Dream of Me/Believe in Me

different tastes in women.”
    Cymbra thought that over. She had very little knowledge of men and their tastes. She knew only that every man she'd ever known, with the sole exception of her brother, stuttered and stammered through their dealings with her—when they were capable of speech at all. Not even old Brother Chilton had been immune.
    She hated being set apart and treated so differently, made so continually aware of how she looked and theeffect it had on people. She had wanted so very badly to be ordinary
    And now she was? At least to this man?
    She looked at him narrowly trying to sense any duplicity but he merely returned her gaze innocently and gestured again toward the pool. “It's getting late. I would like to get back to the beach sometime tonight.”
    Cymbra flushed hotly. Moments before, she had stood beneath his hand, riveted by pleasure so intense as to make her cry out. And now he was telling her very plainly that she was nothing more to him than a nuisance.
    Fine. At least she would be a clean nuisance.
    Her nerve almost failed her when she reached the rim of the pool, but she kept her back to Wolf, took a deep breath, dropped the ermine cloak, and plunged into the water. The shock of it made her yelp.
    “Are you all right?” Not waiting for an answer, he was already coming toward her.
    Quickly she held up a hand to fend him off. “I'm fine; it's just a little hot.”
    More than a little, but after the initial shock, the heat seeping through her was incredibly relaxing. She felt the strain of the days at sea, with all the attendant fear about her fate, melting away.
    Delighted, and considerably more confident since she'd noted that the mineral-laden froth of the water effectively concealed her, she laughed.
    “This is wonderful. I'd heard about baths like this but never experienced one before.” With a happy smile, she reached out for the soap beside the pool and began to lather it over her bare arms and shoulders.
    Wolf stifled a groan. The glimpse he'd had of her slender, tapered back, high, rounded buttocks, and glorious legs just visible behind the swaying curtain of her magnificent hair had pushed him right over the edge. Hewas achingly hard, his blood pounding hot and thick, his body demanding relief.
    He flopped back down on the ground, stared at the thick bulge in his trousers, and muttered, “Stay down, you damn fool.”
    “What's that?” Cymbra called.
    Wolf rolled over, wincing as he did so, but he forced himself to smile. A man stupid enough to let a woman know her power over him might as well put his cock on a leash and invite her to lead him about by it.
    “Nothing.” Taking deep breaths between his teeth, he silently berated his joyfully heedless member, that part of him disconnected from all thought, reason, and common sense.
    When no amount of reprimand had the slightest effect, he forced himself to focus on the most mundane, boring thoughts he could muster—recalling the tedious, seemingly endless merchant accounts he had to go over periodically, going down them item by item, summoning mind-numbing detail until slowly, resentfully, his body quieted.
    Only then did he look at Cymbra again. She had finished washing her hair and was preparing to leave the pool. Wolf silently blessed the impulse that had made him bring along a drying cloth for her even when he was tempted to leave it behind. Rather than risk yet more humiliation, he averted his gaze while she emerged, dried off quickly, and wrapped the ermine cloak around her.
    “I'm done,” she said softly. “Thank you. It was wonderful.”
    “I'm glad you liked it,” Wolf muttered. Never mind the agony of frustration he suffered, she'd had a nice bath. There had to be some fairness in this. At the very least, he could damn well get clean.
    “Sit down,” he said. When she looked puzzled, he stood and stripped off his tunic. “It's my turn.”
    Cymbra's eyes opened very wide. In the dim twilight he couldn't be absolutely sure but he thought she blushed. Good, she deserved to be discomfited. Her calm, serene air was immensely annoying to him. He wanted her as hot and straining, as mindless and needful as she had made him. But he wasn't going to get it, not now at least, not if his plan was to work as smoothly as he wished.
    “I'll go back to the beach,” she said, turning to do so.
    “Sit down,” he repeated implacably. To his astonishment, he added, “It's getting dark. You could trip and fall, or lose your