He warmed more oil between his palms, the vanilla-cocoa scent wrapping around us again as he moved to the head of the table. His strong fingers started at the base of my neck, pressing slow, firm circles that made me sink deeper into the padding. I let out a soft, breathy moan as he worked upward, thumbs gliding along the tight muscles there.

“Good?” he murmured, voice low.

“So good,” I whispered.

He slid his hands forward, over my collarbones, tracing the delicate lines with his ...