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Avoiding looking at his rumpled bed was impossible. Which triggered images of him lying between the sheets, his sleek limbs sprawled out in masculine splendour.
No, she wasn’t going to think that way. The day had been fraught with pitfalls already. She wasn’t going to invite more.
Then why are you here, offering assistance, when you could be in the safety of your room?
She told herself it was a good thing that she hadn’t lost her humanity. But the voice continued to tease her as she walked across the opulent space to the sprawling sofa sets on one side of his stateroom.
‘How do you want me?’ he drawled.
Every awakened cell in her body jumped. ‘Um...what?’
His lips quirked. ‘Where is this going to happen, Imogen?’ he amended, amusement trailing through his discomfort.
‘Oh. Um...’ She ignored the heat devouring her face and pointed to the largest sofa. ‘If you stretch out on there I can work on your neck.’
He nodded and immediately strode across the room to the seat.
Watching him lie face down, his torso bronzed and stretched in confident abandon, made her tongue swell in her mouth. Hunger like she’d never known before rippled through her belly, making her breath pant lightly.
Good God, what was wrong with her?
Shaking her head and feverishly praying the sensation would disappear, she set her glass down and approached him.
The sofa was large enough to accommodate a six-foot-three man and to allow her to perch alongside him without discomfort. Unfortunately, it didn’t allow too much of a separation between them and Imogen discovered the precarious position she had put herself in when her hip nudged his the moment she sat down.
She swallowed, determined not to be bothered by the heated proximity. She was here to ease his suffering, not indulge in the torrid images flashing across her brain.
Get yourself together, she berated herself.
Breathing out, she swept his long hair out of the way and planted her fingers at the base of his neck. Heat from his skin flowed into hers and, for the wildest moments, every thought in her head evaporated, save for the sensation she wanted to indulge in.
No.
She kneaded his flesh, studiously recalling how she had treated her grandfather when he’d suffered. The side of Zeph’s neck was knotted in tense muscles. She concentrated her efforts there, using firm circular motions that drew a muted grunt from him. Absurdly pleased with that sound, she worked harder, leaning in when he didn’t reject her firmer efforts. He groaned when she reached his hairline and Imogen hid a smile. Working from one side to the other and then concentrating on both sides in concert, she worked his muscles loose, then returned to his shoulders.
‘I was wrong,’ his voice rambled, his speech slightly slurred as he leaned into her touch. ‘I don’t believe in the occult, but I suspect yours are magical hands.’
This time she couldn’t suppress the wide smile that broke out. ‘I like winning. I especially relish proving you wrong.’
A sound rumbled out of him, a cross between a groan and laughter.
‘Well, I will admit all the wrongs in the world if you keep going,’ he promised.
Companionable silence filled the room as she concentrated on her efforts and was rewarded with several more sounds of appreciation. After half an hour, she sat back and rested her hands in her lap.
‘Now for the temples.’
He raised his head and looked at her over his shoulder. One eyebrow quirked, an expression that could’ve been interpreted as surprise pleasure on his face. ‘There’s more?’
Imogen ignored the leaping of her heart and the tightening in her pelvis and nodded. ‘It worked for Grandpa,’ she threw in, just to dilute what was happening to her.
Zeph shrugged. ‘If it was good enough for your grandfather...’
He turned over with lithe animal grace, and then simply watched her, waiting for instruction.
She gestured with her hand. ‘I need to be behind you.’
He nodded and rose to sit upright. This close, his scent was unavoidable. Sandalwood and warm, vibrant skin, it invited her to breathe him in long and deep. And because her senses were totally overwhelmed by a full day she still hadn’t fully taken in, Imogen gave up fighting it.
