Burned Deep (Burned 1)

But it wasn’t just the enticing heat caressing my skin that melted me. The scent was out of this world.

Keeping my eyes closed, as commanded—and because this little excursion was much more sensual that way—I asked, “What is that?”

“Frankincense.”

I gave a half laugh. “Now you’re teasing me because I’m twenty-four-seven Christmas decorations for the Lux.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. This particular scent reminded me of you.”

I inhaled deeply. There was a spicy tinge to it with a hint of orange. Definitely relaxing. Soothing. Delicious.

As Dane spread the rich oil across my back, he said, “This comes from the Oman region in the Persian Gulf. Known for their fragrances. There’s a woman who collects the resin from trees on Mughsayl Beach and mixes it with oils. Even sprinkles it on ice cream. It’s highly addictive for anyone with a sweet tooth—one bowl is never enough.”

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”

“Ari.” He didn’t sound amused.

“Just saying.”

“If you like this, you can keep the bottle,” he offered.

His hands smoothed over my body, his fingers firm and pressing into my muscles in the most sigh-worthy way. His thumbs ran along my spine as his palms splayed toward my sides. He rubbed down to my tailbone, moved back up to my shoulders, and then slowly slid down to my ass. He massaged expertly and I bit back a throaty moan.

He kneaded my cheeks, his thumbs digging into the point on the outer sides, midway. I had no idea what caused that spot to be so sensitive, but it was clearly a pressure point that not only seemed to release oodles of tension but was also erotically stirring. At least when Dane was the one unleashing the tension.

Then he spread the oil down the backs of my thighs, slowly returning to cover my hips and waist.

“Let me guess,” I ventured in my now-familiar sultry voice. “You’re a certified masseur.”

“Not even close. But you pick up a thing or two when you own hotels with spas.”

“Or it’s just natural talent.” Because he was fantastic.

“Really, it’s just an excuse to put my hands all over you.”

His palms slid around me, underneath me, to my stomach. Then eased upward to my chest. I rose slightly off the satin sheet to let him coat and caress my breasts.

“No excuse needed. Ever. I promise.”

“You have a sensational body. I told you that before, based on sight alone. Touching it, enjoying it, is something altogether different.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “You really can’t be this fascinated.”

With one of his intense looks, he said, “You really can’t doubt it.”

I tore my gaze from his. Dropped my forehead to the cool satin.

Dane continued his sensuous massage. The oil soaked into my skin, feeling luxurious and instantly combating the dryness that came with our usually arid climate. He rubbed my arms and shoulders and I let out a contented sigh. Though it held the undercurrent of desire.

When he reached underneath me again to palm my breasts, he whispered in my ear, “I’m hard for you.” His erection pressed to my hip.

“I noticed.” I tried to sound nonchalant. No such luck. My voice was breathy, lusty.

“Are you too tired? Too Zenned out?”

“I would have to be dead to not want you.” There I went. A bit too revealing.

I sighed with exasperation. He chuckled.