LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter 6

      “You can change in here,” Layla said, opening a door to a small changing space that included a locker, a bench for sitting and a hook for hanging clothes. “It’s not the Ritz but it’s cozy,” she added with a smile.

      Maurice offered a half grin. “It’s more than fine. Thanks.”

      “When you’re done, walk straight down this short hall to the steam room.” She indicated the direction to her right. “I’ll have it all set up for you.” She turned and the saloon door swung closed behind her. As she walked toward the steam room all she could think about was that gorgeous man was in the process of taking off his clothes, and the next time that she set eyes on him, there would be not much between them other than a white towel…of surrender, her sex-starved brain whispered. Goose bumps shimmied up her arms.

      Layla shook off the tempting visual and hurried into the steam room that housed three spaces for clients. She selected the room on the end and set the temperature, made sure that there were towels and water. She came out and shut the door behind her. When she turned Maurice was standing in front of her and they both heard her gasp.

      “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

      She ran her tongue nervously across her lips. “It’s nothing…really. Just a little jumpy today for some reason.” In a nanosecond her gaze licked across his face to his muscular bare chest, to the tight stomach, to the hidden gems behind the white towel and down to his legs and back up again. She swallowed. “Your room is ready.”

      “Thanks.”

      “You can adjust the temperature if you need to. Everything is set for ten minutes. Press the red button on the wall and the steam will start.”

      He nodded his head.

      She took two steps back. “Shout if you need me…for anything.”

      “I will.” His eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled at her.

      “Okay. Good.” She took two more back steps then spun away before she really made an idiot out of herself. She had the clarity of mind to point herself in the direction of the massage room. Once inside she sat down on the low-slung chair and dropped her face into her palms. What in the world was wrong with her? Her entire self was behaving as if she’d never been in the presence of a sexy man before. She couldn’t think straight, her heart was racing a mile a minute, and every other word out of her mouth was laced with a sexual undertone. Pushing out an exasperated breath she stood and began preparing the room for her client. This was business, she continued to remind herself as she set out towels, an extra robe, and lit the oil burners to scent the room. She put on a CD that captured the hypnotic sounds of rainfall and the rush of waves against the shore. She checked her watch. Maurice had about three minutes. She dimmed the lighting and went to check on her client.

      When she returned to the steam room, Maurice was already out. She could hear the shower water running and her imagination shifted into overdrive. As clear as a spring morning she could see him beyond the frosted glass doors in the outfit that the Lord had given him…long, hard, sleek and drenched in milk chocolate.

      The rushing water of the shower stopped. She could clearly hear him humming a soft tune now. Her heart thumped. She couldn’t just stand there like a dummy. But what if he came out with nothing on for instance? Not even the towel. But her feet were stuck on the wood floors.

      The frosted glass door swung open. Maurice was securing the towel around his waist. He glanced up. His entire body still glistened from the heat and the water and for a moment Layla refused to breathe, certain that if she did it would disturb the delicate balance between them.

      “Oh, hey there. All done.” He used the end of the towel that was draped around his neck to wipe his face.

      Layla pushed out a breath. “Great. We can get your massage started.” She turned on her heels and walked back in the direction of the massage room. She could feel the heat of Maurice’s body wrapping itself around her from behind. The massage room was up ahead. She opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit interior. Immediately she busied herself with arranging oils and cloths. Anything to keep her eyes off of Maurice.

      “Is the room comfortable enough?”

      “Fine.”

      “You can get up on the table. If you loosen the towel and turn on your stomach we can get started.” She looked away as he loosened his towel and then stretched out on the massage table.

      Layla walked around to the head of the table. “I want to make sure that you’re comfortable. Stretch your arms down your sides, palms up and rest your forehead in the opening of the headrest. Get comfortable.”

      Maurice followed her instructions. “Good?” he asked, his voice muffled by the cushion of the head support.

      “Perfect. I’m going to begin with a light full-body massage and then a deeper tissue stimulation. I’ll be using a variety of oils. If I’m applying too much pressure or you feel uncomfortable please let me know. If there is an area on your body that you want me to devote special attention, let me know that as well.”

      “Hmm, ummm,” he mumbled.

      Layla poured some oil onto her palm and rubbed her hands briskly together. For a moment she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Slowly she lowered her hands to his shoulders. Her hands splayed across the heat of his flesh. Her thumbs pressed and connected with hard muscle, and his rugged sigh made her own spine tingle. She forced herself to concentrate on what she did so well—bring heaven to earth through her touch.

      She covered every exposed inch of his body with her hands, infusing into every sinew the heat of release. Her trained hands moved down his back, up again and across his wide shoulders. She kneaded his arms, and she’d swear that she heard him almost whimper in rapture when she stroked the inside of his palms.

      Applying more oils onto her hands, she started on the odyssey of his upper thighs and then took a slow trip down along his calves to the soles of his feet and back up again. She lingered for a moment along the thick scar that ran like a river down his right leg from above his knee to his midcalf. She felt his body tighten and his easy breathing hitch when her fingertips came in contact with the thickened tissue. But under her gentle manipulations she heard his breathing level off and the tension dissipate.

      The soft candlelight bounced off his glistening dark skin, casting enticing shadows along the dips and curves of his body. Layla drew in a slow breath separating his natural scent from that of the oils. A smile of satisfaction teased her mouth.

      She let her lids lower to almost closing as she worked. She loved what she did, bringing pleasure and relief to others through the skill of her touch. But this was different. She’d always been able to remain detached from her clients. She simply read their body needs through the tips of her fingers and gave the body what it desired. But this time it was her body that was in need, her body that longed to be touched.

      Without effort or apparent intent Maurice had awakened her sleeping sexual giant. And it needed to be fed. The pulse between her thighs quickened. A fire lit in her belly. Heat infused her. Her breathing escalated. She saw herself standing before him. Her robe

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