Staring into his eyes, she was teased by the possibility. Teased by the suggestion of pleasure. It would feel so good to feel good again. To feel like a woman again. To feel close to someone again.
“If you’ve finished your dinner,” Mikael said rising. “It’s time to come with me.”
They climbed the stairs from the grotto’s secret room to the courtyard of fragrant white lilies and vines clinging to rock. White candles still glimmered against the walls and outlined the walkway. But now in the middle of the courtyard, between the waterfall and door to the Chamber of Innocence stood a narrow table covered in crisp white sheets.
Jemma looked at Mikael, uncertain. “What is that?”
“A massage table. I’m going to give you a massage,” he said. “You’ll lie there, face down—”
“Why?”
“Most massages start with the back.”
“Yes, but why are you giving me the massage?”
“I think you’d enjoy it. And it would help you relax. I want you to relax. I want you to realize that everything that will happen here in the Bridal Palace will feel good. I will never do anything you don’t want. And if I do something that does make you uncomfortable, all you have to do is speak up.” He drew the top sheet back on the table. “Any questions?”
Jemma tugged on her dress. “Do I wear this?”
“No. You’ll take that off—everything off—and then lie down between the sheets, naked.”
* * *
He’d turned around to give her privacy while she disrobed, but she was on the massage table now, tucked between the sheets.
He looked down at her on the table, her dark glossy hair tumbling over one shoulder.
The massage was for her, not him. He wanted her now. He wanted her naked in his bed now. But she wasn’t ready, and he’d meant it when he told her that she had to be comfortable. She had to want him before anything would happen between them.
He placed his hands over the sheet covering her back, letting her feel the pressure of his hands, letting his hands warm her.
After a moment he smoothed his hands over the sheet covering her back.
She felt good. Warm, solid but smooth.
This wasn’t going to be a sexual massage. He’d told her that before they started. It was to show her he could be trusted. He wouldn’t hurt her, or force her to do anything she didn’t want to do.
This massage was simply to help break the ice.
Develop awareness. Create ease between them. Stir the senses, too, so that she’d be comfortable with him physically. You couldn’t impose desire. It must come from within.
He concentrated on learning the shape of her back through the sheet, the sheet protecting her, giving her a sense of safety. He had told her that at any point she could stop the massage. If at any point she felt uncomfortable or threatened, she just needed to speak up and the massage would end. But he didn’t expect her to stop it.
Moving from her shoulders down, he ran his palms from her spine out, smoothing tension away, relaxing the muscles, letting her continue to warm, encouraging her to breathe more deeply.