Page 21 of Prognosis Incompatible

He chuckled. ‘Very good. Lavender, peppermint and the other fragrance is melissa oil — it has a citrus aroma.’

Madeline shut her eyes as Marcus’s fingers probed the muscles of her shoulders and neck. He applied more oil and worked a little deeper and she bit her lip to stop herself from whimpering. ‘And what do you use as a base oil?’ she asked, desperate to convey normality.

‘It depends,’ he said. ‘Lately I’ve been using grape-seed oil.’

She vaguely heard his answer. The effect of his touch was profound and she gave up trying to fight it. The strangest sensations were taking a grip on her body. All her tension oozed from her pores. The longer he kneaded and caressed, the better her head felt. It wasn’t long before the migraine had all but disappeared.

Heat unfurled along her nerves, melting her muscles and dissolving her bones. She felt weightless yet heavy at the same time. Her breasts ached and there was another ache, deep down low, and she pressed her thighs together to get some relief from the steady build-up of pressure.

Simon had never touched her like this. Therapeutically, sexually or otherwise. They’d been engaged for four years and together for ten and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this hot under the collar. When had been the last time they’d been carried away on a wave of passion?

Looking back at their relationship, she had to admit it hadn’t been just the last couple of frantic years when their intimacy had taken a nose-dive. It had never really been based on passion. They’d known each other since kindy and had just kind of fallen into a relationship at university without really realising it.

Simon lost his mother in the first year of med school and she’d been there for him. Having only just lost her own mother to breast cancer, she’d understood his devastation. So they’d started to hang out together and people had started to assume and it had been convenient for two busy med students to not have to worry too much about matters of the heart. And then when Abby had died five years later during her final exams, he’d become her rock.

But, as Marcus’s fingers continued to weave their magic down the length of her spine, Madeline had to wonder what the hell she’d been missing out on! Simon’s touch, his kisses had never been like this. They had been nice rather than passionate, polite rather than magical. But that had been OK.

What did that stuff really matter when you loved someone?

Actually, it had suited her. Secretly, deep down she’d always thought that her profound grief had rendered her incapable of grand passion. It had been hard to get in the mood when sex had seemed unimportant compared to the things she had already lost. But now, lying there as Marcus made her body hum and sing and come alive with a deft touch and a bit of oil, she knew she’d been wrong.

She was sexual. She did have needs. Sex mattered.

A lot!

The thought was depressing as all giddy up. Here she was, nearly naked on her bed with a man she barely knew who was creating complete and utter havoc inside her, and there wasn’t anyone she could turn to. What would Veronica say?

Turn over right now and let him massage your front.

She bit her lip. She couldn’t do it. It just wasn’t her. But as she gave herself up to the kneading and the stroking and the rubbing, a blissful euphoria enveloped her, lulling her into a deep relaxing slumber. And a little piece of the ice around her heart started to thaw. Marcus had started a flame, a tiny spark of heat, and each rub of his fingers fanned it a little higher.

It took Marcus several minutes to realise that Maddy had fallen asleep. He was way too busy concentrating on coaxing the deep knots of tension out of her neck and shoulders. Too busy pretending she was Mrs Furness — a rather sour lady who had made his professional life very unpleasant on the occasions that he had been unlucky enough to see her.

He figured if he could just keep picturing this awful woman he wouldn’t be tempted to replace his hands with his mouth. He wouldn’t lick and suck at her small earlobes, taunting him through the tumble of her glorious hair. He wouldn’t kiss her neck and turn her over and show her passion that would make her forget all about her fiancé.

Because she was out of bounds. Way, way out of bounds.

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The digital clock readfive minutes to five when Madeline woke. She felt slightly disorientated in the darkened room and rolled onto her back, sighing loudly.

Marcus came into her line of vision. He was sitting silently in one of the chairs from the lounge room, deeply engrossed in a book. His head snapped up at her movement.

‘Marcus?’ she asked, momentarily puzzled by his presence. Her migraine had gone but the all-too-familiar after-effects had taken its place. Her brain was fuzzy, all her thought processes seemed jumbled and she felt totally sapped.

‘Good evening, Maddy. Feeling better?’

His chirpy mood grated on her recovering nerves. Memories of the massage and her body’s reaction to it came back. ‘I feel fine, thank you. And thank you for staying but there was no need. You can now.’

She went to sit up and then remembered she was naked except for her knickers. A blush stole up her face and she hoped that Marcus couldn’t see it through the gloom. Now she was awake and the memories were flooding back, she was acutely embarrassed by the intimate nature of their afternoon.

‘So I’m dismissed, am I?’ One black eyebrow rose slightly as an amused smile played on his lips.

He made her sound churlish and Madeline turned redder still. ‘I’m grateful,’ she said, forcing the tremor from her voice. ‘Really I am. But I don’t need to be babysat.’

It was weird, talking to a fully clothed Marcus as the sheets slid seductively across her bare flesh, grazing her nipples and making her acutely aware of her state of undress. He was two metres away. In her bedroom.

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do or say.

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