“Relax, I know that it tickles a little. I’m just spreading the warmed oil.” Her fingertips pressed into the curve of his spine and then outwards just above the towel covering his backside, back up his sides and then into his shoulders again. She repeated the same movement several times over, bringing a surprising heat to his flesh before she concentrated on the muscles at the base of his neck, pressing the pads of her thumbs gently into their corded tightness.
He’d had massages before, mostly from specialist injury therapists, but this was different. His bones turned to liquid, an involuntary groan leaving his lips as something in him gave, and he all but melted into the bed. Her fingers spread slightly wider, seeking out the cramped and tight muscles beneath his deltoids. Light tremors rippled though him from her delicate but confident touch. Then she pressed more firmly using the heels of her hands, and just when the sensations became so intense he thought he was going to cry out, she lifted the pressure, swirling her palms down over his back, repeating the original languid motion and bringing the heat back up.
He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but this hadn’t been it at all. His mind whirled with sensation. It was almost too much to bear. She looked far too delicate to be giving a massage of this intensity. He breathed in deeply as she worked her way around another set of bunched flesh and he lost the will to resist her any longer.
He never wanted it to end.
And then her hands left him.
God, please don’t stop! Don’t stop! He chanted the words over and over in his head as he revelled in the delicious residual feelings, almost pain but mostly a wondrous sense of pure pleasure.
“It’s okay, I’m not stopping yet. Just warming some more oil. Your skin is drinking it up as though it has been starved of attention.” Her words sounded as though they came from far away. “We’ve not begun on your lower back yet, and if you’re still feeling good we can have a go at the tendons in the backs of your thighs. We’ll get around to doing a facial reflexology session next time.”
She wasn’t stopping and there was going to be a ‘next time’! He sighed in relief before realization hit him hard.
Shit, shit, shit! He’d begged her not to stop in his mind but he had said his words aloud. His cheeks burned with heat that had nothing to do with the massage. Could he feel any more pathetic than he did right now? She would think he’d gone mad, gone soft in the head. He waited for her to laugh or to rib him over his idiotic words, but there was no sound of amusement, or chuckle, or even a quiet snigger. Perhaps she didn’t mind this temporary weakness. Maybe this was how everyone felt when they had a therapy massage. Maybe everyone spoke their inner thoughts aloud.
And suddenly he didn’t care. Her hands came back down on him, smoothing his skin, rolling the muscles gently and he relaxed again as he let her ease every last thread of tension from his body.
Crystal felt his surrender. His body became supple, so malleable, and his skin turned to velvet beneath her hands. It happened so suddenly and so completely a tear sprang into her eyes at the trust he placed in her.
She had stared at him lying on the bed for several seconds before she walked into the treatment room. His shoulders and back rippled with tension as he attempted to find a comfortable position on the narrow bed. He cushioned his head on his forearms and closed his enticingly dark eyes. He’d clearly not shaved before dinner. The dark stubble on his jaw defined his pale vulnerability. Her eyes wandered lower. His muscle definition surpassed anything she had ever seen before. Every fibre of corded strength showed beneath the fine layers of his skin. His body appeared so honed that it looked like a real life version of the diagrams in an anatomy book.
The fact that his lower legs were missing meant nothing. He was utterly flawless, perfect, and beyond beautiful.
She could barely tear her eyes away from him, but she took a calming breath as she stepped forward into the room and closed the door gently behind her.
She’d been unsure whether to ask him to strip naked, but she was doing this in a professional capacity as much as a personal one and the elastic waistband of boxer shorts would prove to be a big problem when it came to the muscles in his lower back. He would have to lift his pelvis to give her space to fold them down out of her way. Not a good idea when you had just spent the previous twenty minutes turning someone’s muscles to jelly, and anyway, touching someone’s underwear always felt more intimate and personal than having them naked to begin with.
