Untangling my hand from the top, I straightened up and looked at the hem of the dark t-shirt she’d borrowed. Despite the length of it on her, it had already ridden up to the tops of her thighs. I pinched it either side of her hips and eased it up, like doing it as delicately as possible would stop the way the reveal of her simple pink knickers hit me in the groin. Up it went, exposing the dips right at the lowest point of her back; vulnerable bare skin. When I reached the point her bra strap should have been I had to stop. I’d known it was likely she wasn’t wearing one, because I hadn’t felt the straps on her shoulders, but now there was confirmation.
I gave myself to the count of two, flooding my brain with the sight of her, hoping it would take the edge off the novelty and I could get on with the job at hand without distraction. My eyes traced the line of her spine, the way her waist came in and flared out into her rounded hips, the lace edging the cotton of her underwear, and the curve of each generous cheek…fuck, she wasgorgeous. I wanted to take handfuls of her body to squeeze and stroke and kiss and bite. Her personality was so vibrant and her body insisted on grabbing my attention too - I wanted to indulge in it, like I did when we bantered with each other. Would she push back in the same way or was she more submissive? How would she respond?
With pain and disappointment, I reminded myself. Because now was not the time. And even if she hadn’t been suffering, she was the one who had to make the first move. My restraint counted for nothing the moment I betrayed it. Every good intention might as well have not existed.
So, I picked a spot to stare at on the headboard before I slid my hand under the t-shirt, told myself the satin of her skin was no big deal, and the burn in my palm was just from the ointment, and concentrated on rubbing the tension away from her muscles. I don’t know how long I massaged her back for, only that she was relaxing, sinking into the mattress, her breathing easy now.
‘Want me to go any lower?’ I asked, as much to check on whether she was still awake.
‘Just a little. If you wouldn’t mind,’ her words were practically slurring together. ‘It’s helping so much. Thank you…so good.’
I closed my eyes briefly before doing as she asked. I didn’t bother with anymore of the deep heat because I’d probably used enough, I just brought both hands up and used bigger circles and then firm, flat-handed strokes to follow the line of her ribs. I pressed my thumbs into the divots either side of her spine and she let out a moan that made goose-bumps prickle all over my scalp and down my back.
‘Jesus. Yes. That’s it.’
I gritted my teeth and started counting. Five minutes. I could manage five more minutes. When I got to three hundred seconds, I eased back. ‘How’s that?’
She sighed. ‘So much better. Thank you. I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed in years.’
Huh, I didn’t think I’d ever been this tense…but she wasn’t in pain anymore, which was the important thing.
‘I’m just going to wash my hands and then I’ll leave you to sleep.’ I climbed off the bed and hurried into the en-suite. I could have done with a cold shower but after washing my hands and putting the deep heat away, dousing my head with water would have to do.
When I got the courage up to walk back through the bedroom, she’d eased onto her side and was already snoring softly. Wearing my t-shirt, sleeping in my bed…my heart gave an uncomfortable kick. What would it be like if this was normal life? If I was allowed to climb in next to her? Put my arm around her waist and pull her back into me, falling asleep with the scent of her hair in my lungs, and the feel of her soft body, relaxed and trusting, in the shelter of mine?
But she would be wrong to trust me. Wrong to let herself get used to any kind of relationship with me and it was selfish of me to want it, when I knew it could never last.
Chapter Forty-Two
Elle
Idon’t think I’d moved at all after rolling onto my side last night and curling up to take the pressure off my spine. Stephen had left me utterly, bone-meltingly relaxed and there was definitely drool on the pillow, just to add to the sexy impression he most likely had of me after I managed to seize up fromtypingtoo much.
Weirdly, I didn’t have it in me to be embarrassed or down-hearted though. I was a read-through away from submitting the final book of my series. I hadn’t failed. And, I was snuggled up in sheets that were cool and just the right side of worn, full of his scent and the menthol aroma of the ointment he’d rubbed into me with his oh-so talented hands.
My bodywasdesperate for more sleep, but if I shut my eyes again now, with a week of only getting three to four hours a night of shut-eye behind me, I wouldn’t wake up until the evening. Or possibly tomorrow. No matter how close I was to meeting it, I still had work to do to hit my deadline.
The apartment was bright and quiet, other than a very muffled rhythmic noise that I suspected was his washer. I sat up tentatively, rolling my shoulders and yes, there was a bit of an ache still, but I could immediately tell I wasn’t in for days of pain like I’d experienced in the past after hunching over my laptop for too long. My stomach swooped when I remembered Stephen’s firm but careful touch; the way he’d stroked my hair back and spoken softly and reassuringly to me when I’d been struggling.
My subconscious unhelpfully pointed it out as evidence that he was the kind who would talk you through it. I pressed my fingertips to my forehead, begging my brain not to go there.
As I swung my legs out of the bed, I spotted a note on the night table, alongside a fresh glass of water, a packet of ibuprofen and a banana.
Hope you are feeling better. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to and help yourself to anything. I’ve had to go into work - hopefully I didn’t disturb you. A spare key is on the kitchen counter and there is coffee in the pot.
He hadn’t bothered to sign it or put my name, which was curious. I would have thought someone so wedded to his manners would have had particular feelings about how to correspond correctly. For a moment, I considered the possibility that this was a generic note he kept for his one night stands. In his profession he could use work — even on a Sunday — the same way other men used “the gym” excuse…but no, this note was clearly for me, because he hoped I felt better. Unless he had a kink for girls who weren’t feeling well, it was unlikely to fit every overnight visitor he had.
Shrugging off thoughts of the other women he might have had in this bed and given more than a massage, I took advantage of the enormous shower in his ensuite. The amazing water pressure and room to move my elbows made it marginally less hideous to get back into my sweaty clothes from the day before. As well as the fruit and anti-inflammatory breakfast he’d laid out for me, he’d also left a paper bag with a wrapped bagel in it by the coffee machine. Like a trail of caring breadcrumbs. I swallowed over the fluttering in my chest at his level of thoughtfulness and sat at the island in the kitchen, eating the bagel and examining his temporary home, now that my work/Stephen blinkers had been removed.
It was basically one big luxurious space pointed towards a fantastic view, but with the balcony and the spiral staircase, I suspected his work probably arranged it rather than it being his choice. And I’d been totally right about him being a neat freak. Everything had a home, every surface wiped before he even left the apartment for work. The clothes in the machine looked like athletic wear, so he’d been out for a run already. Morning people were something else. I should have taken it as yet another sign that it made us totally incompatible but really…how awesome would it be to have a partner who got up early and made breakfast? Someone who knew how to look after himself and didn’t expect you to pick up after him.
Suddenly, I couldn’t finish the bagel. Because who was I kidding? Stephen did not want to be anyone’s partner. I gathered my stuff and went home.
Back at my apartment, I plugged in my dead cell phone and groaned at the number of messages and notifications I was going to have to trawl through once I got my book sent off. I answered one from Keisha I’d received on Wednesday though.
Keisha:How is the book shaping up? Not heard from you in days so I guess you’re working hard. Let me know if you need anything.
Me:I have indeed been hard at it. Nearly there. Any chance you’re free this morning? It would be amazing to have another set of eyes to read through it.
