Serenity (Inevitable Book 5)

by Janet Nissenson

  Matthew grinned enthusiastically. “I’ve got about a dozen different varieties, actually. They’re, uh, for you. Not that I expected this to happen,” he explained anxiously. “I just thought you might have wanted a cup after the massage.”

  “That was really sweet of you,” she assured him, cupping his cheek in her hand. “And speaking of the massage, we need to talk about that for a minute. Given what just happened here, there’s no possible way we can continue to have both a professional and a personal relationship. That is, assuming you want to continue to have a personal relationship with me.”

  “God, yes!” he was quick to exclaim. “I mean, you aren’t seeing anyone else at the moment, are you?”

  “No.” She hesitated a moment before explaining, “I don’t really do relationships per se, I’m not sure I really know how to. But I do like you, Matthew. A lot. And I like the idea of spending time with you, getting to know you better. I have no idea how long it will last, or where it’s going to go, but I’m open to figuring that out. However,” she added a bit sternly, “I can’t continue to have you as a client and a lover at the same time. So this is how it’s going to go. One, I either refer you to another massage therapist - and I know several who’d do a great job for you. Or, two, I can continue to do your massages but only here in your home. And without any sort of payment. There’s no possible way I can ever take money from you again. Including tonight’s appointment.”

  Matthew frowned. “But that hardly seems fair. I mean, you’d be out the income for that ninety minutes you’d be spending on me each time.”

  She shrugged. “I can afford it. Otherwise, if it bothers you that much, you can use another masseuse.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You’re by far the best masseuse I’ve ever had. I don’t want anyone else. So, fine. We’ll do it your way.” He waggled his eyebrows at her lasciviously. “I’ll just have to think of some inventive ways of paying you back. Now, what’s your decision about spending the night? Yes or no?”

  Sasha glanced at the huge, king-sized bed and the ultra-lux Egyptian cotton sheets longingly. Her own, much smaller bed back in her room was nowhere near as comfortable, and much lonelier to boot. But it had been a long time since she’d spent the entire night with a man, and her long-honed tendencies to shy away from commitment were tough to break.

  “I don’t know, Matthew,” she fretted. “It might be a little too soon for that. Everything is happening so fast.”

  But he was evidently too stubborn to give up without a fight. He took her by the hand and urged her along with him until they were standing in the doorway of his en-suite bathroom.

  “Remember you told me that I should buy those bath salts? The ones you swore would relieve my stress?” he inquired.

  Sasha nodded. “The ones with lavender and clary sage? What about them?”

  He pressed a switch, turning on the muted overhead lighting. “What say we try them out?”

  She gasped audibly at her first sight of the enormous whirlpool bathtub, more than large enough for two people, and so tempting that she heaved a little sigh of surrender, giving him a mock glare.

  “You can play dirty at times, can’t you?” she scolded. “You knew somehow that I wouldn’t be able to resist the thought of soaking in this tub. Fine. You win. I’ll stay the night. Though I might fall asleep in that tub.”

  Matthew came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he nuzzled the side of her neck. “You can sleep wherever you like,” he murmured seductively. “Just as long as it’s next to me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Early November

  Matthew resisted the urge to run his hand along the gentle curve of Sasha’s bare hip as she continued to doze lightly. In the month since they’d become lovers, he had yet to stop marveling at the perfection of her lithe, graceful body. He loved the smoothness of her pale gold skin, the concave tautness of her belly, the lean muscles of her arms and legs. She was strong and toned and extremely fit, and she’d come by all of that without ever having lifted a single weight or using any cardio equipment at a gym.

  He had watched her go through her yoga practice a few times, having moved several pieces of furniture aside in his seldom used living room so that she would have enough space, and had been in awe at just how flexible and skilled she was. Just the other night, in fact, he’d stared in disbelief as she had executed a series of poses that he would have sworn only a performer from Cirque du Soleil would have been capable of doing - like kicking up smoothly into a handstand, then bending her legs over her head until her toes touched her forehead into a pose she’d called Scorpion. She’d finished the sequence by lowering her feet all the way to the floor into a backbend. And that had been just one of the mind boggling poses she’d twisted, bended, and otherwise contorted her limber, toned body into over the course of an hour or so. It had also been very obvious during her practice that she was a trained dancer, her movements so graceful and in sync with the accompanying music that he had felt he was watching a dance performance of some sort.

  Naturally, he’d quickly grown aroused watching her, especially considering how closely her yoga pants and tank top clung to her curves. It didn’t matter in the slightest to Matthew that her breasts were on the small side, especially since they were perfectly shaped and very firm. He found them far sexier than the ridiculously large implants that Lindsey strutted around with.

  In general, he considered Sasha a much sexier, and far more sensual woman, than his soon to be ex-wife could ever aspire to be. Despite the fact that she didn’t wear makeup or paint her nails and was more often than not barefoot, Sasha’s sensuality couldn’t be denied, and was simply a part of who she was. She was earthy and natural and entirely comfortable in her skin, and he’d never met anyone who turned him on the way she did.