She had turned her back to collect towels to give him privacy but the brief sight of his taut buttocks before she laid the warm towels over him almost caused her to gasp. Get a grip! You wanted this. You make sure he wants it too. She scolded herself as she began warming the oil in her palms.
Touching his body for the first time was the most incredible thing she had ever experienced. The hard slabs of his flesh twitched and tensed, fighting her insistent manipulation for long minutes before eventually bowing to her gentle persuasion and becoming pliant under her palms.
She worked up a gentle rhythm before becoming more assertive, pressing carefully into the tightest spots and then working them hard. She’d felt the rigidity leave his body only minutes after she had begun but she almost gasped in shock when she stopped to reach for more oil and heard him whisper under his breath, ‘don’t stop, please don’t stop.’
Controlling the rise in her heart rate became impossible. The pleasure he took from the massage was more than she could have hoped for. Her hands trembled as she covered them with the oils and she took a moment to calm her nerves before touching his body again.
She worked lower, leaning in gently to exert greater pressure on his tight muscles. He groaned when she hit a knotted spot low in his waist and he sighed as she spread her hands wide to encompass his sides as she stroked the heat back into his flesh. She turned her hands over and elicited almost inaudible grunts of contentment when she used her knuckles in the dip of his spine.
The towel still in place, her fingertips drifted just below its edge, down the sides of his butt cheeks and out over the backs of his thighs. Working carefully down to the backs of his knees and while avoiding any scar tissue, she pressed gently on the tendons. His left leg jerked and twitched almost uncontrollably and she waited for him to yell at her to stop, but he didn’t. She glanced back up to the side of his face expecting to see accusatory charcoal eyes glaring at her, but his eyelids remained closed and his lips slightly parted. His breathing came low and regular. Not believing what she was seeing, she carried on massaging his body until she had worked her way back up to his shoulders, then watched his face while she listened to his breathing.
She smiled as a tiny drip of drool worked its way out of his mouth and sat glistening in the corner of his achingly soft lips. His shoulder blades rose and fell as his lungs drew in long drags of scented air while his body settled down further into the bed. A soft snore came from deep within his aquiline nose. She lifted her hands from his skin and waited to see if he moved. Not even an eyelid flickered. A slightly louder snore reverberated about the tiny room and he sucked in the drop of water sparkling on his lips.
She shook her head and stood back. His relaxed features gave him a boyish look, tender and almost soft. The tiny line between his brows had disappeared and his long, dark eyelashes drooped onto his high cheekbones. His lips looked as yielding and as full as her own, and it took everything she had not to lean down and kiss them. Instead, she lifted the stray strands of hair from his forehead and gently moved them back into place. He snored again and puffed a long breath out of his mouth.
She stood back from him not knowing quite what to do. She didn’t want to wake him if he really had been that tired, but she didn’t want to leave him there either. He would either fall off the bed or wake up embarrassed with himself and angry at her.
“Oh, James. This wasn’t meant to happen.” She whispered to herself before moving quietly to the cupboard and taking down another couple of warm towels. She covered his body
, leaving the towels loose so that he wouldn’t become entangled in them and then, unable to resist she leaned over and touched her lips to his cheek before she used the machinery to lower the bed. It wouldn’t quite rest on the floor but it would only be an eight inch drop if he managed to roll off the thing. She dimmed the lights further and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Something didn’t feel right. His face felt stiff from the drool that had leaked from his mouth and dried on his forearm. He lifted his head and winced as he peeled his cheek from his arm. He rubbed his hand over his face, a little surprised at how scrubby his skin felt. Maybe he should have shaved before dinner after all. A yawn built and he rubbed at the side of his mouth. Odd. The drool had dried so quickly and his eyes itched mercilessly. He focused as he blinked slowly, revealing that he was almost at ground level and still on the therapy bed.
Had he fallen asleep in the middle of the massage?
