, he'd be stunned she was still conscious.
"Half wasn't cutting it, drama queen. Now do my back." As always, arguing with him made her anything but sleepy.
"Give me your washcloth, then." He wasn't too worried—she was as irritable as ever.
"You get it," she said, her voice husky.
He looked for the cloth, which had sunk to the bottom of the tub in the triangle of CC's folded legs. Bubbles partially obscured his view. "Miss Babcock," he said formally, "are you quite sure that's a good idea?"
"Mmm hmm," she hummed, and it sounded nearly like a moan.
Clenching his teeth, he reached down, his bare chest making contact with her back. She flexed into him, sucking in a breath at the feel of his chest hair against her skin. He let his hand graze the side of her breast, then her stomach, as he slowly made his way toward the cloth. Grasping it, he dragged the material from the bottom of the tub up across her body. Her nipples tightened, and she breathed his name.
"I don't think," he began, "that this is very wise." He clutched the washcloth and drew away slightly.
She mourned the loss of his warmth against her. "Since when," she murmured, "have we ever been wise?"
He tilted his head in acknowledgement and reached for the body wash. "Lean forward a bit; I'll do your back."
She obliged, and he ran the cloth deftly over every inch of her shoulders. She held her uninjured arm out for him, and he jerked back as he caught himself leaning to trail his lips over her soft skin. He washed it thoroughly instead, then moved the cloth down her spine to her lower back. Dropping the fabric, he ran his hands over her skin, pressing against her muscles, draining every bit of tension from them.
"My god, do they teach that in butler school?" She asked as he gripped her around the waist and pushed his thumbs against her spine. Her head sagged forward, and it didn't even hurt.
"Or as I like to call it, the University of Oxford," he said sourly, trying to hide his labored breathing.
CC smiled lazily at the reference to Oxford. If she had to be involved with a butler, at least he was a well educated one. Wait, involved with? That had escalated quickly, and she cursed the drugs in her system that would make her even think such a thing. She was supposed to be making him suffer, not... "Now my legs," she ordered, partly to distract herself from such vexing thoughts.
"How am I supposed to reach your legs?" He complained, even as his pulse quickened at the thought of running his hands over the lengths of them.
"I know you're a very old man, but if you could just stretch those aged muscles a bit…"
He heard the grin in her voice, and his own lips stretched in response. "I see you missed your daily waxing," he grunted as he used the washcloth to soap her legs.
She shifted so he could reach behind her knees. "My razor is on the counter by the sink," she directed.
His mouth dropped open in faux shock. "You'd trust me with a razor blade?"
"I have… ways of exacting revenge," she threatened, and stretched one long leg out of the water. "I'll raise your fee to five hundred if you manage not to cut me."
"You don't have to pay me," he mimicked, and used the washcloth as a puppet.
"Shave gel's beside the razor," she said, doing her level best to ignore the memory that evoked. She'd been truly desperate that night.
As he leaned across her to smooth the gel onto the leg she'd extended, he said "This isn't going to work. I can't reach far enough, and god knows I need all the purchase I can get to fell this forest." Niles reached into the water to rinse his hands, then dried them on her towel.
"Oh, come on," CC began, but stopped when she heard him unzipping his trousers. "What are you—"
Wearing only his boxers, Niles stepped into the tub and then sat on the edge of it, wielding the razor in his left hand. "Said I couldn't reach," he shrugged, and began dragging the razor over her calf.
CC bit her lip and didn't respond, but she gazed in open admiration as the muscles in his back contracted with each stroke.
"Uh uh," she grunted when he stopped a few inches past her knee. "You have to do the whole leg."
"The rest of your leg is underwater," he protested, but seeing that she was implacable, he sighed and released the plug to allow some of the water to drain. When it was low enough, he replaced the stopper.
"Gel," she admonished when he lowered the razor to her skin.
"Very good, Miss Babcock," he said. Niles spread the gel onto her upper thigh, keeping his eyes strictly on the job at hand. His thoughts, well, were a different story, but as far as he knew, mind-reading was not one of Babcock's many talents. His breathing was ragged by the time her entire leg was hair-free, and if his hand had slipped a time or two in the process, she hadn't registered any protests.
When he'd finished her left leg, she wordlessly stretched out her right and watched him as he shaved it. She had to pull her hand back when she found herself reaching to touch his thigh as he twisted his body to get close enough to finish her ankle.
"Anything else you'd like me to use the razor on?" He offered, with a failed attempt at an innocent expression. He absent-mindedly trailed his fingers up the inside of her silky leg, jolting into awareness as he passed her upper thigh.
CC curled her lips into a smirk and swatted his hand away. As he turned to step out of the tub, he caught the look on her face and it sent a shiver of pleasure up his spine.
"We'll save that for another time," she said sarcastically, and he couldn't help but wish she meant it. "Now wash this side," she said, indicating her chest. The anticipation of his touch almost made her quiver.