Was it her imagination, or did he hesitate a beat before answering? “You’re trying to deflect my attention from the subject at hand. I will worry about Mr. Lovelace’s ailing back later. Right now, my concern is you. Let me make amends, please.”
What was the point of resisting? Damn it, even though he made her nervous, she had to admit she wanted the massage. Not for sexual reasons, of course. It was just such a decadent pleasure, and Hunter promised to be good at it. And how could she turn down a free massage by a hot guy?
“All right, all right. You win. I lose.”
He laughed. “I hope you won’t feel like you’ve lost when I’m finished with you.”
“If I do, I’ll ask for my money back,” she teased.
“And I will, of course, refund every penny,” he promised in a mock-serious tone. “Now, when would you like to come?”
She shrugged. “I hadn’t given it any thought.”
“How about three o’clock?”
Apparently, he had given it some thought. No doubt he’d entered this debate certain he would win. The idea irked her. “How about four instead,” she said, not because she had any objection to three but because she wanted the illusion of being in control.
“Four it is. Wear loose, comfortable clothing that you don’t mind getting massage oil on.”
“Will do,” she agreed, even as heat filled her once more. Her skin felt a phantom touch of oiled hands, and she wondered if she’d just made a terrible mistake.
****
All was prepared, but that didn’t stop Hunter from taking yet another turn around the room, checking and rechecking. Yes, he had a relaxing CD in the stereo; yes, he had matches with which to light the scented candles; yes, he remembered the pattern of strokes he planned to use. No, he no longer had his knife up his sleeve.
Damn,he thought as he came to a stop in his pacing. He was nervous. He couldn’t remember feeling this way ever before. And all because he was going to have Kiera under his hands when he had no intention of making a move on her. He took a deep, steadying breath. It wouldn’t do to act nervous when she arrived. Which, if he had a read on her habits, she would do late. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost four.
Hunter slipped out of the massage room, prowling the apartment restlessly. He stopped in his bedroom in front of the full-length mirror that faced the bed. His nervousness still showed in his eyes, and he spent an anxious moment staring at himself in an effort to school his expression. The idea of spending more than an hour in Kiera’s presence without using his glamour, without even trying to seduce her, made him feel downright panicky. Never before had he realized how much of his life he spent acting a part; never before now, when he was determined to be himself.
What if Kiera didn’t like the real him?
The doorbell rang.
“Will you relax!” he snarled at his reflection when he saw what the sound of that bell had done to his face. The doorbell rang a second time before he reached the door.
Hunter took a deep, steadying breath before opening the door, then put on a practiced smile before remembering he was trying to be himself. When he saw Kiera standing there, the smile almost died. She looked as nervous as he felt, her smile failing to reach her eyes, and he felt instantly guilty that he was putting her through this ordeal.
Getting a massage is not an ordeal, he reminded himself as he firmed up his smile. “Come in, come in,” he said, stepping back and opening the door wider. He saw her swallow hard before she stepped into the room. Between the two of them, they could probably fuel an adrenaline factory for a week. He needed to lighten the mood immediately, so he tried for a little humor.
He glanced at his watch. “You’re right on time. I wasn’t expecting you for at least another ten minutes.”
She gave him a dirty look, but the jest seemed to break the ice, and she looked a little less tense. “Well, they usually tell you to arrive at least ten minutes early to fill out all the paperwork.”
“That explains it, then.” He reached out and put his hand lightly on her arm. “Come, let me show you to my office.”
She tensed again ever so slightly at his touch. “What about the paperwork?”
His research had failed to turn up the fact that there was any paperwork involved, but he figured he could bluff his way through this easily enough. He grinned. “I’m not officially open for business yet, remember? And this is a freebie. So, no paperwork required.” Yes, he was being himself, all right—lying through his teeth. Hunter shoved the thought aside.
She allowed him to guide her back to the massage room, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the frown that creased her brow. He’d never met anyone quite so suspicious before. Either he wasn’t as smooth a liar as he thought, or her instincts were just too canny to be fooled.
He thought her suspicions went down a notch when she stepped into the massage room, which he knew looked highly professional. Money had been no object, so he had ordered only the best equipment, and he had looked at plenty of pictures from the most elegant and expensive spas from around the world.
The lights were low, giving the room a tranquil atmosphere without making it feel dim or gloomy. A tall indoor fountain bubbled gently against one wall, and his cart of lotions and oils stood amidst lush potted ferns.
Hunter gave her a moment to look around while he lit the scented candles that flanked the doorway in simple wall sconces. The scent of sulfur and smoke momentarily marred the atmosphere, and he reminded himself to use a lighter instead of matches if he ever did this again.
Kiera was rubbing her hands absently against the legs of her wide-leg knit pants, and he wondered if her palms were sweating. His certainly were. Feigning assurance, he stepped up to the massage table and folded back the sheets.
“I’ll leave you for a couple of moments,” he said, then paused to clear his throat when he heard how husky his voice came out. “I’ll start you off face down.” He forced another smile. “If your back is anywhere near as tight today as it was before, it’ll need lots of extra attention. You can, uh, leave your underwear on or take it off, whichever makes you more comfortable.”