“Crystal?” His voice croaked dryly. He looked about as he spoke into the obviously empty room before leaning over the side of the bed and feeling about for the switch that would bring it up to the usual height once again. Had she thought he might fall from the bed and hurt himself? Must have been something like that or she wouldn’t have lowered the bed to the floor. Getting up from the ground with no feet was a near impossibility and hauling himself into the chair to put on his prosthetics wasn’t a great prospect either. After a couple of tries at pressing buttons that either raised his head or his legs, he found the right one and the whole bed began to rise.
A cascade of large towels fell from his shoulders and back and slid to the floor as he sat up. He smiled at Crystal’s thoughtfulness in keeping him warm, and wondered how long he had been there. He wasn’t stiff or aching so perhaps it hadn’t been so long. A power nap?
He leaned over to grab his socks and his prosthetics, then quickly dressed. He was about to gather the towels and place them in the laundry when he suddenly heard a noise from outside in the gym. Someone was walking between the machines, stopping occasionally before moving on. For a moment James wondered if it wasn’t a thief in the night, but then some music suddenly began playing and weights shifted on a machine. Perhaps Crystal had decided to work out while he napped, but it seemed unlikely. She’d never mentioned going to a gym before. She didn’t need to. Her naturally slender body was perfect exactly as it was.
He opened the treatment room door and poked his head out to see who was working out in the evening. The noise of the machine suddenly stopped.
“’ello there. I didn’t know anyone was down ‘ere this early today. Did you want to work out too?” Jules, Geraldine’s brother and the château’s personal trainer grinned at him from one of the benches.
James blinked in confusion.
“How early is early? I thought you were all still having dinner.” He yawned loudly and blinked again as he noticed light coming through the tiny windows high up in the gymnasium wall. Was that sunshine? He looked back at Jules. “I seem to have become confused. I was having a massage and I clearly fell to sleep for a few moments. Is anyone else about?” He peered about the gymnasium while he wondered where Crystal might have gone.
Jules shook his head as he chuckled and lifted his chin towards a clock on the wall, indicating the time.
“I think that it was more than a few moments, mon ami. It is ‘alf past nine. That’s am not pm, and no one ‘as been in ‘ere since last night.”
James’ mouth fell open.
“Good grief! It’s morning already? But we came down here just after eight last night. That’s about thirteen hours straight. I haven’t slept for that long since I was in my mother’s womb.”
Jules let out a bellow of laughter.
“You must ‘ave needed the rest and it must ‘ave been a fabulous massage. Who gave it to you? Rebecca and Delphine are not in this week.”
James couldn’t get his bearings. Thirteen hours on that tiny bed with barely a movement and he wasn’t stiff or sore or aching anywhere. He scratched his head where his hair stuck up at one side. More evidence that he had lain very still the whole night long.
“Crystal gave it to me. She was testing out some new method she has for relaxation. She used some special oil.” He turned his head slightly and sniffed at the subtle fragrance beneath the material of his shirt.
Jules nodded, clearly impressed.
“And you ‘ave laid there asleep for thirteen hours. ‘er massages works very well. I’ll ‘ave to ask her to give me one the next time I need a good night’s sleep.”
James’s eyes wandered over Jules. The man was a God, magnificent in every way. Young, well youngish, younger than himself at any rate, square jawed, dark haired and green eyed. He was built like a mountain. Tall, handsome, and graceful. He was kind too, thoughtful and attentive to all the guests. And as far as James knew, he was single. He grunted miserably at the thought of Crystal’s hands on any other man again, this time a whole and perfect one. Something deep inside his chest gave a horrible jolt and his guts rolled. He turned away from Jules and walked towards the door, only pausing to speak over his shoulder.
“I think you’ll have to make an appointment. Her regular client list is becoming quite full.”
Chapter Seven
“Good kip?” David cocked an amused eyebrow as a freshly showered James wandered into the kitchen half an hour later.
James rolled his eyes and filled the kettle.
“Any chance of some breakfast? I’m starving. I don’t mind having my smoked trout from last night.”
David coughed guiltily into his hand.
