Page 57 of Dream With Me (With Me in Seattle 13)

“What do you miss the most?”

His green eyes soften. “’Tis a magical land, Ireland. You’ll hear stories of faeries and ghosts. Legends. All true, of course. When you walk those green hills, sprinkled with bluebells and columbine, and wander among ruins of castles that have been there for a thousand years or more, you can’t help but feel the magic of it. It sinks into your soul, it does, and it’s an ache that sits within you until you’re able to go back again.”

The sorrow in his words brings tears to my eyes. “You love it.”

“Very much.”

I lean my head on his shoulder again and watch the waves crash on the wet sand below us. Kane kisses my head, and we sit in silence.

“What were you daydreaming about earlier?” he asks quietly.

“Living here,” I confess on a heavy sigh. “I thought that if I didn’t have my business and family in Seattle, I’d pack right up and move here. Sell cakes in that adorable little town, and live on the water.”

“It’s a lovely place,” he says. “It’s glad I am that you’re enjoying it.”

“Very much.” I set my empty latte cup aside and turn to snuggle him. “This is my new favorite place.”

“We’ll come often, then.” He kisses my nose. “As often as you like.”

“I’m a spoiled woman.”

“Treasured,” he corrects me. “And it’s as it should be.”* * *“Oh, God, yes.”

I clap my hands in excitement the next morning. After we took our time waking up and wandered down for a delicious breakfast, Kane informed me that we’re about to get a couple’s massage.

“I haven’t had a massage in months. I need it.”

“It’ll probably feel good on your shoulder,” Kane says as someone knocks on the door.

“They’re coming here?”

“Of course.” He opens the door and frowns when a man and a woman walk into the room, both carrying tables and supplies.

“Good morning, Mr. O’Callaghan,” the woman says. “I’m Nell, and this is Charlie. We’ll be your therapists today.”

“We can do this a couple of ways,” Charlie continues and turns to me. “Miss, do you prefer a man or a woman therapist?”

“Um, well—”

“Both of you can go,” Kane says, shocking the hell out of me.

“What?”

“I’ve changed my mind.” Kane shakes his head. “But please leave one of the tables and the oil.”

“Sir, I don’t think—” Nell begins, but Charlie holds a hand up, stopping her.

“We were told to do whatever you wish, so that’s fine. I’ll set the table up for you, and you can just call down when you’re finished, and I’ll come back to collect it.”

Charlie and Nell quickly set up the table, drape linens on top, and set oil on a side table. When they’ve left, Kane turns to me.

“What in the world has gotten into you?” I ask.

“There was no way in hell that man was going to put his hands on you,” he says, walking slowly toward me. “And call me stupid, but I’m not a fan of a man rubbing me down, either.”

“So you just kicked him out?”

“Yes.” His green eyes are steady on mine, and when he reaches me, he pulls the belt of my robe loose and lets it drop to the floor. The robe parts, exposing my naked flesh beneath it. “Get on the table, Anastasia.”

“You’re going to massage me?”

“I am.” He peels the robe down my arms and watches boldly as I pull back the sheet and lay on the table, my face in the cradle.

I take a deep breath and smile to myself when I hear the gas fireplace coming to life.

“I don’t want you to get cold.” Kane exposes my back, down to the top of my ass, and then his hands are on me, strong and sure, gliding up and down my back in long, firm strokes.

“Oh, man, that feels good. Have I told you that I love your hands?”

“I don’t think you have, no. But my hands are rough. I probably shouldn’t be doing this to you.”

“They feel good,” I assure him. “That feels especially wonderful on my low back.”

He hangs out there, kneading the muscles firmly, and I’m pretty sure I’m either going to fall asleep or have an orgasm, it feels so damn good.

And just when I think it can’t get better, he moves up to my neck and shoulders. Kane is gentle around my injured shoulder, careful not to move it too much. Still, the light kneading around my shoulder blade and neck on that side feels absolutely amazing.

“No other man gets to hear you make that noise,” he says casually.

“What noise?”

“Those light moans. Sighs.” His hand glides down my spine, and I let out a long breath. “That. Those sounds are mine.”

He pushes the sheet farther down my ass, exposing more of my flesh, and starts to knead my glutes.

“He doesn’t get to see this, how the goose flesh appears on your skin when I touch you. Or these dimples here, just above this fantastic ass you have.”

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