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I swear I have to crane my neck every time I look at the guy. The stretch isalwayswelcomed.
“Never really read many of them,” I admit as I watch him cross the living room. Before he can even dare sit in the chair all the way across the room, I pat the seat next to mine.
He’s hesitant at my invitation but soon caves. “If you haven’t read much, then you’ll be surprised to find out that it is actually the best.”
Placing one cushion between our bodies, he stretches out his legs and lets out a low groan.
I’m moving toward him without realizing it. I don’t like seeing him in pain. “What hurts?”
“It’s fine,” he insists, but I’m not having it. Even if this guy is the most stubborn man I’ve ever met, I want to be able to help him ease some of the pain.
“Bryson, tell me. Maybe I can help.” I curl my fingers toward him and even dare to touch his thigh. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got the magic touch.”
He’s frowning before letting out a defeated sigh. “Everything hurts. When you have to carry a man up a slope, it can do some serious damage.” He rolls his shoulders to amplify his words.
“Okay, I can totally massage your shoulders. Even if I’m an amateur, I’m sure I can help somewhat.” Cracking my fingers, I hesitate when trying to figure out the best way to get my hands on him.
Bryson folds easily at my orders. All I have to do is demand him to sit on the floor at my feet and he’s there.
“If I make it worse, just tell me to stop,” I order softly before brushing my fingers against his neck.
His shirt is in the way, and I chew on my lip. Plucking at the fabric, I lean over him and try my hardest not to let the heat on my face get the best of me.
“Are you willing to take your shirt off for me?” I’m not going to admit that I want to see him bare chested, but if the opportunity crosses my path, I’m going to want to take it.
Bryson meets my eyes and I can’t tell what he thinks of my requests. If he’s uncomfortable, then I won’t push. That’s the last thing I want.
Instead of speaking, he leans forward and grips the back of his shirt. Giving it a tug, the shirt is gone in seconds, replaced with pale freckled skin. The front of his chest has a thin layer of copper hair, trailing down his chest and past his belly button.
For a second, I forget how to breathe. Flattening my hand against his back, I immediately want to drag my fingertips across each freckle, connecting the dots. How tempting. I want to touch him everywhere.
“Ready?” I ask, steadying my breath. What will he think if I start panting over his bareness? Need to focus. This is nothing but a helpful massage.
He simply grunts in response, groaning when I dig my thumb into his shoulder.
“It should be illegal to already feel a knot,” I mutter under my breath.
He’s got broad shoulders, plenty of space to touch. His body is radiating warmth, like a heater. I happily rub small circles, tracing the shape across his shoulder blades. No matter where I glide my hands, it feels like there’s no end to his back. So much room to explore.
After getting in an impressive amount of secret glances the day before, it’s satisfying getting the opportunity to touch him up close.
“You’ve got so many freckles,” I murmur, taking the small details in with appreciation. Noticing his ears redden, I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Got those everywhere.” A relieved sigh leaves his lips when I reach his spine. His head slacks and his body finally relaxes. If he felt uncomfortable at the start, all of that tension is gone.
The fire crackles, filling the room with the peaceful pops and soft noises that leave his lips. I’m clinging to each sound, enjoying myself a little too much.
Scooching forward, I tuck my thighs together at his sides. Breathing in, my stomach clenches. Bryson smells of sweat and hard work. Like aman. So musky and sexy and…
“Rue?”
Snapping out of the thought, I continue moving my hands like I hadn’t just gotten way lost in my head. Humming in response, he turns to look at me.
“Thank you. For this, and dinner.” He clears his throat and looks away like he’s embarrassed. “For coming all the way out here in the bum end of nowhere.”
Is it wrong that I want to kiss him? Even with that grouchy face of his, his words come out sounding so sincere. Instead of fondling his back, cradling those bearded cheeks of his sounds much more tempting.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I chuckle, deciding to keep my hands against his shoulder. Don’t want to scare him off, not yet. I don’t want him to think I’m just throwing myself in his direction just to get my way.
