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I shifted toward him, and extended my legs out, leaning back on the rock and bracing myself on the palms of my hands.
With firms hands he gripped a calf, and gently pressed into the muscle. I moaned, and closed my eyes. “Oh, that feels so good.”
A zing of electricity ran up my back. His strong hands worked out the tension.
I opened my eyes and looked down at him. His blond curly hair touched the top of his ears. His eyes were intent on my legs.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” I almost panted.
“After I broke my leg, I had massages weekly, sometimes twice a week.” He never stopped pressing and rubbing, working his way up my calf. “The break was so close to my ankle, the bones fused together when they healed. There was a lot of calcium build up. The therapist was trying to loosen it up.”
I was mesmerized by his hands as they moved closer to my knee. Pressing and kneading, his strong hands sending licks of fire through my legs. I tried not to squirm.
“You took a tough hit,” I practically panted.
In a self-deprecating tone, he said, “Career ending.”
“I’m sorry, Jacob. I know that was devastating.”
He looked up at me but was silent.
“Does it still hurt?”
He moved to my other leg.
“Sometimes.” He looked up at me and smiled. “When it’s cold.”
I smirked, momentarily distracted by his attempt at a joke. “And you live in Jackson.”
He shrugged, and went back to work.
My legs parted at the release of tension. His massage changed. His hands became more soothing. Fingers caressed in between stronger pressure. My breath came in short pants.
Quietly, I asked him, “Were you at the 2016 Olympics, Jacob?”
He didn’t respond. He was lost in touching me.
“Why?” I asked again.
Softly, he said, “I wanted to see you win.”
His hands reached the side of my thighs, working out the tension.
Then he stopped, and sat back on his haunches.
I leaned forward. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We hadn’t spoken in four years. I didn’t want to distract you. And I didn’t know what to say.” He frowned. “I’m sorry you missed that jump.”
We both just stared at each other, neither of us moving.
Slowly he stood. “Don’t stay out here too long.” And then he walked off, leaving me in a puddle of desire.
Eventually, I made my way back to the camp. Everyone was already tucked in.
I unzipped my tent and stepped in. Nora had a head lamp on and was reading a book.
I shrugged out of my shorts and snuggled into my sleeping bag.
Nora lifted her lamp off her head, pointing it toward the top of the tent. “How long have you been in love with him?”
“Who?” I whispered.
She was silent.
I sighed. “As long as I can remember.”
