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told him no. At least not in the way he meant. He tilted her
face up to his, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Then let me.”
    “That’s not part of my wish,” she
whispered.
    “No. It’s mine.”
    Her eyes darkened. And in their depths he
could see that his words relaxed her. Excited her. Aroused her. But
she was still hesitant.
    He needed to do something to ease her
stress.
    He slid his hands down to hers, clasped her
fingers, and drew her around, walking backward out onto the porch
again. She followed, her brows drawn low, questions swirling in her
glittering eyes. “I thought—”
    “There is no rush. Only time. Only this.
Turn around.”
    Hesitation swirled in her eyes, but she
turned to face the double chaise that appeared on the porch.
“What’s this for?”
    “For you.” He muttered words in his
language, and the chaise dropped flat, the thick, plush cushion
smoothing out before her. “Lie down on your stomach.”
    She
looked over her shoulder with are you for real ? eyes. Eyes that brought a smile to his lips and
warmed the chill deep in his chest. “I promise, nothing will happen
that you do not want to happen. Lie down and let me rub the tension
from your shoulders.”
    She hesitated, then finally climbed onto the
chaise and stretched out. He handed her a throw pillow, which she
tucked under her head and wrapped her arms around. “You don’t have
to massage me.”
    “Shh,” he said as he smoothed the back of
her dress across her hamstrings. “Just enjoy.”
    She drew in a breath, let it out, relaxed
into the cushion. He moved around the front of the chaise, knelt
down, and brushed her hair to the side, then began kneading the
muscles of her shoulders.
    She exhaled a long breath, relaxed even
further, and as he felt the tension begin to ease, he moved his
hands over the back of her dress, down to her waist, and up again,
never touching her bare skin, never pushing her farther than she
wanted.
    “Do you like that?” He trailed his hands up
her spine, pressed fingers into the muscle as he worked his way
down to her lower back.
    “Too much. You have magic hands.”
    He moved to her ribs, slid his hands up her
sides, felt her suck in a breath when his fingertips barely brushed
the outsides of her breasts.
    She was soft where a woman should be soft,
firm where she should be firm, and as his gaze strayed to the hem
of her dress, resting just above the backs of her knees, he had a
wicked, erotic flash of dragging the skirt up with his teeth, of
massaging the soft, rounded globes of her backside, of lifting her
hips and sinking into her from behind.
    Blood rushed to his cock, hardening him with
only the thought. It had been years since he’d wanted a female as
much as he wanted this one. He’d lost his desire when he’d lost his
freedom. But with her, here, now, he felt as if he was regaining a
tiny piece of himself.
    She pushed on her hands, straightened her
arms and looked up at him. His fingers stilled against her upper
back as he gazed down at her face. The warm breeze ruffled her hair
against her cheeks, and the way the sunlight fell across her skin,
she almost sparkled. Want and need and desire swirled in her eyes.
The combination left him hard and achy. And though he knew for her
this was merely a wish, for him it was so much more.
    “Roll over,” he said in a raspy voice.
    Her gaze held his, then slowly she complied
and rolled onto her back.
    Light hair fanned out beneath her. Her
breasts pressed against the thin cotton of her dress, her nipples
visibly hardening in the slight breeze. He swallowed pushed to his
feet, and moved around the chaise to sit at her side, his hip
brushing hers, his gaze running down the length of her body. “Close
your eyes again.”
    She breathed deep and did as he said. At her
sides, her fingers grasped the edge of the cushion.
    He started gently, running the tips of his
fingers along her bare arms, down and back up again, watching the
slight rise and fall of