Page 65 of Unwilling Vow (Mafia Marriages 4)

I turn to face the door, giving Olivia her privacy while she disrobes. There’s a soft thud of the fabric hitting the floor and the rustle of the sheet as she covers herself. “How am I supposed to lie on this table?” she asks.

“On your side,” I suggest. “I have some special pillows so that we can use to make sure you’re comfortable.” I wait to turn around. “Do you want me to grab them for you?”

I hear the soft creak of the massage bed and the jostling of sheets as Olivia climbs onto the massage table.

“Okay, I’m well, decent. I mean, I’m naked, but you can turn around.”

She sounds nervous.

I can’t hide the wide grin on my face, even if I wanted. “You look pretty decent to me.” She’s lying on the table on her side, the sheet covering her body.

I reach for a pillow, offering it to her to make herself more comfortable.

“Thanks,” she says. “Do you have another pillow for my head?”

“Planning on taking a nap?” I tease. I grab a pillow from the bed and bring it to her, helping her get comfortable. “Better?”

“Much.”

I step around the massage table so that I’m behind her. “Sorry if my hands are cold,” I warn before grazing her skin with the lightest of touches.

My fingers caress her shoulders, and she slinks down into the pillow, holding it against her chest as she shimmies the sheet down her back, letting me get a more intimate glance at her back and the curve just before her perfect ass.

This should be off-limits, giving a full body massage to your employee.

Her skin is porcelain and creamy, speckled with a dusting of freckles that matches her nose.

I squeeze a generous amount of massage oil into my hands and rub them together before letting my hands work on her shoulders and back.

The soft, supple sigh of content falls from her lips.

“Is that okay? Is it too much pressure?” I ask, wanting her to enjoy the massage and not feel like I’m hurting her.

There’s a slight moan as she shifts subtly on the massage table. I presume she’s trying to get comfortable.

“No, you’re fine. It’s good,” she says as she hugs the pillow to her chest, hiding her breasts from my view.

What I wouldn’t give to be that pillow nestled up against her body, hugging her curves.

This is supposed to be about her, though, not my needs. I may need to get laid, but Olivia needs sleep. And me sporting a hard-on while massaging her isn’t going to do either one of us any good.

Thankfully, she’s facing the opposite direction.

“I hope this is helping you relax,” I say as I massage her shoulders and down her back.

Her body seems to relax beneath my touch, and the tension that I initially felt dissipates. Whether it was nerves from me giving her a massage or it’s helping her unwind, I can’t tell the difference.

Olivia mumbles something unintelligible into the pillow as she clutches it against her chest.

“What’s that?”

“I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. Your hands are amazing,” she says.

I want to show her how amazing I can make her feel, but she has to tell me I’m what she wants. I won’t cross that line without her explicit permission.

My touch is feather-light and gentle, grazing up her neck as I sweep her hair up and pin it to her head with one hand. The other hand teases along her jaw. “So, I’ve been told,” I joke. I want to kiss her, but I don’t. It’s not out of fear. There’s little, I fear. It’s a matter of respect.

She rolls onto her back, clutching the pillow, keeping herself hidden from me. Her long lashes flutter as she stares up at me. Her cheeks are rosy, her blue eyes dark. “Don’t laugh.”

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