Irresistibly Exotic Men: Bed of Lies / Falling For Dr Dimitriou / Her Little Spanish Secret

“But it hurts!”

“Stop being a baby.” She pushed him down and tried again, this time easing back on the pressure.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” he accused.

“I’m trying to get the tension out, so yes, I am.”

She went as softly as she could, warming up his muscles. She had to hand it to him, he managed to bite his tongue even though a few grunts made their way through his tight control.

“Do you get migraines?” she asked.

“No.”

“Panic attacks?”

“You think I get—”

“Performance problems?”

“No.”

She bit her lip, swallowing a chuckle at his indignant reply. “Lucky. They’re all symptoms of a high-stress environment.”

Luke stifled another groan. She was good. In fact, if they gave Oscars for massage, she’d win hands down. She had handfuls of his muscle and used pressure from thumbs, palms and all fingers.

“So how is it,” she began, digging deep into his back, “that some lucky woman hasn’t already snapped you up?”

A slice of memory twinged, but he thrust it back. “A demanding career and relationships don’t mix.”

“That’s a bit of a broad statement. Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman.”

“Trust me, I know.” He grunted, swallowing a groan as she shifted her hands. “And I meet plenty of women.”

“I see.”

She continued in silence, and pride demanded he keep it that way, but when she caught a particularly tight spot, a hiss escaped his clenched teeth. And through the somewhat painful movements, he could feel himself getting aroused.

It was the thought of her standing over him, touching him with her firm, skilled hands that stirred his blood.

Then she reached his shoulders and silence flew out the window with a ragged gasp.

“You’re pretty tight up here,” she said, concern threading her voice.

Luke muttered something and tried to shake off the pleasant fantasy of Beth naked and massaging him all over. She shifted to stand at the head of the table, her body bent forward over his shoulders while her palms stretched and rubbed down his left arm. Her toes came into view—long, elegant digits with nails painted a soft coral, strapped into well-worn sandals. He also noticed that her second toes were longer than her big ones and the one on the left bore a silver ring with a green stone in the center.

Sucking on those toes would be …

He squeezed his eyes shut as she dug around for such long, agonizing seconds that he wondered if his circulation would cut out. Finally, she took pity on him, easing off until he relaxed with barely disguised relief.

“You should do this more often. It’ll hurt less.” She gently squeezed his trapezius and was rewarded with a sharp hiss. “See what I mean?”

He grunted.

Beth patted his shoulder. “Don’t try to talk. I know it’s a big effort holding all that groaning in.”

“I’m trying to maintain a dignified silence.”

She chuckled, bending close to his ear. “You don’t have to. Let it all out.”

Her whispery breath sent a shock of heat to his groin. Now all he could think of were their sweaty bodies, Beth groaning beneath him. And above him. All he could feel was the soft brush of her cotton shirt against his hair. And her hands touching every part of him. He itched to reach out and grab a handful of her luscious, rounded butt.

She was driving him crazy, as if punishing him for something.

He felt punished. It was retribution for letting the past weeks build up, for not seeking professional help sooner, just like Beth said.

She walked around the table, returning to his lower back, fingers trailing across his skin. Lust tensed him up. She must have felt it because she said, “No, no. Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Tighten your lower back. Here.” Her hands began to knead the troubled spot. Luke groaned. It was a different kind of pain this time. His tight groin pressed unbearably against the unyielding table while his mind ran riot. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“You finished yet?” He finally got out.

“Hang on, I’ve still got to—”

“Thanks. That’s okay.” He pulled himself up, grabbed his shirt and yanked it over his head.

After a moment’s fumbling with the lower buttons, he took a breath, then another, before he got his body under control. And now with his untucked shirt hiding any lingering evidence, he turned back to face her. She looked astonished and confused while he ached uncomfortably. Dammit.

“I should go and get a shower.” Yet he made no attempt to leave.

“Okay.” Beth wiped her hands on a towel and tried not to let her disappointment show. He was uptight again and that pretty much kicked all her good work out the window.

She glanced at him, intending only to linger a moment but instead ended up staring. A faint sheen of sweat hugged the shirt to his chest, a chest sprinkled with dark hair that tapered down until the buttons hindered her view.

The breath she swallowed dried her throat.

He was a very large, very muscular man in a pair of crisply cut pants and a creased shirt that probably cost more than a week’s wages.

A dark, dangerous-looking man now focused right in on her as if she was some kind of last meal, the musky smell of his sweat and a faint, woodsy aftershave mingling with her oils.

“Beth?”

“Yes?” Her voice came out as an unfamiliar croak.

“If you’re going to stop me, do it now because I’m about to break rule number two.”

She swallowed as he took those few steps toward her, reached out and slowly tugged her to him, giving her time to protest. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She could pull away if she wanted, but resistance felt as appealing as wading through a pool of honey. It was as if he had her hypnotized and all she could do was let him drag his fingers through her hair. Sweep his thumbs over her jaw.