Chapter 11 #3
I gave him a sidelong glance. I started to make a smart-ass remark, but then I remembered the look that was on his face when we were in the mud.
“What were you thinking about when we were soaking?” I asked, staring at the salt lamp.
My question was met with silence. After a few seconds, I looked over at him. He was fixated on the lamp, so I took in his profile. His tongue wet his full lips before he started to speak.
“What I saw for my life.” He looked over at me and gave me a tight smile. “And what I see for my life.”
I nodded contemplatively. “Is what you saw for your life lining up with how you’re living your life?”
“Yeah. In some ways.”
With a tilt of my head, I requested more information. “In what ways?”
“Time. Money. Freedom. Connections.” He paused, searching my face for a moment. He looked like he wanted to say something else.
He didn’t continue, but the way he was looking at me caused my stomach to flutter.
I cleared my throat lightly. “I know we agreed to not talk about work, so I won’t take it personally if you don’t want to answer. But I noticed you didn’t put your work on your list.”
Hesitation flickered across his face.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him hesitate and that intrigued me more. But I didn’t want to pry. I reached over and squeezed his hand.
“Never mind,” I said quietly. “It’s okay.”
I started pulling my hand away and he stopped me. Bringing my hand to his lips, he kissed it before allowing me to retreat.
“I love what I do,” he began. “But I miss being creative. I miss designing my own shit. I miss getting hands-on with my work. I don’t get to do that as often as I used to.
And that’s been weighing on me. This summer, spending time with you, made me realize that.
I have too much going on at work right now.
But one day, I’m going to move some things around and make it happen.
I hadn’t really said anything to anyone until now. ”
I smiled. “So you’re going to get back in your creative bag?”
He nodded. “I am. Creating always made me happy. I’m good with numbers and business. But creating was my shit.”
“Then that’s what you should be doing. Even if it’s not full-time or every day yet. Life is too short for you not to be doing what makes you happy.”
“You’re right.” He ran his hand over his beard and let out a short, dry laugh. “It’s going to shake some shit up at work, but I have to. Even if it’s only one day a week, I need to get back to my roots.”
“As you should,” I agreed. “If it’s been on your mind to do it, you should do it. If it’s going to make you happy, you should absolutely do it. We have one life to live so we have to live it to the fullest.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “What makes you happy?” he inquired. “Are you doing what you love?”
“I am.” I felt myself light up as I thought about how blessed I was to do what I’m passionate about for work. “I’m living my dream. I have my dream job and I’ve just recently taken it to the next level. I’m…” I stopped myself from telling him more. “I’m happy with what I do.”
He reached over and stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I can tell.”
“I want you to be happy like this, too.”
“Thank you.” He fingered a coiled strand of my hair. “Tell me how you feel.”
My stomach fluttered with nervous energy. “About work?”
Silently tracing the shell of my ear, he didn’t say anything for a few moments. “You’re open and private at the same time.”
“What do you mean?” I murmured, shivering from the gentleness of his touch.
“I know you.” His fingertips trailed down my neck. “But there are parts of you that you keep to yourself.”
I took in a shuddering breath as his touch continued its path, following the collar of my robe. “Yeah,” I murmured in distracted agreement.
“There are things that you don’t say with your words, but you say it in other ways.”
I averted my eyes briefly. “Hm.”
The silence that surrounded us was loud.
“I’ve always been surprised you don’t want to talk about work.” He sat back and stared at me. “You light up when you do.”
Oh! The knots in my belly loosened.
“Well, it’s not just you. I’ve made it a point to not talk about my career with anyone I’ve dated,” I explained.
“Why?”
“A few years ago, I went on a first date with a man who asked me what I did. After I told him, he called me big money.” I shook my head. “Red flag!”
That guy also sexualized the fact that I modeled, insisted on looking me up on social media, and then told me that I thought I was hot shit because I had a lot of followers.
