“The one after this is mine,” he explained, gesturing ahead.
“The next one?” I asked as we passed by the dark windows facing the patio. “Then who lives here?”
“People.” He shrugged, carelessly.
“Do you know them?”
“Nope. We’ve never met.”
“But they don’t mind you walking through their property like this?”
“So far, no one’s complained.” He climbed over the railing onto the ledge of the next building then helped me do the same.
“Well, this is home.” Zeph lifted open the frame of a large bay window, positioned right under the roof. “Come in.”
I followed him through the window then stepped around a huge oval bathtub inside.
“Is this your bathroom?”
“No.” He turned on the water in the tub then flicked on the light. It illuminated a spacious room, tastefully decorated in light grey and breezy blue.
This appeared to be a studio apartment. A couch stood in the middle with a TV set mounted in front of it. A few tall bookshelves lined the walls. Partially hidden behind a painted-silk screen, a large bed stood to the side.
“You have a bathtub in your living space,” I stated, a bit confused but not overly so. With much of the architecture in this city being there for centuries, some of the more modern elements had often been added in unconventional ways over time.
“Yes,” he replied simply, as if used to being asked this question, then headed to the kitchenette in a niche to the left.
“A glass of Champagne?” he asked, taking a bottle from the small fridge under the counter and a couple of champagne flutes from the cabinet above it. “Sorry, this one hasn’t been anywhere near strawberries.” He glanced at the label. “Just good, old Moët.”
“Thank you.” I accepted the glass from him.
His fingers brushed mine when he handed me the flute. Anticipation fizzed through me like the bubbles in the glass.
The one time I’d been with a man hadn’t left me with a great opinion about sex. I preferred my own hand to anything my one and only sex partner had had to offer. He’d never made me light up with anticipation by merely touching my fingers with his the way Zeph just did.
There was something extremely sensual about Zeph that my body responded to.
It was in the way he moved, with almost feline grace and confidence.
In the way he looked at me from under the strands of his silvery white hair. How the color of his eyes changed from the lightest blue to a rich turquoise, depending on his mood and the lighting in the room.
In the way he talked with that crooked grin of his—teasing, warm, and playful all at once.
And definitely in the way he sang. The moment I’d heard him sing destined me to end this night in his arms. His voice had tethered me to him, stronger than any chain.
Zeph placed his wine glass on the wooden bench that stood between the tub and the window. A stack of blue fluffy towels lay on the other end of the bench next to a few toiletries. After pouring into the tub something from one of the bottles, he started unbuttoning his shirt.
“What did you just add to the water?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the fact that he seemed to be getting ready to take a bath, that very moment...and that the tub was large enough for both of us to fit in comfortably.
“Sea foam.” He slid the shirt from his shoulders, then tossed it on the grey rug on the pale-wood floor. “At least that’s what the label says it’s supposed to smell like.”
“Is it a bubble bath?”
“Yes.” He unbuckled his belt then slid the zipper open. “Do you like bubble baths?” He shoved his dress pants down, taking the underwear with them.
“Sure.” I quickly averted my eyes to the dark window and took a large sip from the glass in my hand to steady my nerves.
My attention did not stay on the window for too long, though, drawn back to Zeph’s tall, muscular body.
He had the figure of a swimmer, with long strong legs. Wide in the shoulders, his torso tapered elegantly to a narrow waist and trim hips.
The lightning speed with which he’d undressed, left me unprepared and slightly anxious. I breathed faster, suddenly finding myself one on one with a completely naked Zeph. The sight of him filled me with lightheaded excitement.
He turned around, stepping into the tub. The scars on his arms came into view. A much longer one ran along his spine from his neck down between the two dimples on his lower back. A pair of matching silvery stripes were visible on his calves.
“What happened?” I took a step closer, momentarily forgetting about the tension of attraction sizzling in the air. “Your scars?” I explained when he glanced at me over his shoulder. “Scars like that, I imagine, would come with a story.”
I really wanted to hear it if there was one. In fact, I wished to know everything about him—more than could be learned in just one night, I realized.
“There is no story.” He stood in the tub. “I just...was born like this.”
A kind of skin depigmentation, possibly?
The pale lines on his body appeared to be too straight and perfect for birth marks, as if made by man, not nature. I didn’t press for more, though, as he didn’t add anything on the subject.
Instead, he offered me his hand, inviting me to join him, “Come?”
All thoughts immediately scrambled in my head, my focus shifting entirely to what was about to come. Despite the nervous apprehension, I wanted to be close to him again.
With a brief nod, I handed him my glass, and he set it down on the bench next to his while I took off my top over my head. I was glad I wore a pretty bra and panty set that day—white lace with cute pink polka dots.
The lingerie didn’t stay on for long, though. I took the bra off, feeling Zeph’s gaze on my skin. My nipples hardened with the awareness of him staring at me, although I stubbornly kept my eyes focused on the grey rug.
Next, I shimmied out of my shorts and panties and rolled my fishnet stockings down, finally stepping out of my crystal-studded flats.
Drawing some air in, I raised my gaze to his, realizing that my apprehension had nothing to do with doubt—I had none. I wanted to be with him. If his kisses were anything to go by, the night with him promised to be one I would never forget.
What worried me was my own inexperience. I was afraid I’d do or say something that would make it painfully apparent.
“Come,” he repeated, holding out his hand.
His warm, easy smile was encouraging, holding my gaze. Using his hand for support, I stepped into the bath. The soapy water rising above my ankles, the bubbles caressed my skin.
Zeph released a long breath. Hands on the edge of the tub, he lowered his body into the water. I carefully crouched down, too, aiming for the opposite end of the tub, but he caught me around my waist and placed me between his spread legs, my back to his chest.
“This is good,” he said in an unusually somber tone.
The water kept rising, enclosing us in a warm cloud of bubbles.
“During the day,” Zeph said above my ear, gesturing at the huge bay window that was now straight ahead of us. “When the sky is blue, with not too many clouds out there, I can almost pretend I’m looking out to sea.”
“Do you like big water?” I asked, leaning my head on his shoulder. He was right, sitting like this and talking definitely felt good.