When his hands slid upward past her knees, her womanly core clenched in anticipation. But of course, he didn’t go there. His hands reversed their course and slid downward again. Toward her calves and feet. Shameless woman that she was, she almost groaned in frustration. But everything he was doing felt too good for her to complain.
He spent quite some time on her feet. Pressing certain points on her sole, then bending her knees and rolling her feet while supporting her ankles.
The blanket settled over her legs, covering her lower body. She had a moment of disappointment that the delicious massage had ended, before he grabbed the upper edge of the blanket and his voice, low and intimate, murmured.
“May I?”
“Yes,” she said, and nodded her head for good measure.
Wang lowered the blanket to her waist, exposing her back. She felt a moment of vulnerability before his warm, oiled hands descended on her. Gliding, kneading. Finding aching points and working them with gentle pressure until she felt as soft as warmed honey. His thumbs glided the entire length of her spine, and then his hands fanned out to her sides over her shoulder blades. She could not contain the groan of pure pleasure that emanated from deep in her soul.
His hands paused. “Are you well, my lady?”
“Yes. Oh, yes. Please, don’t stop. That feels”—another moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure momentarily interrupted her speech—“amazing.”
She heard his low chuckle but was too relaxed to care. This almost felt like imbibing too much wine. Inhibitions lowered, cares and worries melted away until only this ecstasy mattered.
When he had reduced her to the pliancy of warm wax, she felt his fingers focusing on specific points along her spine, her hips, the back of her knees. They felt like butterfly touches. She imagined him placing the tiny needles he had spoken about, and she remained unnaturally still, not wanting to disrupt the process. So far it had not hurt, just as he promised, but she feared if she moved, they would poke her.
“That’s it,” he said, stepping back from her body. “Now we wait for a few minutes. To allow the needles to do their job.”
“Hmm. If they are supposed to give me strength, I don’t think it will work,” she murmured, turning her head to the side to watch Wang, who had taken a seat on a nearby bench set against the wall.
He frowned. “Why? Do you feel any discomfort? Weakness?”
“I’m certainly weak.” She smiled. “I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. My limbs are the consistency of molten wax.”
A warm, gentle chuckle escaped his lips. “I’m glad I could bring you relief, my lady.”
“You brought more than relief. You brought absolute pleasure.”
Goodness gracious. Had she really said that? Her tongue had loosened along with her limbs and her inhibitions. Despite the heat of the room that warmed her entire body, an additional flush rose to her face. She hoped he attributed her rising color to the surrounding heat rather than her embarrassment.
He said nothing, merely inclined his head in acknowledgment. But was it her imagination that his gaze seemed to smolder as he contemplated her? The moment became charged. Awareness tingled along her naked body, and her heartbeat accelerated. She needed a distraction.
“So, tell me, Mr. Wang, are these traditional medical treatments in China?”
“Yes. Along with acupressure, moxibustion, certain exercises, and herbal medicines and poultices.”
“And do you only practice Chinese medicine, or have you adopted some of our Western practices as well?”
“In New York, while working with Colin, I learned about traditional western medicine as well. We used both in the hospital we founded and achieved much success treating patients with a mix of the two.”
“How long have you known Lord Hartfield?”
“Going on sixteen years now.”
“How did you two meet?” It seemed like an unlikely friendship. And yet she could see the genuine affection and respect between the two men.
Wang smiled, reminiscing. “During a riot, if you can believe it.”
Esther gasped, her interest piqued. If she could, she would have sat up to hear the tale.
“Oh, do tell. That sounds like an extremely interesting story.”
“It was outside the Astor Place Opera House. Apparently, there was some rivalry between two actors, which spilled onto their followers and sparked tension between the upper and lower classes. We learned this later. At the time, I was walking by when I heard the angry shouts and sounds of a brawl. I almost turned around and went another way to avoid the mob, but then I spotted this young man and a lady being accosted by a group of men.”
“Colin and his mother, I assume,” Esther interjected into the pause.
