Free Claimed by the Mate, Volume 1 by Kate Douglas

channeling sexual energy directly to her clit.
    She almost laughed when she realized how much she’d been thinking about sex all day.
    Amazing what associating with sexy men could do to a girl’s libido.
    There was a big black case with a handle on top sitting on Cherry’s front porch. She went to help Brad take it inside, but after trying to lift one end she quickly gave up. “This thing weighs a ton. How did Cain get it here by himself?” Cherry opened the door and reached for it again.
    Brad waved her off. “It’s all in how you lift it. Why don’t you turn the light on and move your poor little feminine self out of the way.”
    â€œOh, you are so asking for it.” She laughed and then did exactly that. Brad grabbed the handle, picked the table up, and carried it inside. The only sign it was any kind of effort for him was the delicious bulge of his muscles.
    He set the case in the open space between the bed and the kitchenette and opened it. More opportunity to watch his muscles flex. Cherry didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him move. He was so comfortable with his body that he didn’t seem the least bit awkward in the worn jeans that rode low on his hips and cupped his package in a perfectly praiseworthy manner. His faded T-shirt stretched so tightly, it molded his muscular chest as if he’d painted it on.
    It was at that point, while admiring said package and chest, Cherry realized that after a little over twenty-four hours at Feral Passions she wasn’t even thinking of her own clothing or even her weight. It was a shocking revelation, since they were both issues that generally occupied a large portion of her frontal lobe when she wasn’t stressing out over other stuff that was just as inconsequential in the overall scheme of things.
    Obviously, her newfound change in focus was going to require some thought. Later.
    A couple of quick flips and Brad had the table set up in the only open space in the small cabin, which made the cabin seem infinitely smaller. What had reminded her of an old folding cot her dad took camping was now a comfortable-looking massage table with a beautiful leather cover and a form-fitting attachment at one end with a hole for her face.
    Cain knocked on the door as Brad was locking the table legs in place.
    â€œYou timed that right,” Cherry said. She held the door open for him and Cain walked in with two large tote bags. “Brad just got the table set up.”
    â€œThat’s good.” He set the bags down. “Okay, Cherry, before you get to take off your clothes and turn yourself over to my magic touch, I want you to set some candles out around the room. There are half a dozen of them—find places that feel right to you.”
    â€œFeel right?” Cherry took the basket filled with candles he handed to her. “I didn’t picture you as the New Age sort, Cain.”
    He laughed. “I’m not, really, but I do know that candlelight is relaxing, and these have a mild vanilla scent that can calm anyone.”
    â€œThank goodness it’s not lavender.” Cherry took the basket and walked into the kitchen area to place the first candle. Anything to keep her from thinking about Cain’s words. The ones about taking off her clothes. “Everyone says lavender’s supposed to remove stress,” she said, “All it does is make me sneeze.”
    â€œI’m glad I left the lavender at home.” Cain pulled out a soft white flannel sheet and covered the massage table with it while Cherry hunted for places for the candles. One in the kitchenette on the granite counter, another went on the table beside the bed. She put one on top of the armoire and another on the little table in the opposite corner. There was a good spot on the bookshelf in front of the window—she hadn’t even had time to look at the books in it yet—and the last one went on the bathroom