With a stifled curse, he opened his eyes, jerked the blanket up over her breasts, and pressed the snifter’s rim against her soft lower lip.

«Drink.»

Wolfe’s voice was thick with desire, but there was no mistaking the command in it. Grimacing, Jessica opened her mouth, drank, and swallowed. An instant later, she was gasping for air and coughing. Calmly, Wolfe poured water from a carafe on the bedside table and offered the glass to her. She drank quickly. Even so, the brandy left a fiery trail from her tongue to her stomach.

«Better?»

Jessica nodded, because she couldn’t speak.

«Lie down on your stomach again.»

Casually Wolfe took the blanket off Jessica, shook it out, and let it flutter down over the tempting curves of her bottom and the shadow cleft between.

«Where is your rose oil?» Wolfe asked.

«In the crystal bottle on your dresser.»

«There are nine such bottles.»

«The one with the stopper that’s the color of my cheeks,» she muttered into the fur.

«Ah, that one.» Wolfe looked at the fiery color of Jessica’s face. «Blushing again, elf?»

She turned her head and slanted him a narrow look. Against the intense color of her face, her eyes looked like gems.

«You’re enjoying this,» she accused.

Wolfe turned away before Jessica could see him smile. He retrieved the proper bottle from the dresser.

«Be careful,» she said. «It’s fragile.»

«Don’t worry. I’m not clumsy with small things.»

She laughed softly and confessed into the fur, «I know. You’re the only man I’ve ever seen who can take a handful of roses from a bush and never know the bite of thorns.»

Smiling, Wolfe coaxed the fragile stopper free and poured a small amount of oil in his palm. When he sat next to Jessica on the bed, she made a startled sound. She made another sound when he began rubbing his hands up and down her body.

As he had suspected, Jessica’s back was as knotted as her arms. Warmed by his hands and the friction of skin against skin, the rose oil gave its fragrance to the silent room. When his hands kneaded up her back from waist to nape, Jessica made a low sound.

«Too hard?» Wolfe asked.

«Too…wonderful.» Jessica sighed. «Ah, that feels like heaven.»

He smiled and continued working the stiffness out of her back. Each time he worked down her spine, he took in more of her sides, coming closer and closer to her breasts. Each time he approached her waist, he eased a bit lower. The soft flannel retreated to the small of her back, then to the beginning of the velvet cleft of her bottom. The temptation to run his finger over the intriguing shadow was great, but Wolfe resisted it. He knew Jessica would panic.

«Tell me where it’s sore.» Wolfe moved his hands to Jessica’s shoulders. «Here?»

She nodded her head without opening her eyes. When she felt the pressure of his strong fingers kneading out the clenched tension of the muscles, she groaned.

«Pleasure or pain?» Wolfe asked in a low voice. Jessica nodded her head.

«Which one?»

«Yes,» she sighed, uncurling her hands along her sides.

He laughed softly, poured more oil onto his palm, and resumed rubbing.

«What about here?» he asked.

The gentle glide of his hands across Jessica’s upper arms felt wonderful. She groaned and relaxed even more beneath his touch. As he worked on the knotted muscles of her left arm from shoulder to fingertips, his hands kept brushing between her arm and her body. The first few times it happened, she tightened and tried to move away. Then she forgot to be self-conscious about his touch, for it simply felt too good to object when the back of his fingers brushed the sides of her breast, her ribs, the inward curve of her waist, and the smooth swell of her hip.

The third time Wolfe’s hand traced Jessica’s body without her withdrawing, he smiled and switched his attention to her other arm. In order to reach it, he straddled her thighs. As he worked down her right arm, he slowly dragged the blanket lower and lower until the full curves of her buttocks were revealed. The breath in his throat caught as he looked at the creamy, fine-grained skin and feminine promise that lay so close at hand.

«What about here?» he asked, tracing the long muscles that ran along either side of Jessica’s spine. «Stiff?»

«Yes,» she sighed.

Wolfe tested, agreed, and bit back a comment about his own stiffness. The loin cloth he had wrapped around himself could not contain the change that passion had wrought on his body. The sight of Jessica’s graceful hips rising from the rumpled blanket was a sweet torment. The thought of opening her legs and easing into her soft body with the fur all silky around her made him groan.

«Wolfe?»

For a moment he didn’t answer. Then the talons of need eased and he could breathe once more.

«What?» he asked.

Jessica shivered with pleasure as Wolfe’s hands kneaded down her back to her waist, lingered, then eased upward again with a combination of gentleness and strength that was magic on her aching body.

«That feels so good.» She sighed and unconsciously arched against his touch. «It makes me dizzy.»

«Must be the brandy.»

«I don’t think so, my lord. I think it’s your hands. I didn’t know anything could feel so wonderful.»

«Are you sure? A moment ago you couldn’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain.»

«I’m sure.» The sound Jessica made was more like a soft moan than a sigh. «It’s like fire without pain, a pleasure that goes to the center of my bones.»

Wolfe’s breath caught before it came out in a soundless rush of air, for what she was describing was the essence of true passion.

«Yes,» he whispered. «It’s like that, fire without pain.»

For long minutes, there was no sound in the room but the subtle whisper of flame and the glide of Wolfe’s palms over Jessica’s rose-scented skin. When his hands continued past her waist to her hips, she didn’t notice for a few moments. Then her body stiffened.

«Wolfe?»

«You have sore muscles here, too,» he said matter-of-factly.

«Yes, but —»

«Hush, Jessi,» Wolfe interrupted firmly. «Pretend I’m still working on your shoulders.»

«But you aren’t!»

«That’s where the pretending comes in.»

For a time there was a silence that was like the flesh Wolfe was kneading — silky, taut, quivering with possibilities.

«You’re not pretending.»

«How do you know?» Jessica retorted.

«The parrot told me.»

She giggled, then giggled some more, imagining a parrot darting brightly about the room telling secrets.

«I’m muzzled,» she said after a moment.

«On that little bit of brandy? I doubt it.»

«I’m a little bit myself, remember? You’ve said so often enough.»

Not everywhere, Wolfe thought silently, sinking his fingers into Jessica’s resilientflesh.Thereare parts of my self that are quite lush.

Jessica’s breath broke on a ragged sigh.

«Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rough,» Wolfe said, smoothing his palm over the tender curve of her bottom. «Perhaps more oil…»

«You weren’t rough,» Jessica said lazily.

«Then why did you make that small sound?»

«I didn’t.» She smiled. «The parrot did. It’s muzzled, too.»

«A drunken parrot. The mind reels.»

«More like the stomach.»

«On a sip of brandy? Impossible.»

«Then it must be the butterflies.»

«What butterflies?»

«The ones in my stomach. Every time you touch me a certain way, they whirl around like leaves on the wind.»

Jessica giggled again, then gasped softly when Wolfe’s thumbs drew deeply beneath the curves of her buttocks, skimming the place where herthighswere pressed together.

«Like that?» he asked, his voice husky.

«Y-yes.»

«Then I’ll do this, instead.»

Jessica’s breath unraveled in broken sounds as Wolfe’s lean, strong fingers kneaded down the back of her thighs to her knees. A curious, boneless feeling stole over her, a combination of brandy and the shimmering warmth of Wolfe’s hands smoothing oil and pleasure into her skin. Without realizing it, she groaned softly and relaxed the tension that had kept her legs pressed together.