  Matthew glanced at the digital bedside clock and sighed. It was Saturday morning, and Sasha would need to be at the yoga studio sooner than later. Fortunately, the class she taught today didn’t begin until eleven a.m., a full two hours later than tomorrow’s start time, but she also had three massage appointments scheduled this afternoon. Syncing their schedules had been a little frustrating for him, especially on weekends like this one when he didn’t have Hayley and Casey. He didn’t get to see nearly as much of Sasha as he would have liked, given his own packed schedule at work, but recognized that it would hardly be fair to expect her to cancel client appointments simply to accommodate him.

  And she remained steadfast in her resolve not to accept a penny from him for the massages she gave him on a weekly basis. He felt badly that she was losing potential income from the times she devoted to him, but that didn’t seem to bother Sasha. He’d never come right out and asked her how much money she made, or if she had any savings. They hadn’t been together nearly long enough for her to confide such things in him, and he already knew how fiercely she cherished her independence and self-reliance.

  And she had no idea, none at all, about just how much he was worth. She had asked him about his work and the company, and confessed that she knew practically nothing about computers or electronics in general. She’d seemed a little taken aback to learn that he owned four cars, each one a top of the line luxury model. He had taken her out to dinner several times, though the fact that she was a vegetarian had limited some of his choices in restaurants, further complicated by the fact that she had seemed a bit uncomfortable at a couple of the fancier places he’d chosen.

  But Matthew knew instinctively that even if he told her exactly how much money he had, down to the last penny, that her attitude towards him wouldn’t change a lick. She would still be the same easygoing, down to earth woman that she always was, the sort who would never ask him for a thing, or expect anything from him. It seemed that all she really wanted was to enjoy the times they spent together, whether that was watching a movie, going for a long walk, or making love.

  And the sex had been truly amazing between them, cer
tainly the best he’d ever known. Sasha was a quiet lover, not feeling the need to talk very much during their lovemaking, but she was adept all the same at communicating her feelings - with a caress, a kiss, a low moan of pleasure. He knew without having to ask that he pleased her, and that she enjoyed their encounters every bit as much as he did. And she had made him feel good about himself again, had given his male ego a much needed boost after it had taken a severe beating after Lindsey’s complete disregard for his feelings. Matthew felt much more confident about himself as a lover, even after a scant month with Sasha, and found that she’d awakened a passion within himself that he would have never suspected he possessed.

  His stress level continued to dissipate as well, and with the subtle changes he was still making to his diet, he felt healthier and more vital than he had in years. Sasha had shown him how to make green smoothies, and he drank one nearly every day now before leaving for work. Elena had given him a skeptical look when he’d asked her to stop bringing him breakfast pastries or bagels in the morning, requesting yogurt parfaits or protein bars instead. He’d cut his coffee intake - which had begun approaching the eight cup a day tally - to no more than two cups, and drank green tea most of the time. And he found himself ordering vegetarian entrees more and more frequently when he ate out with Sasha - not because she encouraged him to do so, but because whatever she selected always seemed to look more appetizing than the meat or chicken he would have normally chosen.

  Being with her simply made him happy, he realized, as he gave in to temptation and ran a finger down the curve of her hip and thigh, smiling as she wiggled her bottom slightly in protest. She never fussed or complained, never demanded anything from him or argued, and was always understanding and supportive if he had to cancel a date or was running an hour late. Unlike Lindsey, he thought with a scowl, who would have a fit if he had to back out of a party she wanted to attend at the neighbors, or if he was more than five minutes late meeting her for lunch.

  Sasha’s cell phone pinged from where she’d left it on the nightstand with an incoming voice mail. Matthew, who made it a point to always own the very latest, most high tech models of cell phones, tablets, and computers, had been visibly appalled at how outdated and simplistic her phone was. She’d shrugged it off, admitting that she rarely used the phone and barely knew how to send a text message. And then she had really shocked him with the fact that she didn’t own a computer of her own, just borrowed one of her roommates’ from time to time to download music tracks that she used for her yoga classes.

  “You do understand what it is I do for a living, right?” he’d asked incredulously. “And that I have four - no, make that five - computers just here at the condo? I used to build computers from scratch when I was in high school. So my life has basically revolved around them for more than twenty years, and my business is completely dependent on them. I guess given all of that it’s tough for me to understand that not only don’t you have one of your own, but don’t seem to care very much about having one, either.”

  Sasha had given a little shrug. “Not really, no. I’ve already told you that I prefer to read a book or listen to music as opposed to using a computer or watching TV. But I realize that computers are very important to you, to your business, so it doesn’t bother me in the least if you use yours when we’re together. Correction - if you use one of the five you apparently own.”

  She had laughed when he’d threatened to not only upgrade her phone but to give her one of his laptops as well, probably figuring that he was just joking. But Matthew was completely serious about the matter, and planned to do something about the situation sooner than later.

  Sasha began to stir and stretch, having been woken either by his teasing caresses or the sound of her phone pinging. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him drowsily, pulling his head down to hers for a lazy good morning kiss.

  “Mmm, what time is it?” she drawled sleepily, stretching her arms and legs in opposite directions, completely unselfconscious of her nudity.

