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Belletristik / Gegenwartsliteratur (ab 1945)
When Savannah is asked to accompany her brother's fiance to a spa, she thinks of it as an opportunity to relax from her strenuous college classes. What she isn't expecting is for her masseur to be a werewolf who's not only ready to massage all the stress from her body, but also introduce some other form of relaxation. Just what kind of spa did her brother's fiance bring her to?!
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
For a few seconds, the only noise she hears is his breathing. She can feel his fingers kneading the soft muscles on her calves and he's slowly working his way up her legs. He's breathing hard. Is he tired already? That's not very professional, is it? And isn't he a werewolf? Enhanced senses and everything- She startles when she suddenly understands why he's breathing so heavily: He can pick up her scent.
She probably stinks of arousal. Oh god, how much more embarrassing can this get?
As though reading her mind, he asks, "Am I making you uncomfortable?" There is that infuriating note of amusement in his tone.
She shakes her head. "Nope," she says, popping the 'p'. "Very comfortable," she adds for good measure and wishes she could dig a hole and bury herself in it.
"You're very tense," he says, and he grasps her ankle with one firm, warm hand, and presses on her stomach with the other. "I'm gonna stretch you out a little," he says and lifts her leg before she can ask him what he means.
"Oh!" she gasps, unprepared for the sudden ache in her thigh from the stretch. Her panties bunch up between her legs and she prays to the gods of underwear that it stays in place. She's definitely sporting a camel-toe right now and he's so close that it's impossible for him to not smell her arousal.
She can smell her arousal and she doesn't even have the whole enhanced smelling thing going for her.
She tenses up instead of relaxing and his breathing seems to deepen, like he's doing some sort of meditative breathing exercise with deep inhales. Maybe he's breathing in through his mouth. She wishes she could see through the towel.
After debating in her own mind for all of ten seconds, she lifts a tentative hand to her face and slides the towel off, but keeps her eyes clenched shut. The man's hands reach the backs of her thigh, sliding up and down the length of her leg and stopping just before he's touching anywhere too inappropriate before rubbing his hands back up to her foot.
Biting her lip, she peeks at him a little and regrets it instantly. He's even hotter than she can possibly imagine in her mind's eye.
She considers telling him that she's not Susan and she doesn't want any of the 'special services' that she's probably requested, but he hasn't crossed any lines. Everything he's done so far has been strictly professional and she's the one who's being inappropriately aroused by a massage.