Second Chances by Nicole Andrews Moore

awkward moments when she was going to have to eat her words.  Damn.  “A massage?”  She asked weakly.  “This is about a massage?”
     
    “Yes, Hannah,” Gavin said.  “A woman will be here in a few minutes to give you a massage.”  He watched her emotions radically change and was pleased that he was the one pampering her and making her so happy.
     
    Hannah squealed.  She couldn’t help it.  Never one to hide her feelings, she squealed and then crossed the distance between them to throw her arms around him and plant a kiss on his cheek.  “Thank you,” she said, wincing some as she pulled back.  “I’ve never had a massage before.”  Then she headed straight for the stairs, leaving Gavin to stand there in surprise, lightly touching the spot where she had planted her grateful impromptu kiss.
     
     
    Moments after introducing them, Gavin excused himself so that he might enjoy a glass of wine and wind down on the patio.  He stretched some before the outdoor fireplace and tried not to think about what was happening in his study and how much he would prefer to be there.  It was no use.  He had seen Hannah hesitantly enter the study wearing only a bathrobe as he spoke to Sierra. 
     
    Her bare feet, slender ankles and part of her shapely calves were left exposed beneath the white robe.  Upon seeing him standing there, she had blushed a shade of pink that crept into her cheeks.  He had excused himself then, slipping out one of the French doors onto the patio with his wine. 
     
    Scowling at him, Sierra shooed him away as Hannah dropped the robe and climbed under the sheet on the table.  He felt like a naughty schoolboy.  Part of him wanted to give her that massage himself, put into practice his unused skills, and just touch her.  He wanted to feel her skin beneath his hands, see it glisten with the oils he would knead into her sore muscles, feel it warm to his touch.  He wanted to hear her moan in pleasure.  And that was what prevented him from acting on his desires. 
     
    How many times today had he had to remind himself that she was supposed to be punished and humiliated so that he could recover from his divorce, get women out of his system once and for all?  It was no use.  Every time he looked at Hannah, he found himself desiring her, admiring her even.  He sighed.  Glancing at his watch, he realized that she was only fifteen minutes into her massage.
     
    Standing, he moved toward the French doors he had exited earlier.  They still stood open.  He couldn’t help it.  He had to at least watch.  Slowly, silently, he slipped through the doors and moved to one of the leather chairs near the fireplace.  Careful not to make a sound, he sat and put a finger to his lips as Sierra frowned at him.  He was paying her.  If he wanted to be in the room, he damn well should be able to.  Leaning back, he watched in fascination.
     
     
    She sensed him though she didn’t see him.  Somehow, whenever he was near, her body knew.  She had felt him watching her while she read to the girls.  And now, Hannah was certain he was in the room watching Sierra thoroughly massage every inch of her body. 
     
    “You are very tense,” Sierra commented as she rubbed the area between Hannah’s shoulder blades, the area that Hannah had so diligently tried to stretch out after her near accident on the stairs.
     
    Emitting a light laugh, Hannah responded.  “I’m not surprised.”  She was not one to reveal much about her personal life.  It was that, personal.
     
    “Let me know if I hurt you,” Sierra commanded as she pressed extra hard, working to relieve the tension in Hannah’s taut shoulders.
     
    Gavin leaned forward and watched.  Hannah’s knuckles tensed.  She was most definitely in pain.  He could see her bottom lip as she bit down on it.  Still she refused to complain.  Instead, she lay there and took what was being dealt.  He was fascinated.  This was a woman who would not