Chapter 46

The next morning I wake up to the luxurious sensation of having my feet massaged. It feels so incredible that, for a few seconds, I think I'm dreaming and try to avoid waking up. The feel of strong fingers kneading my foot is all too real, however, and I moan in bliss as each individual toe is rubbed and stroked with just the right amount of pressure.

Opening my eyes, I see Julian sitting on the bed, gloriously naked and holding a bottle of massage oil. Pouring some into his palm, he bends over me and starts massaging my ankles and calves next.

"Good morning," he purrs, looking at me. I stare back at him, mute with surprise. Julian has given me massages in the past, but usually only as a way to relax me before doing something that would make me scream. He's never woken me up in this pleasurable way before.

There is a half-smile on his sensuous lips, and I can't help feeling nervous. "Um, Julian," I say uncertainly, "what . . . what are you doing?"

"Giving you a massage," he says, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Why don't you relax and enjoy it?"

I blink, watching as his hands slowly move up my calves. He has large hands—strong and masculine. My legs look impossibly slender and feminine in his grasp, though I have well-defined muscles from all the running. I can feel the calluses on his palms scratching lightly against my skin, and I swallow, the unbidden thought that those hands belong to a killer entering my mind.

"Turn over," he says, tugging on my legs, and I plop over on my belly, still feeling nervous. What is he up to? I don't like surprises when it comes to Julian.

He starts kneading the back of my legs, unerringly finding the areas most sore from yesterday's race, and I groan as tight muscles begin to loosen up under his skilled fingers. Still, I can't relax completely; Julian is far too unpredictable for my peace of mind.

Apparently sensing my unease, he bends over me and whispers in my ear, "It's just a massage, my pet. No need to be so worried about it."

Somewhat reassured, I let myself relax, sinking into the comfort of my mattress. Julian's hands are magic; I've had professional massages that were nowhere near as good. He's completely attuned to me, paying attention to the slightest change in my breathing, to the most minute twitch in my muscles . . . After several minutes of this, I no longer care about his strange behavior; I'm simply wallowing in the bliss of this experience.

When my entire body has been thoroughly massaged and I'm lying there in limp contentment, Julian stops and shepherds me into the shower. Then he goes down on me, pleasuring me with his mouth until I explode in mind-blowing release.

At breakfast, I'm practically humming with contentment. This is the best morning I've had in months, maybe even years. By some strange coincidence, Beth made my favorite food—Eggs Benedict with crab cakes. I haven't had anything this decadent since my arrival on the island. The food Beth cooks for us is good, but it's usually on the healthy side. Fruits, vegetables, and fish seem to make up the majority of our diet. I can't remember the last time I had something as rich and satisfying as the Hollandaise sauce Beth made today.

"Mmm, this is so good," I moan around a mouthful. "Beth, this is amazing. These are probably the best eggs I've ever had."

She grins at me. "They did come out well, didn't they? I wasn't sure if I got the recipe right, but it seems like I might have."