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“No,” she said. “I don’t think having your wife solve your problems for you at work would help your situation.”
He nodded.
“I meant to help you relax and forget your troubles.”
His eyes widened in surprise then narrowed in suspicion.
“Like what?”
“I give a decent back massage.”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
“You want to touch me? You’ve been avoiding me since our talk.”
She turned away, taking the plates to the kitchen. “Forget it.”
She heard him get up and follow her. She turned back around to face him.
“I guess I wanted to put the past behind us. To start over fresh. I still hate that I was brought here, but you are my only friend. You take care of me, and I wanted to show you that I appreciate it.”
Ugh. She wanted to barf just saying those words.
“But you’re probably right that touching you isn’t the best idea. Maybe I could make you breakfast in the morning instead.”
“No,” he said, a little too quickly. She’d be offended, but evenshethought her scrambled eggs sucked.
“A massage sounds nice,” he said. “I’ve never had one before.”
“Really? A rich guy like you can’t afford a massage?”
“It’s not something you can buy here.”
He stood facing her, looking awkwardly around him. “What do I do?”
She turned a chair toward him. “Sit. Facing the back of the chair.”
He did as she instructed. He had a broad back and powerful shoulders covered in the simple cotton shirt most of the men wore, though his did appear to be made from nicer material than the one Mak had worn. Suddenly a little nervous to touch him, she placed her palms on his shoulders near his neck. She felt the shape of the necklace underneath his shirt but ignored it as she dug her thumbs into his muscles. He really was tense.
He let out a groan so primal it sent shivers down her back and heat coursing between her legs. She resisted the sudden desire to lean into him and rubbed circles wherever she felt a knot instead.
She moved her hands down his back, continuing to find tight muscles and loosening them as best she could. She’d learned to give massages when she’d needed to be an undercover masseuse for a theft a few years ago. She’d hated it, having to rub strangers’ bodies, but she’d learned to do it right. She’d never gotten turned on by it before though, nor by the noises coming out of her client’s mouth.
She suddenly wished Altair was naked. She wanted her hands on his bare skin. She wanted to take his shirt off and feel how those hard muscles felt directly against her palms. But it wasn’t time yet. She needed him to be so overcome with lust that he wouldn’t notice or care that the necklace came off with the shirt. And he wasn’t there yet.
“Is it good?” she asked after he released a moan that she was more used to hearing from lovers than massage clients.
“I want your hands all over me,” he said, his voice low and raw.
She brought her hands up to massage his scalp, enjoying the soft feel of his hair running through her fingers. She could smell the light smell of his shampoo mixed with a manly odor. She leaned in, pressing her breasts against his back and enjoying the feel of him.
“Meghan,” Altair growled.
The sound of that name brought her back to reality.
What theshardwas she doing anyway? She was supposed to be turninghimon, not herself.
She brought her hands back down to massage his neck, the only place where she could reach his soft skin. She rubbed her thumb along the tendons on the side of his neck as he leaned his head to the side to give her better access.
