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The hypothetical doesn’t do anything for me, but moments when we’re together, when his hands are on me or my arms are wrapped around him, get me hot under the collar. My blood buzzes, and the prospect of whatcouldcome next makes me want to try it.
The only thing holding me back is fucking up what we already have.
I only half close the bathroom door as I drop my shorts onto the tile and grab a towel that’s been neatly folded under the sink. It’s soft, overly fluffy, and expensive, I’d bet. I think of Ford, the enormous wall of tattooed man, and picture him walking into a store to buy the best towels they sell. Who knew he was a creature comforts kind of guy?
The creak of a floorboard outside lets me know he’s back, and I quickly sling the towel around my waist before he can cop an eyeful. As much as I’d love to stand here, pretending to dry my hair and do the wholeoops, is my dick hanging out?thing, I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.
He nudges the door open, leaning against the opening, and without a word, his eyes roam greedily over my body. Seeing such raw appreciation sets my skin alight, fizzes up the nerves in my gut, and makes me want to step closer and offer for him to take a closer look.
“Didn’t want to be a prude,” he says.
“You good now?” I ask, holding back my smile.
He hums. “It’d be better without the towel.”
“You’ve gotta earn those kinds of privileges.” My gaze snags on the small bump beneath his T-shirt. “Besides, I still haven’t seen that nipple piercing.”
“That’s a privilege you’ll never earn.”
The sweats he tosses me hit me right in the face. I laugh, removing them and resisting the urge to hold them to my nose and inhale. I get a good whiff anyway. Washing powder and his scent. “You’re underestimating how persuasive I can be.”
“That so?” His eyes narrow. “Just how do you plan on being persuasive?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
He hangs his head back and steps out of the room. “Get those on, and I’ll grab the aloe cream.”
I listen to his heavy footsteps disappear down the hall, then drop the towel. I’m all twisted up butso alive. It feels like a whole other world since I got nervous and excited over someone. Since I craved their attention. Their company. And while Tara will always be with me and I’ll always regret that she was taken from me too soon, I think it’s okay to be feeling this way again. To … live. Tara was a big-hearted person, and seeing this solitary shell I’ve become would have disappointed her.
Sure, both of us would have preferred things turned out differently, but I’m here now. In Ford’s home. With a dry mouth and clammy hands, feeling the beginnings ofsomething.
I tug the sweats on and have to roll them at my hips a couple of times to make them stay up.
“You decent?” he calls, coming back down the hall.
“Wish I wasn’t,” I call back.
Ford walks into the room, and it’s only when he’s right in front of me that I’m aware of how small his bathroom is. “Wanna turn around?”
Instead of giving him an answer I’m not sure I can come up with, I just do it. Turn in the tight space, put my back to him, and ignore the way my body tingles, overly aware of his presence.
The click of the cap of moisturizer sends shivers down my spine, and every nerve ending prickles with anticipation of him touching me. There’s a long moment, stretched out between us, where nothing happens apart from his soft breathing behind me, and then … his hands close over my shoulders.
I try to stay still as he massages the smooth cream out along my skin. His fingers work the muscle, thumbs driving into the knot between my shoulder blades before lightly sweeping up my sunburned neck. His hands are large, rough, confident, quickly turning me to jelly.
All of my self-control is being used to stop me from making shameless noises under his massage, especially when he reaches my back, where he can increase the pressure. This isn’t helping someone out with a sunburn; this is the kind of touch that I’ve craved for years without realizing it. Not the same as hungry groping, but deeper. The kind of touch that holds respect, need, and the aim to make the person you’re with feel incredible.
Ford’s breathing has gotten heavier, his hands moving slower but firmer over my skin. Traveling lower on my back, leaving no muscle tense.
I’m so lost in his hands that it takes me a moment to realize that the good feelings are pooling in my groin. I’m hard, cock pressing against the sweats, but the lusty need isn’t all-consuming. It’s … nice. Constant. A pleasant ache I haven’t felt in a really long time.
My self-control fizzles away, and my moan spills out between us.
Ford chuckles, but it’s humorless. “Enjoying this?”
“Sunburn never felt so good.”
His answering sound is low and gravelly. “Never massaged a straight man before.”
