His Cabin Obsession Wants Book 195) Page 4

  Olivia does as I tell her, walking forward and slipping into the chair facing me. I move towards her to take my own place. “Water, or juice?” I ask.

  “Juice would be nice,” Olivia says, though there’s still a dubious note in her tone. “What is all this?”

  I pour her a glass before sitting down with my wine, reaching for a hunk of bread from the platter. Encouraged by my movements, Olivia does the same. I’m glad. I want her to eat. She clearly enjoys food, and I want her to have what she likes. “I needed to apologize,” I say. “I embarrassed you earlier. That wasn’t my intention. I hope you’ll believe me when I say I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable in any way.”

  “This is your way of apologizing?” Olivia asks, with an eyebrow lifted. “How much did this all cost?”

  I chuckle. “You don’t need to worry about that. Nothing I couldn’t afford.”

  I can see her eyebrow lifting even more. She wants to ask – to find out more about me. I can’t have that, not yet.

  “But…”

  “Eat your bread,” I tell her, keeping my tone light and teasing. “It’s still warm, but it won’t be for long.”

  Olivia takes a bite as told, and then closes her eyes in bliss. I suspected she might. This is artisan bread, flown in from one of my favorite bakeries, and they always get it right. A dunk in the olive oil and balsamic vinegar, long enough to catch the flavor but quick enough for it not to be overwhelming, enhances it even further.

  “So, tell me about college,” I say. “Where are you going?”

  Olivia swallows her mouthful before replying. I like that she has good manners. “New York University. Some really good authors have graduated from there.”

  New York. What a coincidence. It just so happens to be the city where I spend most of my time. Could this have aligned any better? The more I learn about Olivia, the more I know that my initial instincts were correct. I need to claim her. She’s perfect for me.

  “Some of your favorites?” I ask.

  “Yes.” A small dimple appears on the right side of Olivia’s cheek when she smiles. It makes my heart tighten a little inside my chest. “Suzanne Collins went there, and she’s super famous and rich now. I mean, that’s not the whole point, but her books got her to that level of success.”

  “That’s what you would want?” I ask.

  “It’s perfect, really,” Olivia says, reaching for another piece of bread. “You have all the fame to sell more books, all the critical acclaim you could want, your books appearing on the big screen – and you still aren’t at a level of fame where people will recognize you in the street. You can live a normal life, write every day, and have everything you want.”

  With me, she wouldn’t need the income. But she doesn’t need to know that. I’m just taking in what she’s saying. She wants her work to be read, wants to be recognized and praised for it. “Sounds like the dream,” I tell her.

  Olivia grins. “One day I’ll be there.”

  Somehow, I don’t doubt it.

  “So, what do you do?” Olivia asks, rubbing her fingers together above her plate to let the last crumbs fall down to it.

  I take this as my cue and get up from the table. “I serve,” I say, winking. “In this case, the next course.” I swipe the breadbasket off the table and carry it over to the kitchen counter, swapping it for two covered dishes. I carry them both over at once and lay them down on top of our empty plates, then step back to lift the silver lids with a flourish.

  Olivia exclaims and claps her hands. I know that I’ve chosen well. Freshly cooked and still hot steaks, settled next to buttered asparagus, mushrooms, lamb’s lettuce, and fluffy roasted potatoes. A perfect dish – and expensive, too, not that I’m going to bring that up.

  We talk more over dinner, and the more I learn about her the more I love. I can’t tear my eyes away from her, from the enjoyment she has for the food, the way she lavishes every bite, the way her eyes roll back in her head at that first taste of a new morsel. Over dessert, a creamy New York baked cheesecake made by one of the true masters of the form, I learn about her family and how much she loves them, how loyal she is to them, how their hopes and dreams have become hers.

  I’m truly enchanted by her, but there’s still one thing that remains clear. Olivia isn’t quite yet relaxed enough. Even for all of the easy conversation we have and the delicious food, she doesn’t quite know if she can trust me yet. Maybe there’s some lingering annoyance about what happened earlier. Whatever the cause, I need to rectify that.

  I need to make her so relaxed that the rest of the night goes like a dream. And I have just the idea for how to make that happen.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Olivia

  I finish the last bite of my food and sit back, feeling full but good. The food was amazing – some of the best I’ve ever eaten in my life. Who would have thought that I would experience this here, of all places, a remote cabin with no restaurant or chef for miles around? How they kept the food so fresh and warm while transporting it here is magic to me.

  But I’m still a little wary. I don’t really understand where Aaron is coming from. He mocks me and tells me to go lose some weight, and then his apology is to make me eat a three course meal? That doesn’t make sense to me. Part of me is wary that this might all be some kind of trick – that once we’re done, he’s going to start dropping hints about how a lady shouldn’t eat so much or enjoy her food so openly.

  But what he says next takes me completely by surprise.

  “You look a little tense,” he says, getting up from his seat. “Would you like a massage?”

  I blink.

  “A massage?” I repeat, as if saying it twice will make it more understandable.

  “Sure,” he says. “I still need to finish making up for earlier. I’m actually a dab hand at it. I can work out those knots in your shoulders.”

