Page 54

“You really don’t have to. I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“Stop.” Cally slid off his bed to stand at the edge of mine, his hands flexing at his sides.

“I’m sorry, Cal,” I said looking up at him. “I wouldn’t ask otherwise, but I’m fucking dying here.”

“It’s okay.” He blew out a breath. “I want to help. Let me help. Please.”

“Okay. Um … lemme just …” Bracing my forearms, I dragged my body over a few inches at a time in awkward little scoots until I’d gotten close enough to the edge that it’d be easy for him to reach me.

“Right side, down low, right?”

I tugged a pillow under my head and chest, folded my arms around it, and turned my face away. “Yeah.”

I heard his feet shuffle on the carpet and then Cally flattened his hands over my lower back, warm even through the fabric of my shirt, and pressed in with the heel of his palm. “There?”

“Yeah.”

He put his full weight into it then, and I felt the knot start to give—then my shirt rode up and his palm skidded away. Cally muttered a curse, tugged my hem back down, and tried again. But bent over me like this, nearly every time he’d get the pressure right, he’d slide off the spot.

“Hold on,” he said the third time it happened, his hands lifting away. Then there was a rustle of fabric and the muffled sound of his knees meeting the floor before his hands landed on me again, the angle different now. “It should be easier like this.”

His thumb dug into the spot he’d been working before, rotating in a slow, deep circle.

“Fuck, yes. That’s it.”

“Harder?”

I moaned, the hairs on my arms standing on end. “Yeah. Gimme more.”

Cally’s hands went still, and I turned my head to see that his eyes were closed, his lips clamped tightly between his teeth. He blew a breath out through his nose, then opened his eyes and folded forward to dig his left elbow into the far side of my back. The new position had his chest pressed against my side, his head resting on my shoulder, close enough that I could breathe in the dark, sweet citrus smell of his shampoo.

My shirt shifted again, throwing Cally off balance and pitching him forward. He landed on top of me with an oof and quickly pushed himself away.

“Sorry, fuck,” he mumbled, sitting back on his heels and carding a hand through his hair. “I can’t get it like this. The leverage is wrong.”

I had an idea of what might work, but I was hesitant to mention it given how skittish he could be. But desperate times called for desperate measures and all that, and I was more than desperate at this point. I was in agony.

“Would it help if you were up here?” I asked, making sure to keep my voice as neutral as possible while scootching toward the center of the mattress to make space for him.

He chewed on his bottom lip. “It would, but I’d have to, umm …”

“Straddle me. Yes, I know how massages work, Cal.” I grinned at him, patting the bed. “It’s no big deal. Get on up here.”

Cally sat there for several seconds, giving me enough time to wonder why he was looking at me all weird and concerned like when it occurred to me that while it was no big deal to me if he straddled my legs, it might be a big fucking deal to him.

I pushed up onto my forearms. “Are you actually okay doing this? I know you’re not all touchy-feely and shit like me, so if this makes you uncomfortable, or⁠—”

“No, it’s … no.” He shook his head, his brows remaining furrowed. “It’s good. I’m good.”

“Really?” I asked, injecting skepticism into my tone. “Because you don’t look good.”

He blinked and glanced away, his expression flattening out. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He pressed his hands into the mattress and pushed to his feet. “Let’s do this.”

“Wait.” I tugged at the hem of my shirt. “Lemme take this off since it keeps fucking things up.” I got the fabric up over my shoulders and worked it off, which hurt like a bitch, and then dropped it off the side of the bed and settled back down. “Work your magic, Cal.”

The bed dipped on my right side when Cally put one knee down, then the other, the springs shifting as he settled himself over the backs of my thighs. He kept his weight off me; the only place we touched were his hands on my back.

“Okay, I’m gonna start again,” he murmured and I nodded.