When Mickie trickled oil up the back of his uninjured leg, Gray almost threw his back out twisting to look at her. “What are you doing?” he asked, his stomach muscles clenched.

“I’m giving you a massage. I thought that was obvious.” She smiled and rolled her eyes.  “Do you want me to stop?”

Did he want her to stop?  What a stupid question. 

“No, it feels incredible. I, ah, just thought you were going to massage the strained hammy.”

“You’ll find that I don’t do anything halfway, Mr. Jennings.  I noticed you rubbing your neck earlier, so I assume you pulled something there, too?”

Mr. Jennings?  That jerked him right out of his endorphin haze. 

Thoroughness was definitely a bonus in both an employee and a lover.  But Gray had sworn off combining the two five years ago.  Michaela Girabaldi, her magical massage oil, and talented fingers had put a hex on him to make him forget that.  As much as Gray regretted it, he knew it was time to call a halt to this.

“Uh, it’s just a crick in my neck from sleeping on the sofa,” he replied, and flinched because that was just about the weakest example of a cease and desist he could’ve mouthed.

His eyes fell to the scoop neck of her top, where her breasts rose and fell with her short breaths.  A rush of adrenaline surged through him to make him lightheaded.  God, what was this woman doing to him?  Gray was panting, his body buzzing as if electrified, the anticipation of not knowing where she’d go next with this massage a living thing inside him.

“It will be worse once you get on that computer.  Just lay down and let me fix it for you.” 

Instead of waiting for a reply, Michaela straddled him near his waist, flattened him to the mattress with her palm at the center of his back.  With a sigh Gray surrendered as she poured cold oil into the valley between his shoulder blades, because it appeared he was getting a massage whether he wanted one or not.

With quick sweeps of her fingers, she spread the slick liquid to his lower back then moved to the top of the ridge and pressed the heels of her hands into that tight band of muscle.  She kneaded and rocked her way back up to his shoulders and he grunted each time she squeezed, because it felt so damned good.  When she reached his shoulders, her fingers slid over his collarbone and every hair on Gray’s body stood up. 

She squeezed tightly and he groaned loudly as intense pleasure washed through him.  After she squeezed and released several times, she held the last squeeze and he held his breath.  When she finally released the pressure, his breath came out in a whoosh, carrying the tension in his body with it.  She immediately kneaded his nape, smoothed her thumbs outward and swept away the rest of the tension there.  She patted his back before she slid her palms to his shoulders and he moaned when her fingers dug in there.

For a man who didn’t take vacations, he sure felt like he was in the throes of a luxury one right now.  If he could only finish that book while she finished her massage, he’d be a happy man.  Instead, he closed his eyes and replayed those scenes in his head to further torture himself.

“Are you always this tight?” she asked with concern, focusing to knead a particularly sore spot near the left edge of his back.

Tight? Ninety-nine percent of his body felt like a cooked noodle right now.  The other one percent was halfway to Oz.  Gray bit the inside of his cheek as her fingers curled around the cap of his left shoulder and her hands flexed and released.

His body melted into the mattress with a satisfied growl, and her throaty laugh echoed inside his skull, ramping up his pleasure.  She slowly worked her hands inward, then massaged his back with her fingers, the heels of her hands, and the weight of her body.

Between the whiskey, the endorphins, and the herbs in that oil, Gray felt drunk, but on fire, energized but relaxed, his muscles buzzed, but his body felt boneless.  It was a very strange state of consciousness, but definitely not an unpleasant one.  Her hands became hot silk against his skin, his sole focus, as he charted her movement down his back. 

His breaths came quicker, and his heart raced when she reached the center of his back.  A lazy tingle started near his hairline and slithered down his spine as she continued to push the river of endorphins in his body downward.  When she reached the spot on his back that paralleled his navel on the other side of his body, she stopped to scoot her ass back to the base of his spine.

He heard a soft whimper as her hands moved against his back again.  The heat between her legs stroked his lower back as she became more vigorous with her massage.  She moved her hips in time with her hands until Gray felt like she was riding him like a prized horse.  With each sway of her body, she ground his aching cock deeper into the mattress.  His balls contracted, heat scorched up to the head of his cock and he knew he had to stop her now or embarrass himself. 

With a growl, he reached back to grip her thigh and pushed up. She gasped in surprise when he rolled her onto her back and spun to trap her underneath him.  Her glassy eyes met his and her chest heaved against his side.  The pulse pounding at her throat told him she was either scared or as turned on as he was.  Her dilated pupils and flushed cheeks pointed to the second option.

“I shouldn’t do this, but I have to,” Gray growled, breathing hard. “I’m going to kiss you, Jersey, so tell me now if you don’t want that.”

Her molten, hazel eyes met his and, with purpose, she grabbed the back of his skull to pull his mouth to hers.  Her hot, plump lips met his and Gray groaned as their warm breath mixed.  He sealed his mouth to hers and teased his tongue into her heat.  She mewled as she curled her sweet tongue around his, wrapped her calf around his knee and moved her hips against him. 

That’s when Gray knew there was no going back.

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