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Still, even knowing the harsh truth, and vowing to not mix business with pleasure, I felt jittery going into this massage—as if it were some kind of date. Am I delusional? I had to wonder.
“Is everything okay?”
I flinched at the sound of his voice. Thankfully, there was nothing in sight to break this time. I turned around to face him. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“You were mumbling to yourself.”
“Oh…” I laughed nervously. “I do that sometimes.”
Without having to be asked, Dax lifted his shirt over his head. Okay then.
He was clearly more confident this time. I swallowed at the sight of his naked chest, which awakened an awareness between my legs. I wanted him like I’d never wanted a man before. But I had to remain professional. I wasn’t here to gawk at his body or get off on this relentless and inappropriate attraction. I was here to perform a simple task, and I needed to focus.
Get it together, Wren. You have one job to do. And it’s not a blowjob. Get your damn head out of the gutter.
Like last time, he stripped down to his boxers and covered himself with a towel. After he lay down, it was like déjà vu as I poured the oil and began to press my hands into his back. I was eventually able to get over my anxiousness as I lost myself in the process. As expected, he relaxed, too.
When I reached the end of my work on the back side of his body, I asked a burning question. “Do you want to turn over?”
His body tensed, and he didn’t say anything, so I knew he was hard again. Maybe he needed some encouragement.
“I think you should turn over. I couldn’t care less if you’re hard.”
His back just kept rising and falling.
I cleared my throat and went out on a limb. “Would it help if I told you I get aroused, too? You just can’t see it.”
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Okay, maybe that was a bit much. But it was true.
To my surprise, Dax slowly turned over, swiftly adjusting the towel over himself. He was indeed erect, based on the prominent bulge I could see. It looked like he might have been hiding a large snake under the towel.
Big dick…energy.
Wow.
Okay.
Focus.
I pressed my palms into his rock-hard chest and slid them down slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure. Now I could see his handsome face, which was a definite distraction. I tried not to look at it, but I kept failing. His eyes were closed as his neck arched a little. His Adam’s apple moved, and his chest rose and fell. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip at one point, and it was so sensual I felt like my panties were going to melt right off. The fact that he seemed turned on did not make my situation any easier. It was hot as fuck.
Standing at his side, I once again willed myself to focus on doing my job. Then I continued to slide my hands down the length of his chest to his torso, eventually working my way to his legs. Touching him from this angle was a glorious experience, even if it never went any further than this. I knew one thing: I would never forget this. And even if he never called me again, I would certainly never forget him.
A little while later, I moved to his head so I could work on his shoulders and eventually make my way down his chest from this angle. My breasts ended up positioned above his face, and I could feel the heat of his ragged breaths over them. My nipples turned to steel, craving each puff of air from him more than the last. As I rubbed my hands over his skin, I became consumed with an intense desire far greater than before. My imagination came out to play. I thought about what it would be like to lie on top of him, to grind over his rigid cock. My panties were wet from merely touching him. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to actually be with him.
Moreover, I was confused about what this actually was. Did he really only want a massage? Because from the moment I walked in today, he’d made me feel like he wanted me. I hoped that was true. The feeling was mutual.
His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at me. They were hazy, and I could see even more clearly that he was just as turned on as I was. In fact, the current look in his eyes seemed like an invitation. That look convinced me to take a leap of faith, and I lowered my mouth—not to kiss him, but in the hopes that he would reach up to kiss me.
But he didn’t. Instead, he gripped my wrists, the sudden force jarring. “No,” he rasped.