  A dab hand – sure. Doesn’t everyone think they can pull off a decent massage? Still, I do feel like he owes me for earlier, and if he’s offering, then I shouldn’t say no. A good shoulder rub would be a nice way to relax for the end of the day. I’ll be nice and tension free for when I go to sleep, which will be a bonus for the first night in a new place.

  “Alright,” I say, warily. I settle myself a little more in my chair, expecting him to walk around behind me and do it where I sit.

  “Good,” Aaron says, rubbing his hands together and glancing around. “I’ve got some massage oils in my suitcase. Let’s see, where should we do it… how about you lay on the bed? We can cover it with a towel to avoid staining the sheets with the oil.”

  Okay, that’s a lot more than I was expecting. Maybe he really does know what he’s doing, if he’s this prepared. “Do… do you want me to go over there now and lie down?” I ask, unsure.

  “After you’ve gotten undressed, of course.”

  “Undressed?” I squawk, staring at him with wide eyes.

  “Of course,” Aaron grins. “You can’t have a proper massage with your clothes on. Like I said, the oil can stain. Just take everything off and wrap yourself up in a towel, and then lay face down on the bed. I won’t come in until you’re ready.”

  I swallow. This is a whole different level to what I was expecting. But I’ve already agreed, haven’t I? And the sound of a proper massage does sound pretty good right now.

  Maybe a little part of me is also pretty excited at the idea of being naked in front of him – especially considering he won’t really be able to see anything. It’ll feel naughty, while not actually risking anything…

  I’m starting to get into this idea, after all.

  I head into the bathroom and undress, staring at my own body in the mirror over the sink for just a second before wrapping myself up in a towel. I’m glad I shaved and showered this morning – I look and feel fresh and clean, so there’s no chance of any embarrassment from him touching me.

  I head into the bedroom and lay down, taking care to arrange the towel around
myself again. I’ve seen massages in movies and on TV – you’re supposed to lay the towel over yourself, covering just the area around your ass, leaving the rest free for the masseuse. I think about it for a moment but leave the towel all the way up to my breasts – given how large they are, it’s not easy to keep them completely covered just by lying on my chest.

  “Okay,” I shout, even though I’m starting to feel a bit more nervous about this. There’s nothing to it, though, right? I don’t need to worry about anything – just lay here and let Aaron do his thing.

  He comes in, and the mood lighting – which has even been placed around the bedroom as well as out in the main room – shifts to a soft pink glow. He must be controlling it through an app. Soft music also fills the space, a gentle song with a female singer that I don’t recognize. It’s low enough that the lyrics aren’t distracting, as I can barely make them out.

  “I’m going to start with your shoulders,” Aaron says. I smell something wonderful – orange tones with something floral beneath them – and then feel the touch of something liquid pooling between my shoulder blades.

  Aaron gets to work massaging the oil into my skin, his hands gliding across my tight muscles. The circular motions immediately begin to relax me, earning a moan that I can’t hold back as the tension begins to flood away from my shoulders. Aaron was right, I hadn’t noticed just how tense I was until he began to work it all away.

  He rubs across the top and sides of my shoulders and then begins on my arms, starting with my upper right arm and moving down across my elbow. He even rubs each of my fingers and the palm of my hand in turn – completely unexpected. Every time I think I’ve figured out how far he means to go, he seems to go further. I can’t even complain, I can barely think with the sensations of each of my muscles lifting from stress and being rubbed to pleasant looseness. My fingers are released from the cramp of holding a pen, and then he starts on my other arm.

  It's when he finishes there that things start to get a bit more intense. “I’m going to lift the towel down to your hips,” he says. “Is that alright?”

  I think about saying no, about keeping myself covered. But like this, he won’t really be able to see anything. Just a little flesh from the side. I’ve sunk down into the bed, so maybe not even that. And the temptation of feeling those hands soothing the rest of the muscles in my back is too strong.

  “Alright,” I agree, closing my eyes instead of staring ahead at the headboard any longer. My chin rests on my hands now that he’s finished with my arms, and I wait.

  The feel of cool air hits my back as he deftly pulls the towel down and folds it over my hips, then the bed sways and moves under me. I crack my eyes open to realize that he’s behind me, climbing onto the bed with one knee on either side of my body.

  “That’s better,” he says, and drops more oil on my back before starting in with the massage again. This time, with his weight evenly distributed over me and his hands able to reach both sides of my body with equal ease, it feels so much better. I didn’t even think it was possible, but the equal pressure on both sides of the same muscles at once is pure bliss.

  I can’t help moaning now and then as he hits a particularly tender muscle and grinds it into shape, pushing out all of the horrible stress that has gathered there over weeks and years. The stress of exams, of choosing a college, of earning enough at my part-time job to afford this trip. All of it melts away under his hands.

  Once he reaches my lower back he stops, then runs his hands one more time along my spine for good measure before shifting. Just when I think the massage is over and I’m about to ask him if I should get up, I feel the cool touch of the oil on my left calf, and I realize that he’s nowhere near done.

  Aaron massages one leg and then the other, my calf, then the foot, paying special attention to the pads of my feet and my toe joints. It feels so good I almost want to beg him to keep going. More than that – there’s something so intimate about a foot massage that I feel something stirring inside me.

