“Look at me,” he quietly insisted.
Her gaze drifted up his legs to his torso, stopping to quiver again at the sight of one of his huge hands, resting on the table alongside his thigh, the sheet draped casually over them. She knew all the things that one of those paws was capable of. Even his forearms were laced in muscle and bulk. His abs rippled up to the shelves that were his pecs. By the time she reached his neck, she had determined he resembled a Roman gladiator, having just finished a successful day in the colosseum. One who had slayed any opponent, man or beast, with nothing other than his bare hands; okay, maybe he’d used a stick. She briefly went back to the sheet, knowing full well it was barely covering what in her opinion was his most dangerous weapon. The thought alone was enough to set her pulse racing. She finally reached his eyes and tried not to gasp. His gaze was fixated on her, indomitable and burning.
“How long has this guy been massaging you?” Chase growled preemptively in anticipation of her answer.
“It’s the first time,” she said, feeling her bravado starting to go into a tailspin. “I’ve always used Bobbi in the past.”
“Really?” Chase said blandly, in direct contrast with the vein on the side of his neck that was starting to bulge as his jaw clenched. He honestly didn’t know which was worse. “So you did all of this just to wind me up and set me off?”
“You told me to give it my best shot,” Amanda squeaked, all her nerve officially nose-diving.
“That I did,” he conceded calmly, way too calmly. “Is it my turn now?”
Gulp. He wanted his turn now. He wasn’t supposed to get his turn until later, much later, after he’d cooled down and they were alone. Not waiting for her answer, Chase removed his sheet and stood. Amanda watched his broad back and wonderful, tight buns walk over to where their robes were still hanging. He put his own on, tying the sash tightly before taking her robe off its hook and going back to her. Towering over her, he looked down at her and said quietly. “Stand up, please.”
She immediately did as he bid, trying to bring the sheet with her, feeling both suddenly modest and now like she needed some sort of protection. He had to know the door didn’t have a lock. He pulled the sheet away from her now-sweaty grip, placing it back on the table.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, trying desperately to keep from trembling.
“Arm, please,” he requested, ignoring her question. She held out her arm and he slipped the sleeve of her robe on. He gently brought the rest of the garment around her, helping her into it, his concentration fully on the menial chore.
Then he pulled the sash from the loops on each side of the robe from one side until it was free and in his hands. He brought his eyes back up to hers.
“Hands together, in front of you,” he commanded, no longer courteous or accommodating.
Amanda automatically joined her hands together. Chase took the sash and began to wrap it around her wrists. After wrapping it around them twice, he brought the ends together and held them in one hand, giving a little tug on them. He finally smiled.
“How you feeling about your plan now?” His voice was pure liquid devilry. Satisfied her wrists were secure, he released them. Then he walked back over to the door.
“I’d feel better if I knew what you were going to do,” she confessed after hearing the click. The door had a lock after all.
“I’ll bet you would.” He chuckled, resuming his grasp and gently lifting the ends of the sash until her arms were suspended just over her head. He took a step closer to her, without actually making contact. “As soon as I heard that guy’s voice, I knew what you were about, although I couldn’t believe it. You can take pride in getting the reaction you were looking for. Well played. I wanted to rip this entire room apart. And I think you should thank your lucky stars I don’t have access to my pants, because I was seriously considering how great it would feel to take my belt off, but for now yours will have to do.”
She failed at holding back the gasp this time and blinked up at him, no longer nervous but now increasingly excited. He was actually talking weapons; she had really ticked him off. A spa full of people was now the furthest thing from her mind; her thoughts were now all Chase Walker. She tried to lean in to him, her hands still over her head and he easily evaded her, maintaining full control by her wrists. He brought his mouth near her ear, again careful not to make contact, and whispered, “But then again, making me angry was your purpose for the whole exercise, wasn’t it?”
She couldn’t answer; she was focused on his warm gentle baritone, measured and rhythmic. She knew this voice. It was the one that made her crazy and usually ended in her rapture.
“Which leaves me with a real problem,” he continued in her ear. “You’ve requested a very private punishment in a rather public setting. And because you control me, I have to give you what you want. And don’t worry, angel, you may still get your wish.” He then added, “Although I make no promises as to when.”
What was that? Her pulse quickened again and she pulled her head away from his, trying to focus on him with wide eyes. Did he just say he wasn’t going to spank her?
He laughed a little, wrapping another length of the sash around his knuckles, pulling her closer to him, still without touching her. “I forgot to mention, topping from the bottom usually backfires.”
He waited for her to settle back down before whispering, “By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be begging me to violate you ten ways till Sunday.”
Then he waited for the chill to pass through her before adding, “But until then, I’m not going to touch you. After all, your folks are members here.”
He took a healthy lock of her hair and twirled it around his fingers, careful not to pull. “I love your hair. I’m taken by all of you, but your hair is second to only one other part of you. And although I consider even the tips of your toes mine, there are some parts that are more exclusive than others. Do you know what body part tops that list?”
Chase stepped back from her, lifted her arms a bit higher above her head, and his free hand dipped into her robe, softly grazing the underside of her breast with his fingers. He gently flicked his fingertip against an already taut nipple and he heard her breath catch deep in her throat.
“Okay,” he said, low and husky, his hand moving to her other breast, lightly tracing a circle around it. “I may have lied about the touching, but you’re still going to learn a little lesson about control. Come on, take a guess. What body part will you never ever share with another man again?”
Amanda had to lean back against the massage table. Between his hot breath against her ear, his hand committing a torture of the most feathery kind, and her arms still above her head, she was dizzy enough to actually faint. If it caught him by surprise, she could dislocate a shoulder when she became deadweight. That sort of embarrassment wasn’t out of the question, as her history would dictate.
“I’ve taken the control, all of it. It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” he whispered before lightly biting down on her earlobe. His fingertips brushed faintly between her breasts and down over her navel. She pulled against the restraints on her wrists and spread her legs slightly apart in anticipation and he stopped.
“You may have traumatized a completely competent massage therapist out of his career. At the very least, you took ten years off his life. He looked pretty shaken up. You should feel bad about that.” His fingertips danced a little bit lower.