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“Ha.” I tilt my head, so he has better access to my right shoulder. “Might have to get one of those neck rollers or a massage gun.”
“Might.” He brushes my hair to one side, and his thumb slides down the length of my spine. I can feel his breath against the back of my neck, and I’m wrapped in his cologne. It’s the same one he’s always worn, and it feels like I could close my eyes and be nineteen again. Another sigh comes out of me before I can stop it—one that sounds like a soft moan—and I bite my lower lip when I feel his hands stutter in their motion.
He clears his throat and then gently brushes my hair to the other side, taking up the same pattern there. His fingers knead the muscles in a simple rhythm, but one that has me practically melting. My eyes close, and I focus on how relaxed I feel. Letting it bring back wave after wave of memories of what it felt like falling for him all those years ago. How easy it felt to be around him. How right his touch always felt on my body.
“You’ve got a lot of tension in your neck.”
“I have a lot of stress.”
“Oh yeah? Day job that hard?”
“When the day job is also a night job and an every-waking-moment job, and sometimes even an in-my-dreams job, yes.”
“Dreaming about me?” I hear the self-satisfied tone in his voice.
“Panicked half-awake dreams about you doing something that gets me fired.”
“I wouldn’t let them fire you. I’d quit if they tried.”
“Then they might fire both of us.”
We laugh and then he pulls a little closer to me. His arm wrapping around the front of my chest from one shoulder to the other as he pulls me tight against him. I can feel the warmth of his body seeping into mine. His fingertips play over the curve of my shoulder.
“I had a dream the other night.” His voice is just above a whisper. “About that summer.”
“Oh?” It’s not even a word really, more of a sound.
“That first time you let me touch you. The sounds you made. So fucking sexy. I never knew how sexy a woman could sound until then.”
My heart beats faster in my chest, and I feel the flush come to my cheeks.
“Well, I was awkward and new to all of that. But you’re very familiar with it now if your DMs are any example.” I try to make a joke to deflect because I can’t handle talking about then. But he doesn’t laugh.
“I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Given the number of DMs you get, I’m not surprised.” I continue trying to change the subject.
“I mean that summer.” He ignores my attempts and blusters ahead.
“Quen…” I say softly. “This isn’t… Us going down memory lane—we can’t.”
His lips come close to my ear. “Why not?”
“You’re a client. I have a boyfriend. Do you want a list?”
“Just a simple question.”
“That doesn’t have a simple answer.”
His other hand falls to my hip, and he walks backward, pulling me with him and then pulling us both down onto the couch. I land in his lap, and I don’t fight it. I should. But the more time I spend around him, the more trouble I have keeping the distance between us.
“Then give me the complicated one.” His fingers slide over my shoulders, and he starts to work my muscles again. I lean into it, and the way it’s undoing all the knots has me thoroughly distracted. I try to focus—remember all the reasons I can’t fall for his charm again.
“It was a long time ago, Quentin. We were both different people then.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No. You were good to me. Too good honestly. Set some very unrealistic expectations for me and the next few guys I dated.” I laugh nervously, and I hear the faint rumble of his laugh follow.
