“You may do the belt and pants in two separate steps, or combine the two. It’s up to you.”
She looked down at his belt with the simple buckle and sighed in relief. With her fingers shaking as they were, she didn’t think she could have handled anything intricate. Unbuckling the belt didn’t intimidate her, but unbuttoning the trousers was the most brazen thing she had ever had to bring herself to do. At least she thought so until she had to unzip them.
“I’d never hurt you, Hailey.” The words came huskily from just above her head.
Her fingers found the zipper’s tab and she pulled it down. Her heart was thudding and she feared for what would happen next. As usual, Tyler surprised her. He stepped back as he kicked off his loafers.
“Thank you,” he said. His socks followed his shoes. Then he was stepping out of his trousers without a modicum of modesty. He tossed them across the back of a chair. The deep shadows in the room cast the angles of his body into sharp relief. He looked stronger, larger, more masculine than he had at the swimming pool. In truth she was seeing no more of him now than she had then. But there was a difference, if only psychological, between swimming trunks and a scrap of soft white cotton.
She jumped back a step when he went down on one knee in front of her. “Don’t you want to get out of these boots?” He looked up at her, his eyes lit with the shine of firelight.
“Y… yes,” she said. Leaning down, she propped her hands on his bare shoulders for balance. His hands caressed the backs of her calves as he eased the boots off one by one.
“There. That’s bound to feel better,” he said as he lay down on his stomach on the quilt and stretched luxuriously. “My life’s in your hands, Hailey.”
Feeling awkward and naive, she knelt beside him. Her shy hands were inches from his back when he spoke again, and she drew back skittishly. “Feel free to get more comfortable whenever you like.”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly.
He shrugged, a motion that set the muscles of his back into play. “There’s no rush.” He rested his cheek on his folded hands. “The bad muscle is just under my right shoulder blade. There’s some lotion there by the sofa,” he added, indicating the plastic bottle on the floor. His eyes closed.
Somewhere she had read that the proper way to give a massage was to put the lotion in the palm of one’s hand rather than pour it directly onto the skin. That way it would be warm before application. She squeezed a dollop of the rich lotion into her palm and smoothed it between her hands. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hands on the tanned flesh of his shoulders.
Her motions were timid at first, but she soon gained confidence when he didn’t move or protest her amateurish method. She worked her hands slowly over the broad expanse of his back, then concentrated on the spot that was bothering him. Her fingers gently kneaded. Her palms pressed.
“You’re a born masseuse,” he mumbled.
“Am I?” she asked, not knowing that her bre
ath fanned the skin of his back.
“A magic touch.”
“You mean I don’t rub you the wrong way?” she asked teasingly.
He cocked a brow over a derisive eye as he twisted his head around to look at her. “You’ve got a whole new career ahead of you—the world’s only comédienne masseuse.”
“I’d go broke in no time.”
“You could use some more practice.” He shocked her by rolling over onto his back. “If you go into the massaging business, you’ll have to be fully educated. Better learn how to do the front, too.”
Their eyes met and Hailey recognized the challenge. He was daring her. His chest rose and fell with his easy breathing. His flat stomach sloping down from his rib cage invited her to trace the silky growth of hair that disappeared beneath his underwear. One knee came up to a bent position, making his attitude one of relaxed confidence. It was a gauntlet that Hailey couldn’t afford to ignore.
Never taking her eyes from his, she poured more lotion in her palm. Being deliberately slow and sensuous, she spread the emulsion between her hands, sliding the fingers of one hand through those of the other. Then she bent over him and placed a hand on either side of his neck. Working outward, she strolled across his shoulders and down his upper arms. She tilted her chin back arrogantly and watched him through half-closed eyes as she squeezed his hard muscles. Alternately contracting and releasing her fingers, she worked them down to the inside of his elbow. There her fingernails lightly raked his sensitized skin.
“You’ve just sealed your fate, Hailey,” he growled. Reaching behind her, he cupped her head in one hand and forced it down to meet his scorching kiss. To brace herself, she put her hands on either side of his head on the quilt. He slanted his mouth across hers, kissing her with naked hunger. His tongue swept her mouth thoroughly, before employing finesse to bring her to a state of quivering arousal.
Her elbows weakened and, unable to support herself any longer, she slumped against him. His mouth followed the curve of her throat. He wasn’t deterred by her blouse, but kissed her through it, burying his face between her breasts and enjoying the fullness with his nose and chin.
He sat up, pushing her to a sitting position as he did. His hand moved from the back of her head to rub his thumb across her bottom lip. “Now it’s your turn,” he whispered. She was held spellbound by his hypnotic eyes as his fingers began working the buttons down her back. When all were released, he eased her blouse over her shoulders and down her arms.
“You’re so pretty, Hailey,” he said, trailing a finger along the curve of her breasts that the fragile lace and nylon of a half-bra couldn’t contain. He drew her to her knees and unfastened her skirt. Without speaking, he indicated what he wanted her to do.
She stood and stepped out of her skirt with a feminine grace that made him smile. With one irrevocable motion, she divested herself of half-slip and panty hose. Then she was standing before him in panties and bra. She wasn’t brave enough to meet his eyes, but she watched his hand as it came up to take hers.
“Lie down,” he directed softly. She lay down on her stomach as he had done, and pressed her fevered cheek against her hands. Without actually watching, she could follow his actions as he poured lotion in his hands, rubbed them together, then laid them on her.
Each stroke was calculated. His fingers were quick and light or slow and hard, but constantly changing tempo. Under his practiced touch, she concentrated on holding herself still when she wanted to squirm and writhe with increasing restlessness.