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The man looks like I just told him he won the lottery. No, forget that. He looks like he just got a delivery of the world's biggest chocolate chip cookie. How can I not fall in love with a man so excited to please me? How can I walk away?
He's addicting.
The eucalyptus massage oil he comes back with smells amazing. He gives it a suspicious sniff though, making me laugh. "Didn't you smell it already in the store?"
He wrinkles up his face. "I did, but I just wanted to make sure. Sometimes the smells change."
I lean forward as he settles on the floor in front of me. It's a good thing I checked for pajama bottom gaps earlier, because the man has an excellent view from where he's sitting.
"What do you mean the smell changes?"
He pours a small pool of oil into his hands, then raises his eyebrows at me. I slide forward, tuck a pillow behind me, and happily drop my feet onto his bare knees. He grunts happily and rubs his hands together. "I mean they change. The mall was busy and everyone was wearing perfume and cologne. This store had so many different smells in it. There was a little machine shooting smelly smoke into the air. My nose was overloaded."
"A diffuser," I say, grinning at him. "But from now on, I'm going to call them 'smelly smoke' machines."
"Diffuser," he mumbles as he picks up my left foot, and smooths his hands along the bottom. I bite my lip to hold in the moan. "What is it for?"
"Um...you put essential oils in it, and add water. It makes your house smell nice."
He grunts. "I guess it depends which smell you choose." It's clear he's not completely engaged in our conversation. His entire focus on the foot he's rubbing. But now that he's touching me, I can't seem to stop talking.
"You...ah, you're really good at that. You sure you haven't been out there, giving massages to all your brothers?"
He dry heaves, and shakes, not letting go of my foot. "Don't. Don't even joke about it. Ugh."
"I'm sorry!" I say, giggling. "I didn't mean to make you heave." He glares at me, but there's so much warmth in his expression, I'm not even a little intimidated. I give him a smile, and I see an answering tug at the corner of his mouth.
I sit in silence, watching his hands travel over my skin. He presses his thumb right below my big toe, and a moan escapes. Jonas's hands freeze, and he looks at me with raised brows. I wiggle my foot and stare pointedly. His grin breaking through, he returns to the massage, making sure to press that spot again.
"You're a big tease," I murmur, feeling like my bones are dissolving.
"A tease? Doesn't that imply that I will touch you, then leave you unfulfilled?"
A wheeze escapes. "Well...I guess so."
"Oh Janey," he purrs, pressing a kiss just above my ankle. "I would never leave you unfulfilled. All you have to do is say yes."
I stare at him, at the absolute confidence on his face, and feel like I'm in middle school again, talking to the hottest guy in school. "You said you don't have experience, but you seem pretty confident."
"I am. I am an excellent student."
"What if I'm a bad teacher," I whisper.
"Impossible." The confidence in his voice makes me sit up straighter. "I want to learn you. What makes you feel good. What makes you moan." He presses into the spot below my toe again, and he looks really satisfied with himself when I moan. Again. "I want to learn it all. So there's no way you could be a bad teacher. Your reactions alone will tell me if you like something, or not. But if you tell me what you want, I'll give it to you."
"That's an incredibly enticing offer," I say, slowly sliding the cardigan off my shoulders. I'm overheated thanks to this conversation, but I wanted to tease him a little bit too. It works. His hands tighten on my foot, before he puts it down on his bare knee, and moves to the other.
"I hope so. I want you in my bed."
"I was in your bed already," I say, enjoying playing with him. He doesn’t play any games. He’s teasing, but not in a way that makes me doubt his intentions.
"Not long enough." No. It wasn't long enough. It was the single best sleep of my life, and I want a repeat. And maybe, this time I won't be so stinkin' awkward.
"I didn't mean to lay on you. I haven't really slept in the same bed with many people. I didn't know I was a snuggler. Was it ok?"
"Ok," he repeats quietly. "It was ok. You feel so much better than my blanket. Next time I'm stressed, I'll just ask you to lay on top of me. It should help."
I drop back onto the couch and cover my face with a cushion, laughing hysterically. Jonas gives me a minute, but eventually a little nip at my knee sends me shooting back up.
