Even though I was fully dressed, lying flat on my back in front of a complete stranger had my nerves on edge.
My fingers dug into the couch cushion, restless and unsure where to settle.
Julian seemed to pick up on my anxiety and let out a low, easy chuckle. "Just try to relax, Mrs. Laurent. You can go ahead and lift your top now."
I gave a stiff nod, biting my lip as I slowly inched my shirt upward.
My swollen, heavy breasts were suddenly bare in the cool air.
Julian's eyes didn't look away. They held a kind of reverence—like he was looking at something priceless.
I knew they were nice. They'd been a solid C before, but since the baby, they felt heavier, fuller.
His stare was bold, totally unashamed, and it made me feel like I was on display—completely vulnerable.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I squirmed a little, my voice barely a whisper. "Dr. Roscente… should we get started?"
He blinked, like he was coming out of a daydream, and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. "Of course. You're truly beautiful, Mrs. Laurent."
The way he said it was slippery—I couldn't tell if he meant me, or just my body.
Before I could overthink it, something cool brushed against my skin.
I jerked.
Julian laughed softly, almost like he enjoyed it. "You're very sensitive."
His comment only made me blush harder. My eyes flickered around the room, landing everywhere but on him.
Noticing my unease, he held up a black silk blindfold. "Would you like me to help you with this? It might help you relax into the massage."
I paused only a second before agreeing.
No way could I spend the next two hours staring at the ceiling or worse—his face. This was better.
He leaned in to place it over my eyes, but I quickly took it from his hands. "I've got it."
Julian nodded and pulled back, giving me space.
Once the blindfold was on, the world went dark. The awkwardness faded, but now every bit of my awareness zeroed in on where his hands touched my chest.
I had to admit, he knew what he was doing—his hands were confident and steady, working out knots I didn't even know were there.
Slowly, his touch grew deeper, his palms warm and firm as they pressed and kneaded.
Since giving birth, my body had become a live wire—every sensation magnified, and this kind of attention was almost overwhelming.
A flush spread under my skin, warmth pooling low in my belly.
Thank God for the blindfold. He couldn't see how flustered I was, how my breath was starting to hitch.
The whole thing lasted over two hours. By the end, my face was hot, my breathing shallow.
Then, out of nowhere, Julian pressed down hard.
A moan slipped out before I could choke it back.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, horrified. My ears were on fire.
I couldn't see his face, but his voice came through, low and calm.
"There's a stubborn blockage right here, Mrs. Laurent. I need to work it out—it might be intense."
A brief pause. Then, softer, "Don't hold back. It's a natural response."
I wanted the couch to swallow me whole. My toes curled against the leather.