“Of course. These treatments were used in Ancient China, and by Cleopatra. The gold lifts out toxins and stimulates cell reproduction. It’s good for wrinkles too, not that you need it.”
I smiled at the compliment and tried to imagine myself as Cleopatra, draped in pearls and oozing sex appeal. Stefan Zoric, eat your heart out.
After I was rinsed off, I was laid out on a table and a different woman came in and sprayed my body with gold infused massage oil. Then the masseuse went to work on my muscles. I felt like butter beneath her strong hands, all of my tension and stress melting away with each stroke of pressure.
After a while, I began to imagine it was Stefan touching me. Stroking me.
I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander as my body was taken care of. I imagined him leaning over me, his hands kneading into my neck and shoulders before moving lower, caressing my lower back. Then lower, massaging my gluteal muscles, his thumbs moving in deep, slow circles until the muscles relaxed under his hands.
He’d ease my thighs apart, fingers slipping between my legs, where I ached to be touched. I imagined him starting to stroke me, gliding back and forth with his thumb before thrusting a thick finger inside, his pacing timed to match my shallow, quickening breaths. His mouth would dip close to my ear, whispering naughty things to me as he touched me. Teased me.
“That’s my curious little cat,” he’d say, pumping deeper.
He’d be good with his hands. He was older, and experienced. He knew how to make a woman come. I bet he’d guess exactly what I wanted before I even figured it out myself.
As I lay there, the fantasy overwhelming me, I realized that I wasn’t just mad at him for what had happened that morning…I was upset with myself. For believing that this could be something more. Forwantingit to be something more. I had been naïve.
But I was attracted to him. Deeply. Regardless of the circumstances, I wanted to take our marriage to the next level, find out what our bodies were capable of. Unfortunately, I was beginning to realize that that had never been part of the deal.
“You’re so tense,” the masseuse told me, no doubt feeling all the tightness that was now building in my shoulders and back.
I did my best to relax again, but all I could think about was Stefan. Why couldn’t I stay annoyed at him? Why did I want him to touch me, to kiss me, to caress me? He had made it clear that he wasn’t interested, yet my body craved him.
Of all the people in the world, I had to be attracted to my arranged marriage husband. The one person who seemed to have literally no interest in me. Or if he did, he was more than happy to ignore that attraction. It definitely wasn’t as important as his work.
Knowing I was playing with fire, I slipped back into my sexy daydream.
I imagined him standing above me, positioning me on all fours, pulling my knees wide. Exposing me to him fully. In my fantasy he spread my thighs with his hands and then licked my opening, already wet for him. He stroked me with his tongue, his fingers pushing into me at the same time, and I imagined my desperate moans, my orgasm coming fast.
He wouldn’t even wait for my body to stop shaking before he’d position himself behind me. Then he’d slam himself deep inside, grabbing my hips for leverage as he thrusted hard, grunting with effort. Maybe he’d fist his hand in my hair to tug my head back, my pain and pleasure mixing in equal measure, pumping faster and faster until he came, groaning my name.
The intensity of the fantasy surprised me. I’d never thought of myself as the kind of girl who would want something like that—raw and rough—but my skin tingled with each new image that popped into my head. Because somehow, I knew how Stefan would be in bed.
He wouldn’t be gentle, nor sweet. He’d be the way he was in real life. Brusque, intense, passionate.
Still, I knew it was pointless to even imagine having him, no matter how badly I wanted it. Maybe I was just desperate to lose my virginity and he was the most convenient person I could think of… No. That wasn’t it at all. I wished it was, but I knew that my attraction to Stefan was unique. The way he looked at me, how fast the heat would build between us, the hum in my body whenever he was close by. I was positive there was something there, even if it was purely lust and nothing else. That’s what made the whole thing so frustrating.
* * *
When I finally emerged fromthe salon, perfectly made up and expertly coiffed, I felt almost like a new person. Tugging my clothes back on in the changing room, I took a hard look in the mirror. There was no doubt about it—I was glowing. From my professionally applied Chanel makeup to the shimmering polish on my toenails.
Stefan was probably going to freak when he saw the charges I’d been making to the room, but it would teach him a lesson not to taunt me about spending money and then leave me alone for a whole day in an expensive hotel.
Feeling a little better, I made my way to the lobby cafe for a late lunch. I couldn’t believe I was hungry after the huge breakfast I’d eaten, but all that pampering had aroused my appetite.
It was a light meal, and I barely had room to try the city’s world-famous Sacher torte, but I figured a celebration wasn’t complete without dessert.
Afterward, I decided to explore the boutique that Stefan had mentioned. I had just stepped out of the café when I glimpsed a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye. It was Stefan, gliding across the lobby, his purposeful stride instantly recognizable.
Immediately my pulse raced, as all the fantasies I’d been entertaining during my massage came back to me at full force. Stefan’s strong fingers between my legs, his grip tight on my hips, his body thrusting into mine. I felt very hot, my blood buzzing with anticipation.
I was so distracted that at first I didn’t even notice that he wasn’t alone. No, he had a leggy brunette with him, his hand resting on her lower back. I could only see them from behind, but he turned his head to whisper something to her and she pushed her hair behind her ear, giving me a look at her face.
She was gorgeous. Unbelievably, super-human gorgeous. With her impossibly long legs and wide-set Bambi eyes, she had to be a model.
No doubt she was exactly the kind of woman Stefan was used to being around all day. Tall and angular, with high cheekbones and perfectly pouty lips. The little slip of a silk blouse made it obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra. As they got closer, I saw that she had winged eyeliner and a wet, pink mouth. She looked like a living doll.
She looked nothing like me.
