Page 80 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘Yes.’

‘We’ll go to my room.’

‘What’s wrong with here?’

‘Have you ever had a sports massage?’

‘No.’

‘It’s far from sensual—and, believe me, I would fall off that little bed.’

He was so tall and wide she believed him.

‘Fine,’ she said.

And then she was being carried into his bedchamber, although on less sensual terms than she’d hoped. Certainly the poems she’d read hadn’t prepared her for this.

He lowered her onto his bed and it was like falling into a cloud and being caught by angels.

‘Your bed...’ She sighed, but then her eyes narrowed. ‘Shouldn’t I be on a firm surface?’

‘If you prefer, we can go on the floor—though I have found my bed has always sufficed.’

She felt jealous, wondering how many beauties had massaged his aches away right here, and wondering even more so as he reached to the bedside table and poured some oil into a dish.

‘Is that your sex oil?’

‘It’s just oil,’ Sahir corrected, taking off her towel, and instructing her to roll onto her stomach.

She was relieved that she had managed to get her knickers on.

‘I’ve told you. I come here only to reflect.’

Violet wanted to verify if that meant he’d never brought a lover here. If that meant she was the first woman in this bed. But she decided it wasn’t the time to ask.

He was being very formal.

Very much the Sahir she had first met.

‘It might hurt a bit,’ he told her.

‘Okay.’

He started low on her neck and shoulders and it was far from sensual. His hands were almost rough as they worked on the knots. Then deftly he worked on her torso, and either side of her spine. Then he focussed on her tailbone for what seemed like for ever.

‘Ow!’

‘I know...’

Sahir closed his eyes, took a breath and found he was very grateful for his teachings—because he knew when he opened his eyes his voice would be stern as he told her to turn, and he was confident his features would be impassive.

She was slippery and warm as he turned her, and then his oiled hands came to her calves and her inner thighs, and he tried not to look at her breasts.

He even lifted her leg, like a physiotherapist, bending it at the knee and then doing the same with the other.

‘Your hips are tight,’ he said.

‘Yes.’

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