More Than She Bargained For – Chapter 7

Ahhh, now this is more like it . . . Rebecca mused as she luxuriated in the sweet smelling, bubbly, hot bath.

Within minutes of meeting Jarrod Barkley, she knew he was a man who could pamper her in the ways to which she was accustomed. He was a cut above, classy and debonair, his movements full of grace. His deep, honeyed voice was a delight to her ears. He was highly educated and therefore someone she could have an intelligent conversation with, and he was an accomplished, wealthy professional.

Handsome, he had striking features, including the unusual combination of jet-black hair and cerulean blue eyes. After being in his presence for the first time, she had wanted him for her own, and, as was usually true, whatever she wanted, she got. However, even she, very used to getting her way, had been amazed at how quickly she had been married to this man of her dreams.

While she enjoyed the victory of bagging her quarry, somewhere in the back of her mind the truth lingered. She was the one who had been caught in her own trap. She thought about the feeling she’d had earlier that somewhere underneath that cool, charming exterior of his lay some edginess, some masculine . . . wildness about him, subject to no female manipulation or demand.

Rebecca took in her surroundings. He was, however, well on his way to knowing how to please me. He drew this wonderful bath for me, didn’t he? Seven lighted candles cast a relaxing glow on the water, making the bubbles shimmer. A fluffy white towel lay on the small table next to the claw-footed tub and a white robe, made of silk, hung on the back of the door.

A gift of an oval-shaped ebony hairbrush and hand mirror lay on a small table next to the tub. She picked up the brush and pulled it through her hair. She loved the way it felt in her hand; it had a solid, weighted feel to it, and she loved the way the bristles tamed her long, dark locks. No, she convinced herself; I’m sure Jarrod will be just as indulgent as father has been all my life.

A soft knock on the door startled her. She slid down in the water, hiding herself with bubbles, but then she relaxed, remembering she had locked the door.

“Just a moment, Jarrod dear, I’m not finished bathing.”

The door opened anyway and Rebecca starred at her new husband, her mouth slightly agape.

“I beg your pardon,” she exclaimed as she positioned her arms to shield her breasts from his lascivious view. “I said I’m not finished! Moreover, I locked that door! Do you not know the meaning of privacy?”

He held up a key in his hand.

“There will be no locked doors between us, Rebecca Louise.”

She didn’t know what to say at that declaration. He moved toward her; she slipped down in the water until it was up to her chin. He shook his head, smiling at her. He picked up the towel, opened it up, and held it that way.

“You’ve been in the tub long enough, my love. It is time to get out and go to bed.”

Rebecca had a discussion with herself. Part of her wanted to make his ears ring with a few well-chosen words. She had developed quite an arsenal of biting comments over the years intended to put an offending man in his place.

Yet, she had never been in a situation quite like this. Jarrod was her husband, after all, she had to keep reminding herself, not just another suitor vying for her affection at a dance.

He shook the towel, saying, “Come on, honey, before the water gets cold and you catch a chill.”

“Just put the towel down,” she instructed. I will get out when you leave.”

He shook the open towel and said in a no nonsense tone, “You’ll get out now. I’ll not ask you again, Rebecca.”

“Oh, very well,” she relented, miffed by his insistence. “Close your eyes.”

“No.”

“No! And why not? Seems like a simple enough request to me! Why do you insist on disregarding my desire for modesty, sir?”

“Because, beautiful, I am your husband. I have every right to drink in every inch of your gloriously naked, soapy, wet, body.”

Rebecca swallowed hard; she felt flush. She placed her hands on the side of the tub and lifted herself up; she stared at the wall in front of her, at the candlelight flickering there. She felt suds cascade down her body and into the water once she was standing and she felt Jarrod’s eyes roaming up and down her nude form.

Strong, warring emotions fought each other in her mind. She was shy about her nakedness in front of this man, her husband, yet she felt adored and utterly feminine. She was mad at not getting her way, yet, at the same time, she experienced a strange little thrill in submitting herself to his will.

He stepped closer to the tub and wrapped the towel around her; it just barely came to the top of her thighs. She grasped the ends of the towel at her neck to hold it closed and, with his aid, she stepped out of the tub.

“That’s my girl,” he crooned near her ear before he took a little portion of her earlobe in his mouth and bit it gently, making her shiver. He took the robe from the door and held it out for her. She clasped the towel with one hand, put her arm through the arm of the robe, and then switched to do the same on the other side.

“Now, I’ve got just a few more loose ends to tie up with work downstairs, but I will be on to bed soon.

He smiled, kissed his wife briefly, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

After Jarrod left, Rebecca stood in the little puddle that had formed at her feet when she exited the tub. She felt weak in the knees and her heart was pounding. Even though the room was chilly, growing warmth radiated from the core of her body.

Not accustomed to sexual desire, she misunderstood it, thinking she was just nervous over what happens in the marriage bed. She intended to bury herself under the covers of the bed and feign sleep—in the guest room, before her husband came back upstairs. This had all happened too quickly. She just wasn’t ready to consummate the marriage; he’d just have to understand.

After Jarrod had shut the door to the bathing room, he had to wait a moment before he could walk comfortably. He took a deep breath and tried to think of something other than his bride’s nakedness. It wasn’t easy. It had taken every once of discipline he possessed not to take her up against the wall, right where she stood; his desire was that strong. He headed downstairs after adjusting his pants because they were still too tight in certain places.

He knew Rebecca was nervous; he wasn’t sure what information she had about the physical relationship between husband and wife, seeing how she was raised without a mother or even sisters in the house. He determined he would maintain his discipline for her and take things slow. He smiled to himself over what was in store for her.

His spoiled bride didn’t know it yet, but tonight her husband was going to take her in hand, in more ways than one. He was going to light the fire of love in her, and the first place she would feel that fire, for her own good, was on her impertinent little backside.