She fixed him with a stare that did funny things to his insides, but he met her eyes as innocently as possible. That was the standard spiel. Nothing sexual about it. But the idea of her lying entirely naked beneath that sheet . . . Better not to think about it. He’d purposely worn a pair of blue jeans—not the most standard of massage attire—because the heavy denim would help hide the arousal he’d been certain he would feel. However, denim could only do so much.
He cleared his throat once more. “I’ll knock before I come in,” he finished, then slipped out of the room quickly before he embarrassed himself any further.
He needed to pull himself together and fast. The plan was to make her feel less threatened by him while at the same time getting her to associate him with things sensual. To do that, he’d have to keep at least a bit of professional distance. It wouldn’t do to have a hard-on the entire time he was in the room with her. He closed his eyes and focused on the punishment he’d suffered at Bane’s hands. That had been nothing but a wrist slap compared to what awaited him should he fail the larger mission.
The reminder wilted him immediately and he opened his eyes. Not the most pleasant way to rein in his lust, but it was effective.
Marginally more prepared, he knocked softly on the door to the massage room. After a brief hesitation, Kiera gave him permission to enter.
She’d managed to pull the sheet all the way up to her neck—a difficult feat when lying on her stomach. Her head was turned toward the doorway in what must have been an uncomfortable position, but she was obviously too uneasy to bury her face in the face cradle yet. He gave her his most reassuring smile, coming to stand beside the table.
“Warm enough?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, then. Go ahead and put your face in the cradle.”
The sheet rose and fell
with her deep breath, but she turned her head and wriggled until she was comfortable. Hunter took a deep breath himself as he folded back the sheet to reveal the smooth, creamy expanse of her back. His cock twitched, and he drew in another breath, drawing the sheet farther down to reveal the first swell of her hips. He stopped when he caught a glimpse of the elastic waistband of her panties. What a surprise, she had kept them on. And they reached practically to her waist. Did she usually wear granny panties, or were these just for him?
He tucked the sheet into the waistband of her panties and drew them a little lower down her hips. He saw the muscles in her back clench, but he chose not to acknowledge her tension. Lowering them was perfectly acceptable, for they would get in the way when he worked on her lower back. There was nothing sexual in it whatsoever.
Hunter couldn’t help the little smile that curved his lips. He wondered how many times he would repeat that little refrain before this hour was up.
He flipped on the stereo, and the soft, vague strains of New Age violins joined the burble of the fountain. He squirted massage oil onto his hands and rubbed them together to warm it.
When his hands first touched her back, both of them tensed. The feel of her against his palms sent an arrow of desire from his hands through his arms to his groin. By the time he’d finished the first broad stroke, he was fully erect and Kiera was even more tense than she’d been when she walked in.
Ignoring as best he could the throbbing in his groin, Hunter closed his eyes and concentrated on what he’d learned about massage, concentrated on keeping the pressure from his hands firm and even, concentrated on keeping the strokes slow and unhurried.
Somewhere along the way, Kiera’s muscles began to respond, the tension draining out of them drop by drop until she was completely pliant beneath his hands. He risked opening his eyes and was pleased to discover his lust had calmed from a rolling boil to a gentle—and not unpleasant—simmer. He changed from the broad strokes that covered her entire back into a more focused stroke that concentrated on the tightness of her shoulders. It didn’t take long for him to find isolated spots that felt strangely harder than the rest of her muscles and he worked each until it softened and relaxed. He didn’t need to ask if the pressure was too much; she had gone so limp he was certain he wasn’t hurting her.
When he could no longer find those hard little bumps in her shoulders, he worked his way down her arms, strokes taking him all the way to the tips of her fingers. He noticed how smooth and soft her skin was, realized it wasn’t just because of the massage oil.
Hunter pulled the sheet back up and tucked it under her shoulders, going to work next on her legs. She was so relaxed he wondered if she might have fallen asleep. He had a harder time keeping himself under control while his hands worked her thighs, constantly aware of the desire to keep his hands moving upward. By the time he was done, his jeans had become unbearably tight and he knew he couldn’t risk letting her see him. He improvised and worked on her feet a little longer until his arousal wasn’t so excruciating.
When he held the sheet up and asked her to turn over, it seemed as though she could barely move. Her eyes were closed, her lips slack. Any suspicions she might have had were gone, and she lay before him in a state of total trust. His throat tightened. How he wished he deserved that trust. How he wished he were something other than his mother’s son. What would it be like to be a free, mortal man, able to pursue any woman he wished? What would it be like to get to know Kiera just because he wanted to, with no ulterior motive?
With a regretful sigh, he allowed his hands to slide off her skin. There was no use indulging in fantasies of freedom. Thanks to his mother, Kiera would be forever out of his reach, and thinking about what might have been would only make reality hurt more.
“Take your time getting up,” he whispered. “Come on out when you’re ready.”
He slipped out the door, filled with a strange yearning that had nothing to do with the desires of the flesh.
