Boyfriend.
That word keeps echoing in my mind like it’s trying to stake a permanent claim. Aspen said it so easily, like it’s already been decided.
Maybe it has.
Maybe I want it to be.
I should be terrified. But instead, I feel… steady. I think that’s what Aspen does to me, he quiets the noise. He makes the storm inside me feel like it’s just weather, not the end of the world.
I don’t know what I did to deserve Aspen, but I’m scared to lose it before I even get the chance to fully hold it.
As Caesar continues to undo my knots, I still imagine Aspen, but now more heated. I picture his hands, his lips, his smile, his everything.
I want him.
I imagine his strong hands massaging me, relieving my back of any tension I may have, until my brain snaps back to reality. This is going to be tortuous for me, but I can also make it tortuous for Aspen if I wanna have a little fun. I’ll make sure to share my appreciation extra loud to tell Caesar, but mainly Aspen, just how much I like his massage.
32
Aspen
I don’t know what I did to deserve this.
I’m being punished.
Genevieve is sprawled out beside me, soft moans slipping from her lips while Caesar rubs oil into her back. She sounds like she’s getting railed not massaged, and it’s driving meinsane. I swear she’s doing it on purpose her breathy little sighs, the way she bites her lip and hums. It’s sexy as hell and somehow makes the whole room feel hot.
Too hot.
I glance at the masseuses. Yep, uncomfortable. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here getting worked over by some dude named Gavin, trying not to die from a combination of jealousy and a stubborn boner I’mdefinitelygoing to have to deal with later.
After about an hour of being tortured by the sight and sound of Genevieve melting under another man’s hands, we make our way to the shared steam room. And man… what a mistake not coming here sooner. The spa at Smoky Pine Ridge is aparadise. The heat, the quiet, the smell of eucalyptus hanging thick in the air. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced, and I work here. Years I could’ve been doing this forfree. What the hell was I thinking?
The steam curls around us like we’ve stepped into a dream. I stretch out, pretending to let it “cleanse” my skin or whatever it’s supposed to do, but really I’m just trying to hide the fact that my towel is barely concealing thevery realproblem I have underit. Between her moans earlier and the way the sweat beads on her glowing skin now, Genevieve has my restraint hanging by a thread.
She’s lounging a few feet away, looking too damn good, and I can’t stop myself. I shift closer, lean down and kiss her. The kiss is soft and a little damp from the steam.
“How are you enjoying yourself?” I murmur, brushing my thumb along her chin.
She smiles, lazy and content. “Everything has been amazing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, beautiful,” I tell her and it comes out rougher than I expect. I’m holding on by a thread.
I force myself to lean back and let the silence settle in again. I try to relax. But the only thing I can think about is her; how good she smells, how she looked on that table and how she’s looking at me now.
***
After the steam room, we hit the little spa store and buy the cheapest swimsuits we can find just so we can get into the hot spring. It’s dusk now and the steam rising off the surface of the spring looks ethereal, like something out of a dream.
We smear these silly mud masks from a kiosk over our faces, some miracle blend that’s supposed to make your skin look ten years younger. I don’t really buy it, but Gen swears by it, so I’m in. I’d do anything she asked me to right now, honestly.
Ten minutes later we dive under the surface, letting the water wash the clay away. The heat hits me like a hug; comforting, deep. The world goes quiet except for the slow ripple of water and the occasional sigh from Gen. It feels like we’re the only people on Earth.
“You know there’s history here?” I say turning toward her.
She raises her brows, curious. God, I love when she looks at me like that, like she wants to absorb everything I say. Like I’m interesting.
“Tell me,” she says and wraps her arms and legs around me. The feel of her body, slick against mine—lotions, oils, water, all of it—it’s so intimate I almost forget what I was going to say. I hold her easily, keeping her close, grounding myself with the weight of her.
