another step down, grasping the railing with one hand, her other searching along the wall trying to find the–
“Got it!” She flicked the switch, and the soft glow from the lights above led her down the stairs.
“Lights off!” The harsh male voice startled her, and she tumbled down a few stairs barely able to contain her giggles. “Carrie!”
“I’m...I’m sorry.” She regained her balance and composure. “It’s not Carrie. It’s Martina.”
“Please turn off the light.” His voice was weak, strained.
Did he suffer from migraines? She had heard that light could sometimes be a nuisance to people with headaches.
She scrambled up the steps and flicked the switch, the room plunging into total darkness.
“Thank you.” He exhaled heavily.
Once again, she made her way to the bottom, this time with no accidents. Luckily, she’d gotten a peek at the layout of the room before the lights went out. She stepped along the soft carpeting and searched for the couch.
“Carrie said I could sleep in the bedroom down here. Too many drinks.”
“It’s to your left.”
“Do you always get headaches?” The question flew out before she could stop it. She didn’t know why she asked, but she wanted desperately for this man to no longer be in pain. It was her calling. It was the reason why she was going to California.
“Yes. Please, stop talking. It makes it worse.”
“I can help.”
Nothing but a heavy sigh.
“I’m a... Crap!” She crashed into an end table, the lamp teetering from side to side. She steadied it with her hand while she giggled. “I’m a holistic practitioner. I’d like to try something to help if you’ll let me.”
“Will you be quiet?”
“Yes. I promise. No talking while I’m working.”
She came in contact with the couch and pawed her way along until her hands finally found his body. He tensed under her touch. She continued up his leg to his tight-muscled thigh, knowing exactly when to retract. Although a skim over his manhood might be exciting, it was definitely not professional.
Settling in front of the couch, she sat back on her legs and reached out to find his hands. They rested on his chest. She took one hand in hers and kneaded his fingers from tip to knuckle. He moaned. Not a pleasurable moan.
“It might hurt for the first couple of minutes,” she whispered into the darkness.
Back and forth she massaged, from one hand to the next. His body relaxed as time went on. She felt it by the weight of his hand in hers. Martina wished she had some lavender oil or even peppermint to help soothe him.
“What are you doing to me?”
“Shhh. No talking.”
She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she could see the outline of his body. He was big. Not fat but broad. His hard chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his breathing. His hands were rough and calloused. Maybe he was a laborer. Maybe he was an athlete.
After a half-hour with his hands, she gently rubbed his temples. She knew her technique was right. The part of her brain that practiced reflexology seemed dead-on despite being clouded by the large consumption of alcohol swimming in her veins. But the more she touched his bare skin, the hotter she got. The more sweet-sounding sighs that escaped from his mouth, the faster her heart raced.
She blamed it on the alcohol and girl talk. A lethal combination. All that talk about adventurous sex had her aching between the legs. Her hyper-sexual thoughts couldn’t be due to the way he’d stared at her from across the room with brown eyes burning a hole straight through her. It definitely couldn’t be the way his voice touched her insides, stirring up sexual urges she was so eager to indulge.
Rob just happened to be the man in closest proximity. If she touched any man right now she would be thinking the same thing.
So, why didn’t she believe that?
She shook the thought out of her head and focused again on the task at hand. She was a professional. His well-being was the main priority. She had to push aside her desire and rein in her horny thoughts.
By the sound of his steady breathing, she knew he had fallen asleep. Sleep. Sleep was a good idea, but Martina disliked the night time.
The same dream had clouded her slumber for the last two years. She couldn’t understand the meaning, other than to continue on her path. She figured when she found peace, settled into the life she had always wanted, the figure would stop running. Martina would stop chasing. Until that day, Mac was her motivation. The ghost from her past telling her to keep moving.
She rested her arms on the edge of the couch cushion and lowered her head. She just needed to get her bearings and wait for the room to stop spinning. Two minutes and she would search in the dark for the warmth of a blanket and soft mattress.
* * * *
Rob eased his eyes open. He felt relaxed, comfortable and most importantly, no longer in pain.
Martina. Martina had showed up and did some kind of voodoo magic with her hands. Did voodoo work on migraines?
She was pretty drunk. He remembered that. She’d stumbled all over the place until she finally found the couch and used his body as a crutch. He was glad when she decided to stop short of his crotch. No doubt a raging hard-on would have put a crimp in the moment.
There was a soft scent lingering in the air. Something fresh and flowery. Something different. Not the usual scent he associated with his sister or even Amie. He shifted his position and bumped his arm into something. A head? He extended his hand, trying to distinguish in the dark.
Immediately he was hard again. Just the thought of Martina sleeping beside him had his heart beating faster. He chalked up his sudden burst of sexual need to the fact that he knew she wanted a good screw. A normal reaction for a man.
She didn’t look comfortable. If he carried her to the bed he could use the bathroom then return to the couch. He scooted to the end of the couch and settled on his feet. Not one sting of pain. Not one throb behind his eyes. She really did work magic.
Laying her upper body against his arm, he grabbed her legs and lifted. She was deadweight. As he carried her to the bedroom, her head fell over his arm and he heard a quiet gurgle escape from her mouth. There was no way she was waking up any time soon.
When he laid her down he tried to get a look at her up close. It was too dark but he knew she wasn’t wearing the white lingerie anymore. He tucked her under the covers then quickly used the bathroom. As he stepped out, the light cast a soft glow over the room and illuminated her figure. She had a tiny smear of black makeup around her eye, and her hair was out of place. That made her all the more beautiful.
He never did get to devise his plan of seduction. Not that he was a master of seduction. He never had to be. Women just seemed to always be around, especially with Aleks in the vicinity.
“Mac!” Martina’s frantic voice caught his attention. “Mac! Wait!”
She thrashed around in the bed. What was he supposed to do? She didn’t look frightened, but he definitely didn’t like the fact that she was dreaming about another man. Mac.
Rob approached the bed and laid a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her. “Martina?” He shook a little harder. “Martina? Wake up.”
“Mac?”
“No. It’s not Mac. It’s Rob.”
“Rob?” She still had her eyes closed and softly sighed. “Rob?” She bolted upright, knocking his hand away.
“You were having a dream.”
“How