She swallowed hard as her cries petered off. Relaxing her legs and back, her butt automatically dropped down into the water. Damien got a faceful of water and she laughed, feeling exhilarated, bubbly, light-headed. "Sorry, my legs are like rubber. I couldn't hold them anymore."
He shook the droplets off and smiled at her. "That was worth getting a little wet."
Not sure what to say, Marley pushed the heavy, moist hanks of hair off her forehead and smiled. She let her body float a little in the water as she watched him watch her. He was stroking her knee, looking lazy and content, his forearm resting on the edge of the tub.
"Let me get you a towel."
"Thank you. I'm starting to shrivel." Marley was contemplating how courageous she actually was. That orgasm had bolstered her, made her feel less self-conscious, but she wasn't sure she could just stand up naked and climb out of the deep tub. That required lifting her leg a good bit higher than could possibly be attractive.
Damien opened one of the walnut built-in cabinets and removed a thick fluffy towel and a terry cloth robe.
"This is a beautiful bathroom. It's like a spa in here."
"Complete with towel boy." He gave her a little bow and held the oversized buff-colored towel out to her.
Marley stood up and quickly grabbed the towel and wrapped herself in it so he couldn't see any personal parts. "You do that well, the bowing. I had no idea you could look so deferential. Or maybe it's more… lordly."
He bowed again, with a huge arm flourish. "If I can be of further assistance, I am yours to command, Mademoiselle. Otherwise, I will bid you bonne nuit."
That knocked the grin off her face as she struggled to slip the robe on over the towel. "You're leaving? You're not…" Going to put it in? was what she was thinking, but there was no way to say that without sounding tacky.
Damien shook his head. "No. Not tonight. That was all you needed."
She finally got the robe belted and yanked the towel out from the bottom, dragging it through the water before dropping it on the floor. "Oh." His frankness embarrassed her, but she also knew immediately he was right. She couldn't have handled any more at the moment. Sex would have been too intimate, too reaching, too emotional.
"Thank you."
"Pas de quoi." Damien took her hand and kissed the back of it.
"You're feeling very French tonight."
"Oui."
She laughed. "Do you really speak fluent French or are you just trying to impress me?"
"I learned French before English."
Marley stepped out of the tub, taking the hand that Damien offered to assist her. "You'll have to speak French sometime and make me swoon."
"Voulez-vous couchez avec moi?"
"Very funny." She rolled her eyes for effect, but his playfulness pleased her. It made her feel more comfortable with what he had just seen, what he had just done to her.
Damien laughed. "You seem to be the only person who ever finds me amusing."
Marley was touched by that and not sure why. But something about him spoke to her, went to places inside her soul he shouldn't, and she knew she was already slipping, already forgetting that she had to stay disconnected, that this was about freedom, not emotional entanglement.
"Maybe they don't see what I do." She lightly touched his chest, knowing she was too late. Just looking at him made her feel all gooey inside, an emotional hot fudge sundae.
His smile disappeared. He looked alarmed, and he grabbed her hand, pulled it down and away from him. "Or maybe you see what isn't there. Don't do it, Marley. Please don't."
"Don't what?"
"Feel sorry for me. Develop feelings for me. I can't return them."
She hadn't meant to go there, didn't want to ruin the evening by getting deep, but she couldn't resist asking, "Can't? Or won't?"
"Can't."
It wasn't a surprise, but it still pricked. "Okay. Duly noted. Now you can rest easy that I know the score. Whatever I do from here on out is with my eyes wide open."
Her assurances sounded defensive and she knew it.
Damien sighed. "Maybe this was a mistake."
The words sliced and burned, humiliated her. She was not some grasping, needy woman. She wasn't an obsessive stalker type imagining elaborate relationships that weren't there. Just because she liked him, and wanted to sleep with him, did not make her a risk to his perfectly structured world of superficial hedonism.
"Just leave, Damien. I'll see you tomorrow." Marley turned, scooping up the towel, staring hard at the tile floor as she tried to collect herself.
"I've upset you."
Um, hello? Give the man a gold star. "No, you've annoyed me, so go before I say something I'll truly regret."
He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it, which was a smart move on his part. If he said something stupid, she would be tempted to stuff the towel in his trap.
Instead, he just turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Marley sat on the edge of the tub and sighed.
Why did it feel like in trying to find her sister, she was slowly losing herself?
Rosa was sitting on his couch when Damien got back to the pigeonnier, angry with himself, frustrated with his body for wanting Marley, for throbbing and pulsing with the need to take her. And he was frightened, scared at the look he had seen in Marley's eyes, and even more terrified by the way he had wanted it there, how he had felt a strange tremor of an echoing feeling in his own chest.
That was an absolute catastrophe.
He glared at Rosa, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching a DVD on his portable player. "Go away. I need you here tonight like a f**king hole in my head."
"Nice hard-on." She glanced at his jeans. "Why do you torture yourself like this? I could hear her moaning from fifty feet away but you don't allow yourself to participate? You need counseling. You're going to burst or something."
He did feel like that with one false move his entire body explode, but so far he had a lid on it. The body he could handle, the heart he wasn't so damn sure about. "Then you'd better leave. You don't want to get hit when I go off."
Tossing the DVD player aside, Rosa stood up. She was wearing shorts and a blazer and she actually looked worried about him. If Damien didn't hate her for the lying, conniving demon she was, he'd be touched by her concern.
"Stop this, Damien. You're going to make yourself insane. Just let me help you." Her hand skimmed over his thigh.
"Help me how?" He knew what she meant and he was too exasperated to dance around it. "You think we should have sex? I think you say that about once a month."