Her Missouri Master (Stateside Doms Book 7) by Karen Nappa

Author:Karen Nappa [Nappa, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Hot Romance Inc
Published: 2022-06-02T16:00:00+00:00

The familiar scent of baby oil was soothing, and Marian let out the pent-up air from her lungs when she lowered her head to the table.

“Of course, it is also a great excuse to get my hands on you.”

His cheeky comment surprised a laugh out of her. “As if I didn’t give you the right to touch my body when I signed the contract.”

“Ah.” His low baritone was soothing.

Although she expected his hands to move, she still stiffened when he repositioned his palms on her shoulders and started to massage.

Ignoring her flinch, he answered, “I might be your Master, but you hold the ultimate power, sevgilim.”

Such a strange word. Curiously, she asked, “What is that language you sprinkle through your English?”

He was silent for such a long time; she didn’t expect an answer but then he did reply, “My parents are from Turkey and immigrated a couple of months before I was born. As an ethnicity, we’re not a large population but many of us are entrepreneurs and the American Dream is well suited for us.”

Turkey?

She tried to visualize the map.

Northern Africa? No, no. Turkey is partway in Europe and partway in Asia.

She started to push herself up and turn, remembered she was naked, and quickly lowered herself to the table, hiding her breasts. “It seemed to have worked for you.”

“It did.”

The pleasant warmth from the oil seeped into her skin and invaded her body and relaxed her mind. Marian went boneless after he started to stroke over her back and shoulders.

When she had rushed through getting naked and on the table, she didn’t miss his fine physique when he pulled the shirt over his head and off.

Goodness gracious, the man is male perfection.

For a moment she hadn’t been able to breathe. His waist was slim, and his abdomen was ribbed with muscles. His chest was wide with a small amount of hairs dusting the olive skin, just enough to make him manly without having him look like a grizzly.

Being alone with a virile man like him was both scary and exhilarating.

She concentrated on his touch and her breathing evened out. His oily hands slid over her back, lingered on knots and sensitive places, hurting her but not.

That did not make any sense, even in my head.

He straightened. Her instinctive aversion against flames flared back to life. Locking her muscles against the impulse to flee, she forced herself to stay still as he took a hand-held torch tipped with what looked like a cotton swab on steroids and dipped it in a bowl before holding the tip in the candle flame.

Whoa, baby dinosaurs.

Her heart slammed in her chest.

“I must be mad.”

“What was that?”

While staring at the ominous flame, she repeated her words and half listened to his explanation of how fire cupping worked.

“Hold out you hand, palm up.”

She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes.

Her inner coward yelled, “Don’t do it,” but—ignoring the obnoxious voice—she held out her hand.

Holding the cup several inches above her palm, he placed the torch in the opening of the jar.

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