Chapter 17

Nicki woke with a start, her body dwarfed by the enormous bed. She blinked, but she knew where she was. It wasn't a dream, despite the fact that she hadn't woken up in a room as tidy as this since she'd shared college dorm rooms with Emmaline.

In fact—the room looked too clean. Almost swept.

She moved up against the pillows. The bed was cool beside her. Stefan had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around her, but he clearly hadn't been there for the whole night. The dinner dishes on the table outside were gone, the wine taken away and the glasses removed. The glasses on the nightstand had vanished as well. There was no evidence that Stefan had remained there, she realized. No visible clothing, no drawers left askew, nothing out of place on the tables. Even the remote for the TV was in its holder.

Had he abandoned the room in the middle of the night, a wolf gnawing off its own leg to get out of a trap?

"You slept well?"

"Oh!" Nicki's pulse jacked as she turned to see Stefan leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom. He was freshly showered, his hair slicked back carefully over his brow, his body draped in a low-slung towel. Nicki's gaze dropped to his damp chest with its scatter of fine hair—and then it dropped further, following the trail as it pointed down his abs to his groin.

As she watched, the towel dropped to the floor.

Stefan didn't give her a chance to react as he strode quickly across the room, climbing up on the bed until his shower-damp body flattened her to the sheets. His head dipped toward her and she squirmed to the side. "No!" she laughed. "Stop it, I need to fix my?—"

"You don't," Stefan murmured, following the angle of her head until she surrendered and allowed him to kiss her. He kissed her mouth, her brow, and followed the line of her head and neck until he reached her outer shoulder. "You're as perfect this morning as you were last night."

She turned beneath him, staring up at his impossibly chiseled face. "You can cut that out, you know. We've already had sex."

It was his turn to frown. "Cut what out?"

"The chivalry thing. I mean—it's nice, don't get me wrong. But it's totally unnecessary. And it's got to be exhausting." Despite her best intention to stay focused, she was distracted by the curve of Stefan's hard pecs and the tension in his biceps as he held himself above her, giving her space. Whatever, it allowed her to focus on his chest, not his face.

"I've broken my right leg and my left arm—here—" she pointed out the scars, clearly visible in the morning light, no matter how filtered it was through the French doors. "I cracked myself in the head when I was twenty falling off a monument and they glued my eyebrow back together—here." She traced the line along her right eyebrow. I have a high hamstring tear that kicks up when I sprint if I don't stretch out, and when I don't have my nails manicured, I have a tendency to rip them down to the quick."

She stared back at Stefan's face, resolution firming her words as a smile played about his lips. "All I'm saying is, I'm not perfect. I know I'm not perfect. You don't have to use that word."

"Noted." Slowly, tenderly, he dipped his head—not to her mouth, but to the hairline scar she'd pointed out on her brow. "But this—this scar you received while being careless on a monument. You were careless, I suspect?"

"I was the worst. I didn't know my limits."

"Ah." He drifted his mouth along her brow, the movement sending a thrill down her spine. "This scar is perfect, because it's yours. Because you received it doing something that only you would have done."

"Mm." Nicki fought to follow his words as his mouth drifted down to her shoulder, her arm. "I wasn't the only idiot up there that day."

"And this—your arm was reset after—what?"

"Snowboarding accident, spring break in the Rockies," she said automatically, sucking in a breath as he traced the old scar with his tongue. "I was totally not being an idiot then. The course was well marked, but there was a snow ghost—tree buried under a drift—they hadn't gotten to. I veered too high in a turn, got incredible air—but when I came down I was right on top of the thing." Her eyes drifted shut. "I didn't stop though. No one knew how bad I was injured until we got to the bottom of the mountain. Not even me."

"I'm not surprised." Stefan transferred his attention to her thigh, where the angry whorls of her pin scars stood white against the dark tan of her skin. "The leg, was it also snowboarding?"

"Bike—hit by a car on campus, old lady visiting her…ohh…" Stefan put his hands on either side of her thigh, the pressure of his palms steady as he massaged the muscles around the long-ago injury with a sure, strong touch. His fingers dug into the knots of her thighs, knots she didn't know she had, and Nicki flopped back, suddenly feeling oxygen-deprived.

"My God. You should take that act on tour," she groaned. Was this also a demigod thing? Was Hermes the god of massage? If not, he should be.

"I suspect this is the same leg with the hamstring tear?"

She could barely make out his words as pleasure crested within her. She'd known she'd needed a massage, but she'd never imagined it could be so electrifying. She didn't complain as his hands firmed on her body, easing her first to her side, then her stomach, his large hands transferring their pressure to her back. He stroked long and firm, and when he got to the curve of her ass, she belatedly realized she was still naked, and he was?—

"Hey—" she spluttered, half rising from the bed.

"Humor me," he said, pushing her back down with the flat of his hand. Then both hands returned to her glutes. "Your left leg, right?"

"Yes but—ow!" she went rigid again as he pressed two fingers in a sharp, deep line down the curve of her upper thigh, the muscle spasming beneath his touch for a harrowing moment, driving all thoughts of pleasure from her mind. "That hurts!"

"It won't in a moment. Endure it," he said, his voice low but absolute. He stroked again, more deeply, and Nicki ground her hands into the sheets, tightening them into fists around the luxurious fabric. She tried to scoot away, but he restrained her, talking low as she gasped and panted.

"Relax," Stefan growled. "You're doing yourself no favors fighting me."

She snorted. "Spoken as someone who always wins—ouch! Enough!"

"For the moment," he said, the pressure of his hand changing to the broad flat of his palm as he pressed up with more general force into the intersection of her hamstring and glute. The warmed muscle tightened then gave way, and a spiral of pleasure radiated outward as Stefan continued the deep massage. He chuckled as Nicki groaned into the sheets once more.

"That's so much better," she managed on a sigh.

"It wouldn't be so, without the pain. As you more than most should know."

She was too aroused to be completely wary, but fear pricked in the back of her mind. What did he mean by that? What did he know?

"You think so?" she managed.

"Don't tense up." He brought his hands down both legs, and shifted them slightly wider. When his long, brushing strokes moved back up, they fluttered between her legs.

Despite his admonition, tensing is exactly what Nicki did.

"Hey—" she managed, but the combination of the deep tissue massage and this new, arousing pressure was too much for her brain to process. She let her legs fall naturally wider, accepting more of his touch as his laughter rumbled low in his throat.

"You're so wet," he murmured, dipping his fingers into her to verify. The touch of him woke up nerve endings that had barely recovered from the night before, but the endorphins from the massage overrode any complaint, and need erupted within her with each of his lazy strokes. He dipped into her again, pressing up against the slick skin, and she moaned into the sheets.

"Stop teasing me," she breathed out. "I want you inside me."

Stefan proved he was also excellent at taking direction.