“I’ve never had a massage,” Seamus admitted, more than a little tempted. He’d seen the ad for the spa in the hotel amenities book and dismissed it, but now he had time on his hands and a little pampering sounded pretty damn good.
“Never? Now that’s a crime,” she said, shaking her head. “No wonder you’re so tense. Ask for Connor—his hands are magic.”
Seamus hesitated. He was already horny as fuck because of one man—letting another slide his hands all over him might push him over the edge. “Connor? Is he another brother?”
Was she blushing? “Only an old friend who gives me a discount for my sparkling personality.”
“A massage from a guy doesn’t sound very…relaxing. Don’t you have any female friends who offer discounts?”
“What would your brother think of a question like that, Mr. Finn?” Gill teased, reaching past him to open his car door for him.
“I think he’d understand,” he said uncomfortably. “I’m new at this. Shouldn’t I start with a woman and, you know, work my way up to the pros?”
“It’s a massage, Seamus, not a boxing match,” she said with an eye-roll. “And women are every bit as ruthless at finding your knots and working you into a puddle of goo. Trust me, he’s the best.”
“All right, fine, I’ll make an appointment with Connor, if he’s available.” Seamus grinned. “Look at how good you are at giving me orders already. We should get married.”
She laughed and spun around, her curls a wild tangle around her head. “See? You’re already in a better mood. And he’ll be available. I’ll make sure of it. Unless you’re too relaxed to stand upright afterward, I’ll see you back here tonight.”
As he drove away he couldn’t help but wonder at his repeated proposals and her continuously amused reactions. She still didn’t take him that seriously…and it didn’t bother him as much as it should. Why had he done it in the first place? Why did he keep doing it?
Because you keep waking up hard after dreaming about Bellamy?
No. He wouldn’t do that to her. Jesus, he hoped he wouldn’t. Gillian was too amazing to dick around with. She deserved a man’s entire attention—the kind of attention he was starting to realize he might not be able give her. It might have been possible before Bellamy woke up that part of him that had been hiding on a forgotten shelf for half his life, but now? He wasn’t sure. And that would never be fair to her.
As for Bellamy, dreaming about sex with that demanding, cocky… Well, it definitely didn’t mean it was going to happen. All it meant was that he was horny as hell and no one had ever talked to him the way Bellamy had before. Everything he said was so overtly sexual. Sensually aggressive. It was disconcerting how strongly Seamus responded to it.
The view of the lush, green Irish countryside distracted him from his thoughts, the way it always did. Driving up the road to the luxury hotel/castle was always surreal.
Every time he pulled in it felt like he was sneaking into someplace he didn’t belong. He was an ordinary guy. Velvet sofas and brocade? Tassels on everything? Not his style. Still, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and one he’d been spending too much time in the brewery to take advantage of. If Gillian hadn’t brought it up, he might have ignored the spa for the entire visit, but maybe a massage was a good idea. He definitely needed to relieve some stress.
He called the front desk to ask about scheduling Connor and smiled when the woman told him Ms. Murphy had already called and gotten him scheduled as Connor’s next appointment. When he wandered down to the spa, a young woman at the desk, lost in whatever was playing on her iPod, jumped in surprise when she saw him.
Blushing, she pulled out her earbuds and pointed toward the hallway past the desk. “Go into the changing room and put on the bathrobe, sir. You can leave your clothes in one of the lockers.”
“My clothes?”
“Your clothes,” she confirmed.
“All of them?”
Now she was looking at him as if he were slow. “Your pants and shoes and things? Put them in a locker. Then go down the hall to room B. That’s Connor’s room. Just turn the knob and go right in.”
“Ah, got it.” Seamus bit his cheek to keep from laughing as he followed her instructions. He kept his underwear on and held on to the belt of his robe, uncomfortably aware of his lack of pants as he went to room B and knocked once before turning the knob.
Mother. Fucker.
There weren’t that many guests at the hotel, but this was too much. Bellamy Demir was sitting on the massage table, his long legs hanging off the side as a younger man rubbed his shoulder. And he was naked, from his flexing feet to the dark hair on his thick, powerful thighs. His skin was glinting with massage oil and the thin white sheet on his lap barely covered his—