“Lean your head back,” he ordered.
There was a curved spot in the obsidian rock of the tub. I rested my head there. His fingers—oh God, his fingers were there, right there between my legs. I could feel his hand grazing my skin, sending lightning bolts of desire through every nerve ending.
“Close your eyes.”
I obeyed, but I shifted uncomfortably in the water. “Why do you want my eyes closed?” I asked.
“It stretches your other senses,” Knox said. His hand moved back down to my knee, then up the other leg, only lightly touching my thigh. I shivered in the warm water, feeling myself clench involuntarily down there. He continued speaking, and now that my eyes were closed I could hear every nuance, every low rumble in his voice.
“As an artist, you spend all of your hours looking at things,
