‘What is it? Do I have to snort it, swallow it or inject it?’
He laughed. ‘None of the above. It’s massage oil. I apply it. Roll on your tummy,’ he ordered.
Even through her drug-induced, disorientated haze, Madeline had enough wits to know that she would be entering dangerous waters if she allowed him to do this. The strange pull she felt around him hadn’t been obliterated by the migraine, just buried a little.
And a massage in her bedroom, on her bed...
She stared at him and tried to fathom how he didn’t seem worried about the intimacy of the situation. Was she the only one that felt the weird energy between them? The...thing...that she’d felt from the moment she’d seen him on the skateboard?
‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ she said huskily.
‘Come on, Maddy, I mixed a secret potion.’ He grinned. ‘I know you don’t believe in any of this but at least give it a go. It works. Really it does.’
So she was the only one that felt it?
He looked strictly professional. No indication that they were anything other than practitioner and client. Her head was too sore to try and figure it out. Thump, thump, thump. It pulsated with painful regularity. She doubted seriously whether a massage would help but...what if he was right?
‘OK,’ she agreed, desperate enough to try anything as she shifted gingerly onto her stomach.
‘I’ll look away while you take your shirt off,’ he said. ‘Use the sheet to cover up.’
Madeline raised herself on her elbows and looked back over her shoulder at him. ‘I don’t think so.’
Marcus sighed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I need full access to your neck and shoulders. I can’t give you a proper therapeutic massage through your shirt. I am one hundred per cent professional whether you think so or not. I don’t come on to women under the guise of my work and I certainly don’t come on to women who are engaged! Ever.’
Normally Madeline would have been mortified to have insulted anyone — she was just too polite. But the thought of him touching her was sending her hormones into a chaotic scramble. Marcus looked insulted that she had questioned his ethics but, seriously, the thought was as terrifying as it was irresistible.
He turned his back and she quickly divested herself of her shirt, pulling the sheet up around her, her feet sticking out either side.
‘Ready,’ she said.
Marcus turned back, still miffed that she would doubt his professional boundaries. Ok, this wasn’t a doctor-patient relationship, but there was a line you just didn’t cross in these situations.
Madeline lay stiffly, her breathing ragged, waiting for the touch of his fingers on her neck. She heard him rubbing the oil between his hands and her shoulders tensed, waiting for the incoming caress. So when he gently stroked her feet she almost leapt off the bed.
Energy arced through her, electrifying every cell in her body as if she’d just been plugged into a power point. Her body hummed with the intensity of a city grid.
How on earth was this going to help her headache?
‘Relax, Maddy, it’s OK,’ he crooned quietly. ‘I thought I’d start with a reflexology massage of your feet. Did you know there are certain pressure points on the soles of the feet that correspond to certain parts of the body?’
‘No hocus-pocus, you promised,’ she accused, her voice muffled from being buried in the pillow as she tried not to moan out loud.
He chuckled. ‘Such a sceptic. Okay — no attempts at conversion. Forget the science behind it. How about you just enjoy it because it feels fantastic?’
Well, she couldn’t argue with him there and she bit down on her lip to stop herself audibly groaning as his deft fingers probed and rubbed her feet. He seemed to linger and concentrate on some areas, particularly her big toes, but wherever his fingers roamed they left devastation of cyclonic proportions to her equilibrium. He lavished equal attention on both feet and although Madeline would never have admitted it, she could feel the intensity of the migraine beginning to ebb.
He stopped after twenty minutes and Madeline stifled a protest. It wouldn’t do at all to have him think she actually wanted him to continue.
‘Thank you, that was most kind,’ she said in a small prim voice, masking her inner turmoil as she dragged her scattered wits together and tried to withdraw her leg from his grasp.
He chuckled and placed a stilling hand on her calf. ‘The best is yet to come.’
Madeline shook her head, alarmed that he was going to wreak further havoc on her equilibrium. ‘No, it’s all right. I’m feeling better now.’ She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. ‘I just need to sleep it off now.’
‘Shh,’ he whispered, placing two fingers against his lips.
Madeline’s pupils dilated as she followed the movement. The desire to feel his fingers on her lips, to suck them into her mouth and taste the beautifully aromatic oil, was shocking. She didn’t understand where such a thought even came from. She’d never felt so out of control of her own body until meeting Marcus.
‘Lie down, Maddy,’ he ordered gently.
She was quite the conundrum, was Madeline Harrington. Why did a beautiful, desirable woman look so perplexed by a man’s touch? Surely her fiancé touched her all the time?
He would if that was his ring on her finger.
Marcus felt her tense as he slid his hands into her hair, gathering the loose tendrils together to push it off her neck. The scent of her shampoo wafted towards him - frangipani and cinnamon – and Marcus fought the urge to bury his face in her beautiful locks.
He was moving into dangerous territory. The look she’d just given him had been heavy with desire and he knew he was walking a very fine line between therapeutic and something else entirely different. Something that could get him struck off had she been a patient.
But she wasn’t.
Madeline practically heard the oil sizzle as it landed on the heated flesh of her shoulders. She definitely heard his breathing as his fingers stroked gently through the liquid. Was she mistaken or was it as uneven as hers?
Lavender filled the air with its sweet fragrance. There were other fragrances as well that she couldn’t place and she cleared the huskiness from her throat.
‘What’s in the oil?’ she asked. She prided herself on sounding almost normal. This was good. This was what she needed. A little conversation to distract her from the traitorous pulse of her body.
‘Guess,’ he said, and slowly ran two glistening fingers under her nose and along her top lip.
Madeline almost moaned out loud and the temptation to suck them inside her mouth was so real she ground her toes into the bed to stop herself.
She swallowed. ‘Well, there’s lavender, of course, but it smells a bit minty, too? And there’s something else...I don’t know what.’
He chuckled. ‘Very good. Lavender, peppermint and the other fragrance is melissa oil — it has a citrus aroma.’
Madeline shut her eyes as Marcus’s fingers probed the muscles of her shoulders and neck. He applied more oil and worked a little deeper and she bit her lip to stop herself from whimpering. ‘And what do you use as a base oil?’ she asked, desperate to convey normality.
‘It depends,’ he said. ‘Lately I’ve been using grape-seed oil.’