“How does a foam r—” He shook his head. “Never mind. My point is that I don’t need a massage, but I very much appreciate the offer. Now let’s discuss dinner options.”
“Please, Seb.” She put all her conviction into the words. “Iwant to do this for you. To feel like I’m contributing in some way.”
“I don’t know.” For once, his emotions had carved themselves so deeply onto his face, even a stranger could have read them. Reluctance. Worry. Longing. “This may not be a good idea.”
“It’ll be fine. I got a good night’s sleep last night, thanks to you, so I have plenty of energy. And if you let me get my hands on you, I swear you’ll feel better.” She wiggled her fingers again. “I know what I’m doing.”
His eyes shut tight for a moment. “I believe you.”
“So?”
The answer was a long time coming. “Okay.”
“Okay?” She grinned at him, delighted. “As in, okay, I can give you a massage?”
With a sigh, he opened his eyes and nodded. “Let’s do this.”
SIX
Sebastián didn’t understand quitehow it had happened. Somehow, he appeared to be sitting at his own kitchen table, naked from the waist up, oiled like a particularly shiny extra in the movie300, considerable pain radiating through various parts of his body, with Lucy’s hands all over him.
She used her elbow to combat a tough knot in his left shoulder, and he almost wept. To his dismay, he did let out a sort of grunt.
Maybe more of a whimper, if he were being honest about it.
She paused in her torture. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he managed to grit out.
It was a daydream that had twisted into a nightmare. He was half-naked, and Lucy was touching him, but he couldn’t touch her back, and she apparently harbored a heretofore unknown tendency toward sadism.
Worst of all? Despite the agony, he still had an erection. His cock had perked up at the first touch of Lucy’s fingertips on his bare skin. Not even her knuckles, or—God help him—her sharp, sharp elbows, could dissuade it from its considerable enthusiasm.
His cock was basically Hairy Garcia, only less likely to be petted by Lucy.
At that thought, it strained at the leash of his pants again.
“With most clients, I’d work up to this level of pressure, but we don’t have months of sessions ahead of us. I need to give you as much relief as possible, as quickly as possible. Plus, you said you wanted it hard.”
Oh, he did. He really did.
That kiss on the bed had almost broken him. Before she’d moved to his side, he’d been one millisecond away from dragging her beneath him and sliding a hand under that convenient skirt of hers. And fuck, when she’d imposed distance between them, he’d wanted to snatch her back against him and erase those hateful inches.
But he wouldn’t make more of a friendly kiss than was warranted. She might not have ever demonstrated her affection in quite that way before, but it wasn’t out of character for her. Not surprisingly for a massage therapist, she was a toucher. Always had been. She nudged, she hugged, she high-fived, she poked, and apparently she kissed too.
It wasn’t her fault that his body and emotions misinterpreted innocent gestures.
He could have sworn something dark and pained had dawned in her soft eyes when he’d walked away, though. Something like what he felt every time he thought about her leaving.
It doesn’t matter. No matter how she feels, you’ve shown and told her too much already.
Maybe a little conversation would calm his confused body. Worth a shot, he guessed. “How did your session go this afternoon?”
Her hands paused, and he tried not to cheer. Although hehad to admit it: When he rolled his shoulders now, they felt…different. Loose. Weightless. Like she’d lightened the burden there, just like she’d lightened all the other burdens in his life.
Except his stupid intransigent erection, of course.
“—normal, except at the end.”
