Page 68 of My Real Love Affair

“Exactly. Which is why you need to relax.” He was using that smooth, persuasive voice that probably got him whatever he wanted. “Come on, Melody. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Austin.”

“I’ll take it easy on you. Just your shoulders. Nothing weird.” He gestured to the table. “Five minutes. If you hate it, I’ll stop.”

This was a terrible idea. This was violating at least three of my ground rules. But my shoulders did hurt. And the idea of his hands working out that tension was appealing.

“You’re not a masseuse.” It was a lame argument.

“I think I know what I’m doing.”

It was a choice. I didn’t have a crystal ball, but I knew what would happen if I let him massage my shoulders. I could say no. Get a drink and then go home. Clean. Simple. Sticking to the rules.

Or I could climb on that table and let nature take its course. I wasn’t that naive. I knew where it would lead. I could see the lines we would cross.

“Five minutes,” I heard myself say. “That’s it.”

“Five minutes,” he agreed.

I climbed onto the table, lying face down. My heart was hammering. This was fine. This was just a massage. People got massages all the time. It didn’t mean anything.

Austin’s hands settled on my shoulders, warm even through my dress.

Oh.

His thumbs found the knots immediately, applying pressure that was just this side of painful. I couldn’t help the small sound that escaped me.

“Tense?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“Shut up.”

He worked on my shoulders, methodical and thorough. Then down my spine. I felt myself melting into the table, all the tension from the evening slowly dissolving under his hands.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For tonight. For coming with me.”

“You didn’t really give me a choice.”

“I know. That was shitty of me. My dad can be a lot. I should have warned you.”

“Yes, you should have.” But I couldn’t muster any real anger. Not when his hands were doing magical things to my lower back.

“I’m sorry. About my father. About what he said.” His hands moved to my hips. I tensed again for entirely different reasons. I considered reminding him about the only shoulder rule, but it felt too good. “He doesn’t understand. Anything, really.”

“I understand you better now.”

“What do you mean?” Austin asked, hands pausing for a second and then starting up again.

“That conversation we had. About pressure. About expectations.”

“What about it?”

“It couldn’t have been easy,” I said. “Growing up with that. Having a father who sees you as a disappointment. A father whodoesn’t believe you’re capable of change or growth. That’s tough, Austin.”

His hands had stilled on my hips.

“I said the wrong thing,” I said quickly, starting to push up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

His hands moved up my spine. He wasn’t massaging anymore. He was touching. Exploring. It sent shivers through my entire body. He brushed my hair off the back of my neck, and I felt his lips there.