She snorted out a laugh. “Oh please. Like I could pick only five.”
“I knew I liked you.” His hands smoothed back down to her shoulders, working magic. “This robe is so soft . . . it’s nice. But it’s kind of in the way. So, um . . . you wearing anything underneath? I’m thinking it’d be easier to just massage your skin.”
Without a word, she undid the knot of the robe and let it slide off her shoulders. She heard his breath catch as her dusky purple negligee was revealed to him. Wanting to see his reaction, she turned her head to peek over her shoulder. The mesmerized look on his face made it worth it. “For you,” she whispered.
“Jesus,” he murmured, his eyes locked on her body encased in silk. He fingered one spaghetti strap over her shoulder. “My God . . .” He licked his lips as his eyes traveled over her body. “I have a confession to make.” His hand ran slowly down her bare arm, then up again. His eyes met hers and held. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’ve always thought that. From the moment I first saw you. That’s the God’s honest truth.”
“Wow.” She turned a little more to better meet his now hungry gaze. “Thank you. I’m very, very flattered.”
“You’re very, very beautiful.” His hands skimmed up her arms, then turned her away from him to resume his massage. As he rubbed her shoulders, he cleared his throat. “That nightie is stunning on you. I can’t wait to peel you out of it.”
She smiled brightly, mentally congratulating herself. “Glad you like it.”
“Like it? Full disclosure: I’m totally turned on right now. You take my breath away, Tess.”
Her breath hitched, but she managed to say, “Good to know.”
“Yeah, well . . . all we have to do now is get you a little more relaxed . . .” His warm, powerful hands were so gentle on her skin, Tess couldn’t believe it. “So. You can’t pick only five, fair enough. I don’t think I can either. So just tell me some of your favorites.”
Her mind was cloudy with growing desire; it took her a few seconds to figure out what he was talking about. Oh, Beatles songs. Right. Okay. “‘Blackbird,’” she started. His fingers kneaded the muscles in her neck. “Um . . . ‘I Will.’ ‘Julia.’ ‘She Came In Through the Bathroom Window.’ ‘Across the Universe.’ ‘Paperback Writer.’ ‘Taxman.’ ‘She’s Leaving Home.’ ‘Two of Us.’”
“Ohh, ‘Two of Us’ is an all-time fave song of mine, period. Excellent choice.” Logan’s hands never ceased or strayed from her neck and shoulders. She was turning to putty. “Those are all good ones, ma’am. You’re a true fan. I approve.”
“Are the Beatles your favorite group?” she asked.
“One of them,” he said. His fingers stroked her skin without demand, giving nothing but tenderness. She felt like she was slowly melting into a big, pleasured pile of goo. “I like classic rock best. Mainly from the sixties and seventies, some eighties. Not much after, say, Pearl Jam and Soundgarden. Guess I’m a bit of a throwback.”
“Thor is an old-school rock god,” she teased. “I can see that being your style.”
“What do you listen to?”
“A little of everything . . .”
They talked about music for a while, her back to him, his hands comforting on her skin and his deep voice soothing in her ear. She gazed at the fire and felt herself loosen up; he successfully calmed her body and distracted and quieted her mind. By the time he gently eased her back against his chest, she was totally comfortable.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Like a warm puddle of mush,” she replied. “You’re good at this. You’re a genius, actually. I’m completely relaxed now.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“And then some.”
“Great. But you’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?” His voice, low and playful, vibrated from his chest against her back as his arms slipped slowly around her.