****
Kiera felt like a lump of putty. When Hunter had first put his hands on her, she’d practically jumped off the table she’d been so tense. Now, it seemed it would take more will than she had simply to sit up. With a groan, she propped herself up on her elbows. She breathed deep, taking in the vanilla scent of the candles, and, under that, Hunter’s spicy scent. A smile crept over her lips.
Eventually, she managed to get to her feet and get dressed, though every movement was slow and languid. She’d felt relaxed after her previous massages; after this one, she felt boneless and sated. Hunter clearly knew what he was doing. God, what talented hands!
Hunter was waiting for her in the living room. At first, he didn’t seem to hear her enter, so she stood silent for a moment, observing him. He sat on a very masculine brown leather couch, his booted feet propped on the glossy mahogany coffee table. His hands—those wonderful, warm, strong hands—were folded across his abdomen, and his head rested against the back of the couch, his hair fanned out around him in a dark halo. His eyes were open, staring fixedly at the ceiling. When she followed his gaze, she noticed a small hole in the ceiling, but there was nothing about it that seemed to warrant such attention.
Either she made a noise, or Hunter finally sensed he was not alone, for he raised his head and swung his feet off the coffee table. For the first moment she caught his eyes, she saw something haunted—and hunted—in them, but he hid the expression before she could be certain it wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.
“Wow,” he said, smiling warmly at her. “I think your shoulders are sitting about six inches lower than they were when you came in.”
She returned his smile. “Okay, even I have to admit you did good. I feel like an overcooked noodle.”
“Well come sit down a moment.” He indicated a tall glass sweating on a coaster. “You need to drink lots of water to flush out the toxins. Might as well start now.”
She hesitated, worrying that if she stayed she would shatter the tenuous peace that seemed to have taken hold. But somehow, it seemed too much effort to remain worried about his intentions when she felt so good, so she fell heavily onto the couch beside him. She took a couple long swallows of water, noticing as she did so that her nerves weren’t jangling the way they usually did when Hunter was close. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He looked much more relaxed himself. Maybe even more . . . human.
Kiera shook off that thought, remembering reluctantly her mother’s crazy ideas and the horseshoe. All so ridiculous, really. Hunter was just a man. Full of contradictions and complexity, perhaps, but a man nonetheless.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, startling her.
She took another sip of water, considering the wisdom of answering him with any kind of honesty. She turned toward him on the couch, propping her head on her hand. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”
He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what conclusions have you reached?”
“That’s just the thing: I’m failing miserably. You don’t have multiple personality disorder or anything, do you?”
A short bark of laughter escaped him. “Not that I know of.” He moved a little closer to her, turning his body so that he was facing her. “Tell me what you’re trying to figure out. Maybe I can help.”
She was momentarily tempted to laugh, but he looked like he was serious, so she put some thought into it. “Well, I have to admit you just gave me a wonderful massage. But I’m still having trouble reconciling with the idea that you do it for a living.”
“Why? Still based on the stereotype?”
She shrugged. “I think it’s more than that.” She bit her lip and wondered whether she dared say any more. She was already being pretty damn rude, considering he’d just given her a free sample of his services. But his face looked open and friendly, and she was so curious about him she couldn’t resist. “For one thing, I don’t think massage therapists usually make the kind of money it would take to dress the way you d
o—or to furnish an apartment quite so elegantly.”
He nodded in acknowledgment, his face grave. “That’s true. You have caught me out in my secret.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The drugs are where the real money comes from.”
He looked so serious that for a fraction of a second, she thought he might actually mean it. Then she saw the glint in his eye and she gave him a mock glare. “Very funny,” she said, reaching behind her and grabbing the throw pillow propped in the corner of the couch.
Hunter was about to respond when she whipped the pillow around and tried to bop him in the head with it. He moved with incredible speed, one arm blocking the blow while his other hand darted out to fasten on her wrist. It all happened so fast she could barely comprehend it. Their gazes locked as he held her wrist in a firm grip and plucked the pillow from her fingers with his other hand.
Kiera was shocked at herself, amazed she’d had the gall to try to hit this man she barely knew with a pillow, that she’d gone from being so rigid and guarded with him to acting like he was a close friend. She was even more shocked by his swift reaction. When he’d seen the blow coming, he’d reacted like he was trying to prevent a death-blow, his eyes hardening and all signs of humor fading. Even so, when he’d caught her wrist, his fingers had been firm but gentle, belying the ferocity of his expression.
Heat crawled up Kiera’s cheeks as they stared at one another, her wrist still trapped in his fingers. She didn’t know how she could possibly apologize for the over-familiarity, but she had to try. “I don’t know what came over me,” she said, shaking her head and trying to extricate her wrist from his grip.
He didn’t let go, although he lowered their hands to the couch. He no longer looked so fierce, his lips now quirked into something approaching a smile, but there was still a strange intensity to his gaze. “You don’t have to apologize. It was a bad joke.” His thumb moved in a slow circle against the skin on the underside of her wrist. She wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it. “I had it coming.”