  “Around eight-thirty,” he told her, bending to nuzzle the side of her neck. “You’ve still got plenty of time before you need to be at the studio.”

  She made a sound that was half-groan, half-chuckle. “Except that on Saturdays I usually spend a couple of hours before class starts doing my own practice. Guess I’ll be giving that a miss today.”

  “I’m sorry,” he replied somewhat guiltily. “I should have set an alarm for you. But we, uh, were up pretty late last night so I figured you needed your rest.”

  “It’s fine,” assured Sasha, cupping his stubbled cheek in one hand. “It won’t kill me to miss a day once in awhile. And it did feel nice to sleep in for once. Did I hear my phone buzz or was that a dream?”

  Matthew shook his head and handed her the phone. “A call just came in a couple of minutes ago.”

  She propped herself up against the pillows, seeming not to notice when his gaze dropped automatically to the proud thrust of her breasts, and sighed anew when she checked her messages. “My mother, of course. And given that she’s calling this early must mean she’s wound up about something.”

  He dropped a kiss on the top of her curly head. “Tell you what. I’ll go fix you a cup of tea while you call her back. Should I bring you a protein bar, or just some fruit?”

  Sasha beamed at him, her green-gold eyes shining. “Hey, aren’t you the CEO of some multi-billion dollar company? You’re not supposed to be waiting on me. In fact, I’ve always wondered why you didn’t have live-in help, someone who’s always ready to wait on you at the drop of a hat.”

  Matthew rolled his eyes. “Please. I might be rich but I’ve never been pretentious. Plus, I like my privacy so no live-in help ever. I’ll go get your tea. And since you couldn’t decide, I’ll bring you a bar and a bowl of fruit.”

  She blew him a kiss and then frowned as she began to call her mother back. When he returned a few minutes later, she was speaking in rapid, fluent Russian, and looking more than a little irritated - something he’d never seen her do before.

  Sasha took the steaming mug of tea from him with a grateful smile, and then took a deep, appreciative sip of her favorite herbal brew. Matthew could hear her mother speaking quite clearly on the other end of the line, and without having any clue what the woman was saying, he winced at the mere sound of her angry, increasingly loud voice.

  Sasha merely gave a little shrug and rolled her eyes, as though this was a regular occurrence with her mother. She replied in Russian, though her tone was far calmer and quieter than her mother’s.

  He’d already known, of course, that she spoke several languages, not just her mother’s native Russian and the Portuguese she’d learned from infancy from her father. She was also fluent in both French and Spanish, the former from the times she’d lived with her aunt and uncle in Paris, and the latter from traveling extensively through South and Central America with her father. Matthew had joked that the only languages he knew besides English were Java, PHP, and CSS - all of which, of course, were computer programming languages - but he had been incredibly impressed by Sasha’s own foreign language skills. For someone who had never attended college, except for an eighteen month stint when she had taken courses at a holistic medical school, she continued to amaze him with how intelligent and well read she was, as well as her ability to converse on a wide and diverse number of topics.

  Sasha ended the call looking both exhausted and dazed, and peered into her mug of tea before taking a long drink.

  “Why is it that every time I get a call from my mother I feel in need of a good stiff drink afterwards?” she mused. “And definitely something stronger than oolong.”

  Matthew grinned. “I could mix you up a killer tequila sunrise, if you’d like.”

  She returned his smile. “Don’t tempt me. But if anyone could drive a person to drink, it would be my mother. Or, on occasion, my father. And when the two of them are in the same room - even the same city - for too lo
ng, it’s a wonder I don’t spend the entire visit drunk.”

  Over the past few weeks, he’d coaxed little bits and pieces of information from her about her parents, and what it had been like growing up while following one or the other of them around the globe.

  “I guess most people, and children in particular, would think it was fun and exciting,” she had told him. “Never staying in one place very long, seeing different cities and countries and cultures, basically living in hotel rooms or tour buses or trains. I switched schools several times a year, or occasionally had tutors. I didn’t have a regular bedtime, pretty much got to eat whatever I wanted, and life was basically one ongoing adventure. Until I grew up and realized how much I hated living that way, how all I really wanted was a normal family, and to sleep in the same bed every night. That’s when I set my foot down and went to live with Tia Linda.”

  It had been her aunt who’d first introduced Sasha to yoga, and she had known immediately after that first class that this was what she had always been meant to do. During high school, she’d worked part-time jobs after school and on weekends, mostly waiting tables or being a receptionist at a couple of different yoga studios, and had saved as much money as possible. After graduation, she’d immediately enrolled in a yoga teacher training program, and had then begun the slow, often frustrating process of getting classes assigned to her and growing her student base. At one point in those early years, she had taught classes at five different studios and substituted for other teachers whenever possible.

  Becoming a massage therapist had quickly become her next ambition, and she’d scrimped and saved even more diligently to afford the fees involved. But now, a full ten years after she’d begun the journey, Sasha was one of the most popular, well liked yoga teachers in San Francisco, and her classes were always filled to capacity. And getting a massage appointment with her often took weeks. Matthew had secretly read reviews from both her yoga students and massage clients on Yelp, and had been immensely proud to learn how highly each and every one of them regarded her.