Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires)(22)

I had a feeling Silver would like the end result, too.

Guiding me further into the building, Sarina waved me into a low-lit room full of candles. It smelled like sandlewood and coconut, a shelf covered in oils taking up a whole wall.

“Just strip your robe off and get under the sheet,” she said. “Your massage will start in a few minutes.”

“Alright. Sounds wonderful.” I could definitely use this massage. The stress from my meeting with detective Roose had left me tense, even if I'd done my best to forget the whole mess.

Sarina slid out the door, so I unbelted my robe, letting it pool at my feet. In just my lavender bra and panties, I snuggled up onto the table. The room was warm, the gentle music making me sleepy.

With my face pushed into the hole at one end of the table, I started to drift off. Distantly I heard the door open, feet scuffing gently my way.

“Welcome back,” I mumbled, almost giggling at how drunk I sounded. “I was starting to pass out.”

Firm hands slid the sheet down, pressing into my shoulder blades with practiced force. A hot whisper tickled the nape of my neck. “I hope I don't put you to sleep.”

I jolted up, nearly banging Silver in the face with my skull. “You!” I gasped, yanking the sheet around my chest.

And it was him; he stood there with a wicked smirk, his hands shining from massage oil. He'd rolled his shirt up high to his shoulders, exposing his forearms.

Silver was here.

HERE.

Crossing his biceps, he lifted an eyebrow at me. “You look tense. Let me help.”

“How are you here?” I blurted.

“I drove. That's usually how I get around.”

“No. No. How are you—where's my masseuse?” I was flat out stunned.

He flexed his hands, fingers bending one by one. Fuck, he had beautifully long fingers. “Right in front of you. Though masseur is more correct.” He looked me up and down, lingering on my chest through the cloth. “Fancy dress or plain sheet, you manage to be just as stunning.”

Being reminded of the Red and Ripe had me squirming. “You planned this all along.”

“What, coming here to massage you? Of course.”

“Then why that lie about meeting for dinner?” I asked lamely.

He laughed, throwing his head back before leaning close. “That's still happening. But I've been looking forward to this all day. Lie down, Pet.”

A tiny spark of desire dazzled into my belly. “You're serious.”

“Most of the time.” He winked boyishly. “Let me help you relax.”

This is going to do the opposite of relaxing me. I inched around slowly, lying on my stomach. The sheet was still clutched around me like armor.

He startled slow; fingers molding against my shoulders. Inching the sheet away, he exposed my spine. My muscles bunched, I wanted to rebel, but his voice stopped me. “Let me do this,” he whispered. “Let me take control.”

His palms glided downwards, lingering for a moment between my shoulder blades. I was lost in the bliss of his touch. Silver was a master at this, his hands working away my knots, replacing them with something that was slicker... electric.

The sheet was gone, cool air tickling across my hips and ass. I turned, wanting to say how he shouldn't, how I wasn't ready.

Like silk, he pressed down to the backs of my knees. I jumped, and his chuckle was hot chocolate in my veins. He cupped my calves, digging in until he was stroking the soles of my feet. It was gradual, but the flames of arousal began to lick at me.

“Is that good?” he asked.

Chewing my lip, I shoved my head into the forehead rest. My muffle of agreement must have pleased him, because he swung across me, dragging his fingertips along the muscles of my arms. With each stroke, my nerves turned from arching cats into purring kittens.

Then he slid his hand up the inside of my thigh, ruining everything.

“Hey!” I gasped, pushing up on my hands to stare at him.

His eyes twinkled. “Something wrong?”

“I don't want a happy ending with this massage.”

“Everyone wants a happy ending,” he said softly, bending away so I couldn't tell what the expression on his face meant. The low lights hid him from me, and worse, I sensed him pulling away.

Before I could investigate what was wrong, Silver peered back at me. The glimmering centers of his amber eyes were unforgettable. He was here—with me—and I convinced myself whatever I'd sensed was my imagination. “Don't lie,” he said. “It's obvious you want me to touch you.”

I bristled, not just because of his audacity, but because he was right. “You're the one who showed up out of nowhere to give me a massage. If anyone wants anything here, it's you.”

“Oh, you're definitely right,” he chuckled. His weight settled on the table, his palms on either side of my hips. The candles along the walls turned his skin into a glistening bronze canvas. “I want to touch you more than anything, I want to feel the soft folds around your clit and discover how wet I'm getting you, Pet.”

My breath hitched, become a solid ball in my throat. Silver lifted a hand in the air, flexing his fingers. On impulse, my * clenched. “Are you asking me to stop?”

“I'm just saying I'm not... ready for you to go that far.”