He called me big money, but he also started acting like he was in competition with me.
Just overall jealous behavior, but I wasn’t going to go into all that.
Snickering, he leaned forward. “What?”
I lifted my right hand. “I swear! I never brought up my job with a man again. Calling me big money and ‘joking’ about me paying for dinner was enough for me.”
He tipped my chin up. “Well, it’s a damn shame because the way you look when you talk about what you’re passionate about is sexy as hell.”
I bit my lip to tame my smile. “Well, I’m not the only one.” I pointed at him. “I’m surprised you don’t talk about work. Since you’re always working, I figured it would come up.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t talk about it,” he laughed. “It already takes up so much of my time.”
“Yeah, but you can’t spend as much time working as you do and not love it. It’s your business. It’s your baby.”
“True. But I like to separate business and pleasure. That’s why when I do something for myself”—his eyes swept down my robed body—“I like to leave work where it’s at.”
I shivered. “You might leave it there, but even without talking about it, I know how you get down at work.”
He smirked. “Is that right?”
“I might not know all the specifics, but I know you’re good at what you do because of how successful you are.
I know you’re an ambitious go-getter because it’s your business and you built it from the ground up.
Your attention to detail is”—I kissed the tips of my fingers—“chef’s kiss, so I know you’re thorough, thoughtful, and focused.
You make time to enjoy yourself so that means you delegate freely, and you trust your team—which also means you’re a good judge of character.
” Fighting a smile, I leaned closer to him.
“And I’ve seen the way you take charge, so I know you handle business.
” I quirked an eyebrow. “See, I know you.”
Amused, he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to him. “Let me do you next.”
I leaned forward, letting him guide my mouth to his. “You can do me now.”
“You’re funny and smart and”—he kissed me gently—“interesting and unexpected and”—another kiss, longer—“passionate and perceptive.” His voice lowered as he continued.
“I know fashion is your thing. I knew that when I met you. But you’re so effortlessly sexy.
Your style, your personality, your conversation, your look, every fucking thing. ”
My stomach fluttered. “Like I said, you’re a good judge of character.”
The serene quietness of the room was broken by his hearty chuckle.
“And that concludes your mud treatment,” Byron announced, entering the room.
“We hope you have enjoyed your time to replenish,” Tessa added, motioning for us to follow. “Now that you’ve relaxed your mind, come with us so you can relax your body.”
We got up and followed the pair into a different part of the building.
Soft ambient music coupled with dim lighting created a relaxing atmosphere in the massage room.
The white marble flooring shone with fresh wax and white musk scented the air.
Sheer white panels of drapery decorated the wall and ceiling, softly hanging above two white chairs.
The two tables were side by side, with a couple of feet between them.
The mirror-lined wall made it appear as though the room went on forever.
Looking around, I took in the environment. A small smile played on my lips as we were introduced to our masseuses. I wasn’t sure if it was just me, but the room was both sterile and sexy at the same time. After being instructed to undress and get under the sheet, we were left alone.
We took off our robes, and while I was hanging mine up, Russ came up behind me.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he slid his hands over my belly and pressed himself against my back.
He ogled me. “Enjoying the view.”
I reached back and grabbed his neck, bringing his head lower. “The view is nice.”
“It’s perfect.” His fingers brushed my nipples before he cupped my breasts.
Staring at our reflection in the mirror, there was no denying how good we looked together. I wasn’t just focused on the physical either. It was the intimacy, the energy, and the comfortability between us that looked good. But more than that, everything between us felt good.
He kissed my cheek and then my neck. “What’s on your mind?”
Turning around, I pushed up on my toes and gave him a soft peck against his lips. “How long until your hard dick is in me.”
With a grin, Russ squeezed me tight. “After our massage, I promise—”
The knock at the door startled us apart.
Snickering, we ran over to our tables and covered ourselves up. By the time the door opened, we’d just barely gotten situated.
“Ready to begin?” the masseuse asked.