Chapter Eleven #2
"You're good-looking enough to be the lead singer of a rock band," I say, checking out his handsome face. "Though, I guess you're more suited to being the lead in a film."
"You think I’m good-looking?"
"You're all right," I say. "I mean, you have got the most mesmerizing blue eyes.
" I stare at him for a few seconds. "Like when people say they could swim in someone's eyes, I never really got it, but as I stare into your eyes, whoa.
I feel like I'm in the Maldives or something, just staring into the blue water. "
"Really?" he says. "Thank you. I never expected such a compliment from you."
"Don't get used to it or anything. I'm just saying that you have nice eyes."
"Thank you," he says. "And you do as well."
"Thanks." I blink, and then I blush, biting down on my pizza again. "I wonder if the chef is from Italy?" I ask, changing the subject because I'm feeling uncomfortable.
The mood between us has shifted. Staring into his eyes has made my heart race, my stomach churn with butterflies, and my skin feels hot.
I don't want my skin to feel hot. My finger is still burning from when I touched his lips, and I wanted to kiss him.
I want to feel his body pressed against mine.
I want to smell him. I want to run my fingers through his hair. I wanted to…
I’m on fire, and I understand what he meant earlier. Suddenly, I understand what it is to have chemistry, to have passion with someone, to just want to feel their naked skin against yours without thinking about anything else.
I don't care about his intentions for our future.
I don't care about whether he sees me as a woman he could marry or have a long-term relationship with. I just want to extinguish this fire. I just want to touch and taste and be consumed by him, and it’s something I've never felt before.
I can feel my face going red as I stare down at his strong hands, hands I can feel pressed against my skin, massaging me, touching me, teasing me, taunting me, making me feel things that I haven't felt in a really long time.
"What are you thinking about, Skye?" he whispers in a low voice, and I gaze up at him.
“You really want to know what I’m thinking about? What if it’s something you don’t want to know about?”
"Well, you've been staring at me, and your face is getting redder and redder, and I was just wondering what you were thinking about."
"It must be the wine," I answer quickly. "Wine always makes my face go red, you know?"
"Oh. It's not something that's on your mind?"
"What could possibly be on my mind that would make my face go red?"
"I don't know. I mean, maybe you're thinking about—"
"I'm certainly not thinking about your hands or your lips on me. I'm certainly not thinking about how…" I pause. I realize that I've said way too much.
He smirks and says, "Where would you like my hands to be on you?"
"I don't want your hands on me anywhere," I say.
"If you were to offer to give me a massage, I may say yes, but only because I've been so stressed out, and you look like you have strong hands, and oh my gosh, I need a massage so badly.
I'm definitely carrying tension in my shoulders and my neck and—"
"You want me to give you a massage?" he asks.
"What? You'd give me a massage? Really?"
"If you really desperately need one from me."
"I do," I say, not sure where the words are coming from. I do not desperately need a massage from this man. Definitely not. Definitely, definitely not. "Do you think you give good massages?" I ask.
"I've been told I give the best massages," he deadpans. "However, you would not be allowed to have clothes on."
"What?" Did I hear him correctly? “No clothes? Like naked, naked?” My heart races at the thought of his strong, warm hands on my bare skin. Naughty thoughts crash through my mind, and I want to slap myself. I should not be thinking about being naked around my boss right now with such enjoyment.
"The best massage is when you're naked. You'd be face down though, and we'd wrap a towel over your ass, so I'd only really be seeing your back…" He smiles. "And then I would put some essential oils on you and… well, I don't want to tell you everything I do. I don't want to ruin the surprise."
"The surprise?" I ask him.
"Yeah. I mean, if you want a Kingston special, that is."
"A Kingston special." I take a sip of water. I know I'm playing with fire, but I can't help myself. "What's a Kingston special?"
"Let's just say it's the best massage you'll ever receive in your life."
"Really? You think you would give me the best massage I've ever received in my life?"
"I do think so, but it doesn't look like you really want one."
"Oh, I do," I say. "I really want one. But you don't think it would be kind of unprofessional for my boss to give me a massage?"
"I don't think it's unprofessional. Do you?"
Every brain cell in my body is screaming at me, saying that getting a massage from this man would be the worst mistake of my life. "Hmm, I don't think it would be a mistake, but I can't really have you come back to my place. Elisabetta would be like, 'What's going on?' and I don't really want to—"
"You could come to my place," he says with a small smile. "I have a king-size bed. I can give you a massage there, and then you can take a taxi home."
"Are you sure?" I can’t believe I’m saying these things.
"Well, I feel partly responsible for all the stress that you're feeling right now." He gives me a warm smile. "I guess I should help get rid of it."
"It is partly your fault for being such a jackass to me and getting me so upset that I ended up losing my job, and now…" I stare at him. "If you think that you can give me a great massage, I'm not going to say no."
"Perfect," he says. "We'll take the wine with us to go."