after all, that night
at the ranch. But now he was holding back. I’d catch him watching
me, a pained expression on his face. Sometimes he seemed his old
self, teasing me and joking around. But then he’d catch himself and
stop, as if remembering that he needed to be more careful. Like I was
fine, delicate china, the kind you only used on special occasions for
fear it would break. I wanted him to use me every day.
I sat down at the
kitchen counter and started toying with a brochure laying there. It
was something from his company, a glossy portfolio showcasing some of
his luxury properties. The kind of thing you’d give a potential
client or investor. I traced the letterhead: Obsidian Investors.
He’d named his
company after something I’d said one night, a bit of rock I’d
found and given to him. I’d teased him that his heart was cold and
dark. That had never been true, not then and sure as hell not now. I
always knew he had this side to him, romantic, caring, loving. And
he’d named his company after something I’d said one night six
years ago. I’d been with him all along. The man blew me away.
But he was, literally,
blowing me off. How much walking around in a skimpy, silky gown could
a girl do before she gave up? At least one more time, that’s how
much. And this time, I’d get more direct.
I found Declan in the
bedroom sitting in a chair, leaving a message for his lawyer on his
phone. I walked around behind him, brought my hands to his shoulders
and massaged, kneading my fingers into the hard wall of his muscles.
“Unh,” he groaned,
putting his phone down. I loved the sound, the look of him with his
eyes closed in pleasure. The feel of him, his massive shoulders, his
broad back, had my whole body tingling with anticipation. He felt so
tense, as if he’d been holding himself stiff for all of the past
week. He needed to unwind.
He turned around and
lightly grasped my hands in his own. “I should be massaging you,
not the other way around.”
OK, then. I didn’t
know if he meant the offer for real or not, but I decided to take him
up on it. Smiling at him shyly, I reached up to the tie around my
waist and with a pull, unbound the knot. He watched me, heavy-lidded,
as if he couldn’t take his eyes off. I brought my hands to my
lapels, enjoying this now, feeling his reaction, his need. I drew my
fingers down the sides of the robe, down the swell of my breasts.
Then I parted the robe and let it drop in a pool of silk at my feet.
He sucked in his
breath. I stood there, completely naked, letting him see all of me.
His eyes burned with palpable hunger, yet still he sat in the chair,
his hands balled into tight fists. He was working so hard to hold
himself back. He just needed me to let him know how very much I
wanted him to let himself go. A massage, that would be a good excuse
for him to touch me. He could justify it to himself as a soothing,
healing gesture. I’d just have to seduce him into making it more.
“I’d love a
massage,” I murmured, running my hands up and down my arms. My
breasts thrust out, completely bare, my nipples peaking for him under
his heavy gaze. I could see his jaw set hard, his throat tense as he
swallowed.
I lay down on the bed,
stomach down, my back, thighs and ass naked and splayed there for his
pleasure. He paused and I could almost feel the tension, sense the
war waging within him. But then he took a step toward the bed. I
smiled into the pillow.
With slow, strong hands
he worked me. Taking his time, he rubbed and kneaded every inch of my
body, down my arms and along my hands and up to my shoulders. He
devoted a long time to my feet. He caressed and stroked and he might
have thought he was helping me relax, but really it was driving me
wild. Who knew the arch of my foot could feel sexy? That he could run
his fingers along it and make me think about how it would feel if it
were his tongue? Ankles? Come on, since when did they become an
erogenous zone? Yet his hands
at the ranch. But now he was holding back. I’d catch him watching
me, a pained expression on his face. Sometimes he seemed his old
self, teasing me and joking around. But then he’d catch himself and
stop, as if remembering that he needed to be more careful. Like I was
fine, delicate china, the kind you only used on special occasions for
fear it would break. I wanted him to use me every day.
I sat down at the
kitchen counter and started toying with a brochure laying there. It
was something from his company, a glossy portfolio showcasing some of
his luxury properties. The kind of thing you’d give a potential
client or investor. I traced the letterhead: Obsidian Investors.
He’d named his
company after something I’d said one night, a bit of rock I’d
found and given to him. I’d teased him that his heart was cold and
dark. That had never been true, not then and sure as hell not now. I
always knew he had this side to him, romantic, caring, loving. And
he’d named his company after something I’d said one night six
years ago. I’d been with him all along. The man blew me away.
But he was, literally,
blowing me off. How much walking around in a skimpy, silky gown could
a girl do before she gave up? At least one more time, that’s how
much. And this time, I’d get more direct.
I found Declan in the
bedroom sitting in a chair, leaving a message for his lawyer on his
phone. I walked around behind him, brought my hands to his shoulders
and massaged, kneading my fingers into the hard wall of his muscles.
“Unh,” he groaned,
putting his phone down. I loved the sound, the look of him with his
eyes closed in pleasure. The feel of him, his massive shoulders, his
broad back, had my whole body tingling with anticipation. He felt so
tense, as if he’d been holding himself stiff for all of the past
week. He needed to unwind.
He turned around and
lightly grasped my hands in his own. “I should be massaging you,
not the other way around.”
OK, then. I didn’t
know if he meant the offer for real or not, but I decided to take him
up on it. Smiling at him shyly, I reached up to the tie around my
waist and with a pull, unbound the knot. He watched me, heavy-lidded,
as if he couldn’t take his eyes off. I brought my hands to my
lapels, enjoying this now, feeling his reaction, his need. I drew my
fingers down the sides of the robe, down the swell of my breasts.
Then I parted the robe and let it drop in a pool of silk at my feet.
He sucked in his
breath. I stood there, completely naked, letting him see all of me.
His eyes burned with palpable hunger, yet still he sat in the chair,
his hands balled into tight fists. He was working so hard to hold
himself back. He just needed me to let him know how very much I
wanted him to let himself go. A massage, that would be a good excuse
for him to touch me. He could justify it to himself as a soothing,
healing gesture. I’d just have to seduce him into making it more.
“I’d love a
massage,” I murmured, running my hands up and down my arms. My
breasts thrust out, completely bare, my nipples peaking for him under
his heavy gaze. I could see his jaw set hard, his throat tense as he
swallowed.
I lay down on the bed,
stomach down, my back, thighs and ass naked and splayed there for his
pleasure. He paused and I could almost feel the tension, sense the
war waging within him. But then he took a step toward the bed. I
smiled into the pillow.
With slow, strong hands
he worked me. Taking his time, he rubbed and kneaded every inch of my
body, down my arms and along my hands and up to my shoulders. He
devoted a long time to my feet. He caressed and stroked and he might
have thought he was helping me relax, but really it was driving me
wild. Who knew the arch of my foot could feel sexy? That he could run
his fingers along it and make me think about how it would feel if it
were his tongue? Ankles? Come on, since when did they become an
erogenous zone? Yet his hands
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