  It grows as his massage continues. Having finished with my lower legs he moves up to my left thigh, working the muscle there all the way up to the towel. I almost tense up again as his hand moves nearer to the area of my body that is covered, but I don’t want him to stop.

  I feel myself getting wet, but I’m so relaxed at his touch I can barely do anything about it. I should be mortified. I should get up and cover myself, stop him from touching me anymore.

  But when it feels so good – how can I resist?

  Maybe if he never knows, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Aaron

  Something subtle in the atmosphere has shifted. I know I’m not imagining it. I’ve taken my time on purpose, made sure that she feels as good as she possibly can, playing the perfect gentleman. I won’t touch her without her permission, but I can do as much as I can to make her want to give in to me.

  “You know,” I say carefully and slowly, working the muscles in her left thigh. “We’re totally alone out here.”

  Olivia makes a humming noise which I take as agreement. I guess she’s too zen right now to answer properly, which means my hands are doing their job.

  “No one is around for miles,” I continue. “The door’s locked and we’re the only ones with the keys. No one can interrupt us out here.”

  I hear Olivia’s breath catch, the only hint of a reaction that I can get. Something in her is incredibly still now, like she’s holding her breath, waiting for whatever I will say next. Like she’s ready to hear it.

  “It’s totally private,” I tell her, moving to her right thigh and taking my time to work the muscles there, starting from closer to her knee and moving upwards as I talk. “We can do whatever we want. There’s no one to stop us, no one to judge. It’s just between you and me.”

  Olivia still hasn’t made a verbal reply. I can feel the tension in the room now, sizzling in the air, and I know that I have her. Still, I have to make sure. I want to show her that she’s already mine – whether she knows it now or not. I’ll make her mine, and there’s no other possible outcome.

  “You know, I can work a full-body massage. I mean, full body. The gluteus muscle needs some love, too. You know where the gluteus muscles are?”

  “Yes,” Olivia says, her first response. Her voice sounds light and throaty.

  “Well?” I pause, my hands going to the towel. I lean forward over her. “Should I carry on?”

  “Yes,” Olivia says in a rush, like she doesn’t trust her nerve if she doesn’t agree right away.

  I grasp hold of the towel and pull it away, revealing the rest of her body, uncovered and naked now before me. Her ass is just as juicy as I thought it would be under her clothes, round and plump, perfectly formed, just itching for my hands to stroke it.

  Olivia draws in a sharp breath with the cool air on her exposed skin, but she doesn’t change her mind or tell me no. I admire her for a moment, drinking her in with my eyes, then lower my hands to her warm flesh.

  I start to knead her ass, loving the feel of it under my hands, the way it gives and moves under my direction. Olivia moans, and looking down as I pull her cheeks apart, I see the glistening wetness between her legs.

  I feel my dick harden, so fast and so strong that it almost bowls me over. I reach up to palm myself through my clothes, only for a moment, before returning my hands to Olivia’s ass. This is going to be a night to remember – for both of us.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Olivia

  If I was hot for Aaron before, now I can barely stand it. I just want him to carry on touching me forever. I have momentary doubt as his hands knead my ass, softening my muscles and offering maddening sensations as my flesh moves. Should I really let him do this to me? Shouldn’t I stop him and cover myself up?

  But I want it – I want it so bad. And now that I feel it, I don’t want it to stop. I think about the romance books I love to read, the kind I would like to write one day.
The heroes are always just like Aaron, strong and powerful, not afraid to say what they want or to take it either. He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, a strong and handsome man who isn’t afraid to do whatever he feels like. I must be in heaven. It’s like someone heard my dreams and sent him here to fulfill everything I’ve ever wanted.

  His hand keeps sliding over my ass, spreading my cheeks wide and then pushing them together. During those brief moments I’m totally exposed, and it feels like Aaron must be able to see everything. My breath catches in my throat, my heart pounding. I feel so bad – but I don’t want it to stop.

  The heat between my thighs keeps increasing – even more so when Aaron’s hands leave my ass and slip down to the top of my legs. His fingers sweep to the inside edge, drawing a moan from my throat. I want him to inch his fingers up, to draw them through the wetness there, but he doesn’t – so close, and never quite touching.

  I think about telling him to go further, but I bite my lip. In the moment I feel heat sweep up over my face, flooding me pink, and I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been in this kind of situation before, and I don’t know how to do dirty talk – what if it sounds stupid?

  What if I’m reading the situation all wrong, and this is all just part of a full-body massage?

  But it feels so good – and I can feel how close he is to really touching me, to touching my most intimate area that no one has ever touched before. He must want it, too. He can’t just be teasing me. I can feel something in the air, something unfamiliar – a kind of atmosphere that I’ve never experienced.

  I think of those books, those heroes. What would the heroines say? They might beg breathlessly to be touched, or even just wiggle their bodies to get his hands where they want them to be. Usually, in the books I read, the hero just takes control and leads the way – guiding her to ecstasy.

  That thought makes me shiver, with anticipation and need. The thought of Aaron guiding me to my own ecstasy, the first time I will ever experience it.