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“No problem,” she replied. “See you tomorrow.”
I dropped the bowl in the sink, then went to answer the door and stood on the threshold as John jumped out of his truck. In profile, his lean, corded body, clad in dark blue wranglers, scuffed brown boots, a fresh white tee, and that telltale Stetson on, screamed classic Texan.
He shut the door and then headed to me. I stepped in and away to let him in, kicked the door closed with my heel, and then leaned on it. “Long day, cowboy?”
“The longest,” he took his hat off and dropped it on a table. “I’m thinking I’ll be needin’ some TLC to get over it.”
“Right this way,” I said, taking his hand and leading him to my bedroom. “Shoes and shirt, off.”
While I went to my bathroom for the massage oil, I heard the thump of his boot and the soft susurration of him shucking his shirt. Steeping in, John’s back was a work of art and a beautiful sight. My gaze trailed over his skin, mapping every muscle, his flexing shoulder right down to his tight obliques.
“On your belly,” I ordered.
His head swiveled to look at me with the bottle in my hand. “You’re going to give me a massage, sweetheart?”
“Yep,” I replied. “Probably not the best one you’ve had, but I know how to work tension out of a man.”
He chuckled, his tone warm and rich before he did as I asked and laid on his belly, pillowing his head with his arms. I straddled his upper thighs and ran my hands up his back first, sliding my fingers up his nape and into his hair, scratching the soft, sensitive scalp.
His soft moan reverberated through his back, and I smiled a few more times while doing it. “Relax, John. Whatever happened out there is out there. Forget them.”
“Aren’t I the one who is supposed to be comforting you?” He twisted his head to look at me.
“This comforts me,” I said, popping the bottle and drizzling some on his back. A droplet arched over his shoulder and dropped on the sheets.
“Shouldn’t you have laid a towel down first?” he asked.
“I planned on getting these sheets washed anyway,” I said, digging the heels of my palms into his upper back, right under his shoulders. His muscles were tense and rigid, and I used my thumbs, pressing them into circles as I rubbed his firm skin.
Fixing my thumbs on either side of his spine, I ran both hands right up to his nape and eased the pressure on the way down. His constant groans and moans were making other thoughts circle through my head.
I worked at him until the tension was all gone from his body, his breathing had evened out, and I thought he was asleep. Gently, I swung my body from him, took the bottle back to the bathroom, and washed my hands.
Back in the bedroom, I dimmed the lights and crawled into bed with him, not really minding the rough touch of his jeans as they brushed my skin—except the jeans were gone, and the moment I slid under the covers, John grabbed hold of me.
“Thanks for working the kinks out, sweetheart,” he murmured, trailing his mouth from my ear to my lips, but he bypassed my lips and nuzzled my throat. “You said you planned on washing these sheets, right?”
“Uh-huh,” I was already panting.
His hands had strayed up my tank top and teased my ribs before cupping my breast. He grasped the edge of my blouse with his teeth and tugged it up to my chin, baring my body before his mouth sealed over a turgid tip.
I dimly heard what sounded like rain pattering against the roof, and soon that pattern became a steady stream. I arched my back to press my body further into his hand, aching for him to strip me bare and have his way with me. I wanted to give him anything and everything.
I notched my knees to the waistbands on his pants and began to push them, pleased with myself when I got them an inch down. He chuckled and grabbed at my knees.
“Feeling a little needy, huh? Patience never killed anyone, sweetheart.”
“Easy for you to say,” I laughed. “You’re not the one dripping like the rain outside.”
He rutted his groin against mine while reaching up to kiss me, and I loved feeling the rasp of the day’s beard growth against my cheek, the rough material of his jeans against my inner thighs, and the smooth slickness of his skin. Each contrasting sensation made my already sensitive nerves raw, making his kiss much sweeter.
He skillfully swept his tongue between my lips in a soul-stealing, deeply passionate kiss that left no doubt in my mind about how I needed him inside me. John pressed open-mouthed kisses to my jaw and throat, sucking slightly with each kiss and making my core drip with anticipation.
Gently, he stripped me, stitch by stitch, and paused to kick off his jeans before rejoining me in the bed. He turned me on my side, kissing down my jaw and neck. His hands felt like they were everywhere, sliding over my side, over my trembling belly, and hitched my leg up.
“Your body is like a playground,” he murmured in my ear.
“Y-yeah?” I laughed softly. “You figure?”
