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My chest tightens and I pinch my lips together in an effort to move forward with the most amount of kindness possible. Usually, that’s easy for me. I figure people become angry because of something that’s happened to them, not because of me. I can’t see their whole life. I don’t know their whole story. So, I don’t take anything personal. But right now, I’m teetering on an explosion.
I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly, continuing to work his back. “Why did you come here, really?”
He stills. I don’t even feel air filtering from his lungs.
I want to swallow the words up, drag them back into my mouth, and eat them like Skittles. Instead, I stand lifeless in the center of the room, working on my effleurage, praying he didn’t hear my question. I don’t know why. It’s a fair one. Why did he come here?
“I’m sorry?” He leans up, stretching his muscles with him. God, he’s gorgeous. He’s too gorgeous, and this whole thing is confusing as hell.
“Nothing. It was nothing.”
He nods and leans forward. “Okay then.”
Okay then?
My stomach sinks as I rub his back and listen to the soft sounds of a thunderstorm brewing in the distance. No rain yet, but it’s coming. For a second, my eyes close as I touch him. I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m thinking, or why the slight aggression in his tone gets me off like it does, but I want this man to do filthy things to me.
My clit throbs as I imagine him turning around. His rough hands on my body. His beard tickling my thighs. God, I bet I could do things to him that could make his day a whole lot better than just getting a massage.
I’ve been reading too many romance novels. I laugh to myself. That or I really need to get laid. Either way, apparently, I’m the girl that thinks her blow jobs could cure a lifetime of being miserable.
I’m pretty sure I giggle out loud when that thought crosses my mind, and it’s confirmed when the beast speaks.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Oh, I was thinking of something funny.”
“What?”
“It was weird.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, swiping oil on my face by accident.
“So, tell me.”
“No. You like your massages quiet, remember?”
“But you’re laughing. I want to know why.”
“It was nothing.” I rub his shoulder and work up to his neck before scratching into his hair lightly. “You were right. You need this. You should relax a little.”
He pushes up from the chair and turns around. His bare chest is toward me, and his stoic eyes are locked on mine. Heat is in the air, though I can’t explain why. “You’re laughing at me.”
“No.” I smile unintentionally. Can I swallow that down, too? “I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at myself.”
“What about?” he grumbles.
I swallow hard, trying to think of anything and everything… except what I was thinking. “I…”
“You’re making something up now. Just tell me the truth!”
“I was wondering what it takes to make you happy.”
He looks away. “What? Why? I’m happy.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second.”
His eyes go inward, and I watch him think over whatever he’s going to say next. When he finally speaks there’s a wild in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “What do you think it would take then… to make me happy.”
God, I want to tell him how good I’d be at sucking the demons straight from his cock, but I bite back the urge and shrug instead.
