33. Zara
ZARA
I stare at my phone. Maybe the reason Garrett is outside my apartment building is because he’s here for a stress-relieving kiss. If there’s ever a time I could use one, now would be it.
My body and mind have been tied into one gigantic messy knot, and I don’t know how to untangle it.
Under normal circumstances, one of Garrett’s kisses would be enough to pick away at bits of the unruly knot. But I’m not exactly kissable with how utterly delightful my eye looks.
On the other hand, after the day I’ve had, I really want to see my best friend.
Me: Yes. I’ll buzz you up. Apartment door unlocked.
I unlock the door and carry my half-eaten dinner to the kitchen.
I cover the food and return it to the fridge. I’ll eat it tomorrow. My appetite should be back to normal by then. It’s been off for a few days, but that’s not surprising with everything going on.
The apartment door clicks open, and Garrett is standing in front of me in the kitchen before I can tell him I’m in here. The corner of his mouth lifts in an ovary-exploding smirk. “Sexy librarian spy. I need to add one to my book.”
It takes me a second to figure out what he’s getting at. Oh, right. The sunglasses. “Sexy librarian spies are always a win for any book. I highly recommend them.”
He shortens the distance between us and cradles my hips in his hands.
His long, strong fingers curve along the swell of my ass, leaving my skin under the lounge pants humming from the near contact.
“Are you gonna remove your sunglasses so I can kiss you?” An adorable divot creases between his eyes.
“Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?”
“I was watching TV and my eyes are sensitive to the light.”
The divot deepens. “Since when?”
“This morning. I saw an ophthalmologist this afternoon, and I have uveitis. Inflammation of the eye. I’m taking drops for it.
It’ll be better in a few days.” I smile at him as if this is the only thing I’ve had to worry about today.
As if my body hasn’t declared World War III on me.
“I should probably have told you that before you rushed up here. You might not want to kiss me.”
He leans in and ghosts his lips along my jaw. “Can I kiss you here?” His voice is a rough rumble coasting the shell of my ear, sparking shivers that skip across my skin.
“Uh-huh,” I manage to get out on a shaky breath.
“What about here?” His lips trace my neck in a teasing caress, and an answering wetness pools between my legs.
“Oh. Yes. Definitely there.” The words carry out on a delirious moan.
He slowly drags the opening of my silk top to the side, revealing my shoulder, and skims his lips over the exposed skin. “How are your shoulders doing?”
“Better.” It’s not a lie. They aren’t as achy today compared to my hips and back.
“Anywhere else that hurts?” He glides his hands down my arms.
Everywhere .
“My neck is a little stiff. And my”—I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry—“my hips. ”
“You want me to massage you? Would that help?” His voice comes out in a low, seductive purr, and my entire body deliciously tingles.
“It might,” I whisper, unable to make my words any louder.
He threads his fingers with mine and leads me into the bedroom. Releasing my hand, he walks to the curtains and slides them shut. The faint glow peeking through the fabric is the only light in the nearly dark room. “Does that help with the light sensitivity?”
I cautiously slide my sunglasses down my nose, testing my inflamed eye’s reaction to the dim light. The pain I’ve been experiencing all day, whenever the eye is exposed to light, doesn’t assault me. “That’s good.”
“Alright. Do you want to change into something else? To make it easier for me to massage you.”
“I can put on my sleep shorts and tank top.”
“That should work.” He turns so his back faces me, and I take a brief second to appreciate the view before his words sink in.
“You want me to change here?” With you standing there? The words come out husky—not at all how I had planned. I can blame the view of his tight ass and broad shoulders for that. I swallow.
“I promise I won’t look. Or I can leave if you want?”
“No, that’s fine.” It’s not like we haven’t changed in the same room. He’s never sneaked a peek at me.
Even if I secretly willed him to.
I remove a pair of sleep shorts and matching tank top from the dresser drawer and deposit my sunglasses on my nightstand. I change into my sleepwear, my movements awkward and stiff from the long drive to and from Portland. “Okay. You can turn around.”
In the dim light of the room, I feel his gaze travel down my body like the caress of silk on my skin. It’s dark enough he can’t see my nipples through the top from where he’s standing. Can’t see I’m braless.
He pats my mattress. “On your stomach. Where’s your lotion?”
“In the bathroom.”
“Right.” He disappears out the door and returns with the jasmine-scented lotion.
I swallow again at my body’s reaction to him, at the nakedly raw gut feeling I have that he’s seeing into places I’ve kept hidden from the world. I climb onto the bed, crawl to his side, and lie on my stomach, my head on the pillow, arms folded under it.
I close my eyes. Deep secrets exposed or not, I’m not missing out on this massage when it might ease some of the pain.
The mattress dips under Garrett’s weight.
He straddles my hips and brushes my coils to the side.
His large warm hands spread across my shoulders, and with gentle but firm pressure, he starts to unknot the kinks in my neck, kneading them with his calloused thumbs.
Unwittingly forcing me to bite back a moan.
He continues to meticulously chase away the discomfort that has been plaguing me all day. Once he’s finished with my neck muscles, his hands travel the length of me, spending time on those parts of my body that have been especially bitchy lately.
My groans of delight and hisses of pain guide him, no doubt encouraging him to keep going. “I might need to start calling you Golden Hands.”
His fingers glide to my butt muscles, and my breath hitches. The muscles clench, and then relax, not wanting to give him a reason to skip them. The gap between my legs silently pleads for his fingers to drift off course, to call on my pussy.
Nope. Not happening. We agreed we’re not going there. Kissing only.
“How’s that?” he asks once the massage is finished and I’m a content limp noodle on my bed. A very content limp noodle.
“Much better. Thank you.” I make a move to roll onto my back, but the fabric of my tank top doesn’t get the message that I’m moving. It accidentally shifts to the side, and I inadvertently flash a naked tit.
The world goes momentarily still, all the air in the room sucked out. Neither of us moves. Or breathes. Or speaks.
Then mortification kicks me in the ass, and I jerk the fabric back to where it should be. It’s not enough, though, to hide my nipples, taut from having Garrett’s hands on my body. They press perkily through the cotton.
Garrett rears up as if a venomous snake is coiled next to me, keeping him in his place. “That’s good. I…I should get going. I have a few more hours left of writing to do tonight. ”
“Right.” I push to a sit, my legs dangling over the side of the bed, and I cover my chest with my arm, blocking his view of my eager nipples.
“Good luck with that.” I fashion my voice so it sounds relaxed, upbeat.
Perhaps a little too upbeat. But if Garrett notices, his expression gives nothing away.
“Thanks. And good luck…good luck with your eye problem.” The last part is rushed out so fast, I almost laugh at how adorably awkward he sounds. And maybe I would have if that hidden part of me wasn’t shaken to the core.
The apartment door clicks shut, and hollow silence packs the space Garrett recently filled.