“Fat chance, mate. No such thing as leftovers here, but there’s plenty of other stuff. Help yourself. Patrick always leaves the fridge bursting.”
James took a plate from the cupboard, opened the fridge door and peered inside. He lifted the foil from a plate of sliced ham and helped himself.
“That’s because he knows that you live here. You’re worse than any Labrador. It’s a wonder that you’re not the size of a prize porker.” He added a couple of wedges of cheese to his breakfast platter before closing the fridge door and taking a chunk of fresh bread from the board.
David ran his hand down his flat stomach and grinned as Geraldine swept into the kitchen closely followed by his sister Ellen.
“I get all the exercise I need.” His eyes roamed hungrily over his beautiful wife, but for once she didn’t return the look. She ran straight to the kitchen door and let out a gasp.
“There! I knew it. I saw them from upstairs. They have discovered all the fresh ‘erbs and new plants.” She turned to her husband. “Quick, quick, before we ‘ave a disaster on our ‘ands. The chickens ‘ave escaped and are eating all Patrick’s vegetables.” She flapped her hands at him and encouraged him towards the door.
David followed her line of vision.
“Hell! She’s right. How did they get out? I thought we had that chicken coop sewn up tight in case of foxes.” He put down his mug and turned toward the door.
Ellen ran past him, shouting over her shoulder as she went.
“Emily volunteered to collect the eggs. She must have thought she had shut the gate but it can’t have caught properly. They’ve come straight here for the tips of the new veg. Patrick’s going to go mad if they destroy his garden.”
Just as she spoke a whirlwind of a giant came hurtling around the garden gate at the other side of the plot. James closed his eyes tightly and covered his ears as the man himself roared at the birds and began running around the vegetable patch.
“Too late.” He observed and laughed when he opened his eyes again. Patrick tried to grab one of the flapping birds but missed and fell over sideways as his foot caught in the strings marking the rows of vegetable seedlings. Geraldine captured a chicken and then promptly dropped it when it pecked at her arm. Ellen shooed a scratching hen from a row of spinach and then shrieked as it flew straight up into David’s face, sending him reeling backwards into his
wife. Crystal and Emily joined the fray and suddenly the garden was full of people attempting to catch chickens at the same time as avoiding stepping on the neat lines of new herbs and green shoots.
Crystal ran nimbly and quickly caught a plump hen under each arm, while Emily hopped about and shouted to anyone who would listen that she was sorry for the trouble she had caused.
James stepped outside to do whatever he could, but the chickens were making a valiant attempt at remaining free and he ended up taking a long, involuntary stride, partly to miss stepping on a squawking, flapping bird and partly to avoid a particularly lush looking patch of what looked like newly set strawberry plants.
It happened so quickly that for a moment he was unsure what was going on, and then he couldn’t stop himself. His right foot sank into the soft, freshly dug earth and disappeared below its surface. His left foot caught on a trailing plant and, being off balance, he fell hard onto his knee. Pain radiated up through his thigh and down to his toes. He lifted his foot from the mud, regained his footing on firmer soil and tried to stand up, but he’d overstretched and something suddenly felt wrong. A sharp pinch tweaked in the back of his thigh and he fell down again as agony shot down from his buttocks to his calves. He rolled sideways in the soil as intense stabs of pain radiated through his legs. It was as if they had been broken again. A strange haze filled his vision.
He blinked hard and looked down, and for a weird moment was convinced that he could see bone poking through his trousers. Blood pooled for a second before it sank into the earth, and then he heard someone shouting his name. He looked towards the sound. An ocean of blue surrounded him, coming closer. Gentle fingertips touched his cheek and he leaned into them, the familiar fragrance of them engulfing his senses. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, and then the subtle delicacy of it vanished as he attempted to get closer. His legs twisted and a wall of pure torture crashed into him blotting out anything else in its path with the efficiency of an atomic bomb and the world turned black around him.
Scarred Surrender (Scarred Series Book 6) Page 8