Teasing Her Seal

She twisted around, her fingers pressing against her back. The sheet slipped. “Lie down.”

He resisted the urge to smack her butt. She was as tough as any drill sergeant he’d met at BUD/S but more than twice as pretty. She had that working in her favor. Levi laughed silently from across the pool, and Gray flashed him the bird, grabbing a glass flask of oil from the cart beside the bed. Cardamom and jasmine oil, per Her Royal Highness’s orders. He poured it into his hand, warming the slick stream.

“I’ll show you.” She twisted on the bed again.

“Down,” he gritted out. Were ropes allowed in commercial massages? A gag seemed like a useful option, as well. Before she could squirm away from him, he spread the oil over her shoulders. She had the palest skin, dotted with freckles but no swimsuit lines. He reminded himself that skin was just skin. It covered bones and muscles. He’d never thought about it before, but damn, she felt special.

The instant connection he felt when he touched her was unexpected. She sucked in a breath as if she maybe felt it, too. At least he’d shut her up for the moment. Yeah. He was a horny bastard, because he immediately started thinking about other ways to make her hold still. Make her come.

He drew his hands down her back in sweeping strokes, working out the visible tension in her neck and shoulders. He was no expert, but her back was a mess of knots. What the hell had she been doing? She was a woman on a tropical island. She was supposed to relax. He rubbed his thumbs in small circles, working out a particularly hard knot.

She whimpered, a breathy bedroom sound he’d bet she didn’t know she was making. Better yet, she’d finally stopped issuing directions. He didn’t dare imagine whether she’d stripped off completely beneath the towel or if she had on just a pair of panties because he was already hard. He’d gone undercover in the worst biker bars in California, fought hard, ridden fast. A massage should have been easy, but he’d never been so hot for a woman before.

She turned her head and muttered something. He didn’t give a damn what it was.

He pressed his finger against her lips. “Not one word.”

“Or...?” Sweet challenge filled her voice and, yeah, he wanted to show her. Instead, he worked his way down the straight line of her spine, headed for her ass.

“I have my ways.” He sounded like a bad villain. He might as well have rolled over and showed his belly, because she ignored his answer and started talking again, directing him from one muscle group to the other so matter-of-factly that she probably didn’t even realize she was doing it. Laney Parker was definitely a woman who was used to being in control. He recognized her need because he felt the same way. But one of them had to give and it sure wasn’t going to be him.

“We need to be clear on one thing.” He leaned forward, so his mouth was level with her ear. “I’m in charge.”

* * *

GRAY HAD MAGIC HANDS. Laney should have gone for sixty or even the full ninety minutes instead of the paltry thirty minutes she’d ponied up for. He was that good.

“You’re tight here.” He pressed a particularly tense spot on her back, and she stopped caring that she was stretched out, bare-ass naked and vulnerable. God, he was good.

“Trigger point.” Not, apparently, that she needed to tell him. The man knew what he was doing.

“Are you a doctor?”

“Trauma surgeon.” Was that sultry whisper her voice? Because, if so, Gray was definitely a miracle worker. She felt herself melting under his touch and, wow, how long had it been since she’d done that?

He found and pressed against another knot. “So I should call you Dr. Parker.”

He moved around to the front of the massage bed. The bed had one of those circle doughnut things that she’d always thought were awkward. She opened her eyes as Gray’s feet moved into view. She’d never had a foot fetish before, but he was barefoot, and his feet were sun-bronzed and strong-looking. Those few inches of bare skin made her want to see more. She’d bet the rest of him was every bit as spectacular.

It was probably bad she found his feet sexy. He was just doing a job.

Really, really well.

He gently pulled her ponytail free before running his hands through her hair, pressing his fingertips against her scalp. Maybe she’d been a cat in a former life, because she’d always loved having her hair played with. For long minutes, Gray rubbed small sensual circles against her scalp. She bit back a moan. Just lie here. Keep still. She probably wasn’t supposed to arch off the table, screaming more, more, more. Although she could. She definitely could.

He moved closer, his thighs brushing against the bed. If she lifted her head, the situation could get awkward fast. Thinking about that made her stiffen up again, but then he cupped the back of her neck, pressing and rotating. And oh, sweet baby Jesus, she could feel the tension melting away. The small tugs on her hair sent a prickle of excitement through her entire body.