Free Seven Nights to Forever by Evangeline Collins Page B

“Well then, I shouldn’t want you to join their ranks.”
    Blindly reaching to his right, he set the cup on the side table.
    His head lolled forward, chin dropping to his chest. All the pent-up stress whooshed out of him. With unerring accuracy, she found all the right places, carefully working the taut tendons and muscles, massaging out to the apples of his shoulders and then back toward his spine. He couldn’t suppress the low grunt as she found a particularly sore spot at the base of his neck and pressed harder, staying just on the pleasurable side of pain.
    His eyes drifted shut as slow, sensuous desire washed over him at the feel of her fingers combing through his hair and massaging his scalp. Slow and unhurried, she made her way to his temples, rubbing in soothing circles for a long moment, before traveling back to the nape of his neck. Then those fingers drifted down, over his cravat, pausing to give more attention to his shoulders before working the sore muscles of his biceps.
    He felt her warm breath fan his ear a second before she spoke.
    “Lie on the floor.” Small hands pushed lightly against his shoulder blades.
    So utterly relaxed, it took a moment to wrap his mind around her request. He blinked open his eyes. “The floor?”
    “Unless you’d prefer my bed.” Her whispered words were both a taunt and an open invitation.
    “The floor is acceptable.” Regardless of his decision to seize the opportunity tonight, he just could not get over the reluctance to walk through the door so many men had gone through. It was as if by remaining here, he could convince himself he was not using her to slake his own selfish desires.
    “Come along.” She pushed again, though she barely budged him. “Unless you want me to stop?”
    Hell, no. He shook his head.
    “And remove your coat and waistcoat. All that fabric gets in the way.”
    Standing, he did as he was bidden, stripping down to his shirtsleeves, though it wasn’t an easy feat since his attention was fixed on her as she swept around from behind the settee. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had lost a button or two in the process. Not that he cared. His tailor could see to it tomorrow.
    He lowered himself to his knees, then lay on his stomach on the plush rug, resting his head on his folded arms. Her skirts brushed his sides. Silk rustled. And then her weight settled on his lower back. He felt the heat from her core even through the linen of his shirt.
    She was bare beneath that dress.
    He couldn’t keep the deep, low groan inside.
    “Am I too heavy for you?” she asked, misinterpreting the source of his groan.
    “Oh God, no. Not at all. You’re perfect.”
    She chuckled, light and airy. “I’m glad you think so.”
    Her hands were pure magic as she worked down the length of his back, her thumbs bracketing his spine and coaxing his muscles to relax. When she reached the waistband of his trousers, she scooted back, and her hands continued down over his buttocks, the tips of her fingers just grazing the crease, and down his legs. He twitched, an involuntary start of a laugh tickling his throat, when she rubbed the backs of his knees.
    “Ticklish?” she asked in a soft, playful whisper.
    “Apparently.”
    “I’ll have to remember that.”
    Then she slowly worked her way back up, adept hands coasting over his back in long, slow, generous sweeps, the motion lulling his senses, tempting him to drift off to sleep. She could rub his back all night long and he wouldn’t say a word in protest.
    Never in his life had he been the object of such undivided attention from a woman. It was a heady feeling, one he could easily grow accustomed to if given the opportunity.
    “Turn over.” The soft command swept past his ear.
    Her weight left his lower back as she moved to kneel beside him. It took more effort than should be required to organize his limbs enough to roll over. Gathering her skirt, she straddled his waist, the amber silk pooling about them. She was