Massaging Ellie was yet another line to add to my list of terrible ideas lately. Now with my hands on her, I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her again. Touching more of her. My gaze strayed to where the folded sheet just barely covered her ass, then I looked up at the ceiling and swallowedhard.
I needed a distraction from how soft her skin was, and apparently my mind was still stuck on Lovejoy’s first question.
“You said you want kids?” I asked the ceiling.
“Oh yeah.” Ellie hummed, practically melting against the table as my hands worked down her back. I pressed my thumbs along her spine, rubbing them in deliberate circles. “A whole house full. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”
That simple sentence shouldn’t have tightened something in my chest the way it did. Maybe it was better not to talk. Better to focus on the massage and her impossibly soft skin and the slim neck I wanted to lick and bite and?—
“You’re really good at this,” Ellie murmured, oblivious to where my mind had gone.
My hands flexed against her. I needed to distance myself from her neck and sweet words. “How about I get your legs, too?”
“Yes please,” she said with a happy sigh.
Another terrible idea. I’d never been a feet guy, but that changed the second I took one of hers in my hands. Rubbing Ellie’s toes and working the oil between each one was a special kind of torture.
I worked the oil up her legs with slow precision. My fingers brushed the sheet at her thighs, and I paused, resisting the temptation to inch it higher.
The sounds leaving Ellie had changed, too. Her breathing picked up, toes curling. She cleared her throat, not so oblivious anymore.
I forced myself to start back at her ankles, then went up her legs again.
The room was quiet. No therapy questions. No talking. Just Ellie’s increasingly shallow breaths and my focus on kneading her smooth, gorgeous skin.
The further I rubbed up her thighs, the tenser Ellie’s muscles grew. With each inch closer to her backside, her legs would twitch apart a little further, like an invitation. The sheet crawled up with the movement, and my thumbs pressed harder in reflex.
A soft moan spilled from Ellie’s lips, which made me instantly hard.
I started at her ankles again. With each pass of my hands up her legs, my throat grew drier. My brain felt disconnected from my body. I didn’t know how long I spent kneading the muscles in her thighs, but I itched to reach higher. To rip that damn sheet off her ass and?—
“Cade,” Ellie breathed, and I froze with my fingers digging into her upper thighs. Her fingers fisted the sheet underneath her. “…Please touch me.”
The tension building in my shoulders snapped like a rubber band at the quiet thread of desperation in her voice. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”
patience
. . .
Ellie
Ellie’s Guide toProfessional CuddlingBeing a Fake FiancéeNOT Falling for Your Fake FiancéHiding Any Trace that You’ve Fallen for Your Fake FiancéKeeping It TogetherSurviving as a Fake Fiancée, Tip #24: Always lock the door before getting naked with your pretend fiancé. Seriously. Right now. Go lock it.
When I woke up this morning, did I think I’d end up lying naked on a table and basically begging for Cade to touch me?
No.
…But I wasn’tunhappywith the turn of events.
Cade’s hands must’ve been dusted with fairy magic, because everywhere he touched, my skin prickled with heat. What’d been a normal massage turned into a toe-curling, back-arching production in a matter of minutes.
I wanted more—neededhis hands to move higher up my thighs.
But Cade didn’t seem in any rush. Instead of going where I needed him, he slowly worked his hands back down mythighs. I was completely naked under this sheet, my nipples had hardened against the table, and he wastaking his time?
“What are you waiting for?” I scowled, spreading my legs another inch apart and hoping he took the hint.
He exhaled a laugh. “Patience, Ellie.”
