11. Harper
Harper
We really need to get another hand in here. I don’t mind doing massages, but running the spa takes more time than I had anticipated. If we want to expand, we need to hire someone soon. Knocking softly, I enter the room.
“Welcome, my name is Harper, and I’ll be your…” My mouth quits working for a second when I see who is standing in the room, certain that I’m seeing things. “Jace…what? What are you doing here?” I stumble over my words, shaken by his unexpected presence.
“I won a free massage, remember?” His lips twitch, fighting the grin I can already see dancing in his eyes. “Wren said this would be a good time to come in.” His smile is bright as his eyes watch me, gauging how I’ll react. Unfortunately, I react anxiously.
“Oh, yeah, of course. Well…uh, do you want to remove your robe and lie on the table? I can leave and come back if that would make you more comfortable.” Flustered, I oscillate between looking at the door and then at him.
Unable to decide if I should stay or go or just keep talking. I opt for the latter, damn me.
“Not that you should be uncomfortable undressing in front of me, or anyone, really.” Why am I still talking? I’m going to ramble my way into either embarrassing him or offending him. He quirks one brow at me but stays quiet. So, of course, I fill the void, attempting to explain myself.
“What I mean is that of course you have nothing to be uncomfortable over…well, that”—I wave my hand at him—“cause your body is solid. Well, what I could feel through your shirt. So, yeah…” I let my next words trail off.
Well, that just happened. I definitely just word vomited all over him and probably came off sounding like a sex-crazed teenager, or a lunatic. Take your pick, folks.
“Harper, you better be careful, you might turn my head.”
Oh, now he finally decides to speak up. He couldn’t have done that a couple minutes ago before I made an ass of myself?
My rambling thoughts turn to mush as Jace unties the robe he has on with a confident, unhurried motion.
The plush fabric parts and slides off his muscular shoulders before he discards it completely onto the chair next to him.
His chest looks broader than I remember; his pecs are defined, the muscles beneath the smooth skin shift, making my heart rate kick up.
Damn, he’s all man. As if all the muscles and sexiness weren’t enough, his muscular chest is blessed with more ink and has my imagination doing all sorts of inappropriate things.
Following the long planes of his body, my eyes rake down to the taut sculpted ab muscles, each etched distinctly, creating a path to his tapered waist and ending in a defined V that disappears into the black boxer briefs he’s wearing.
The large bulge beneath demanding my attention, because of fucking course, he’s built like a fucking Greek God.
My mouth simultaneously goes bone dry and waters as I look my fill. How is that even physically possible?
He stands still, letting my eyes roam over him.
My brain finally catches up with my eyes, and I know I’ve been staring much longer than is appropriate, but I can’t look away.
All the feelings I’ve fought, the arousal he stirs in me, pulses through my veins, sending electricity straight to my core.
It’s been so long since anyone but me has touched my body, and I miss it.
The feeling of a man's body against mine.
Stopping that train of thought, I take a step back and stand next to the table.
“Uh.” Clearing my throat, I try again, “You can lie down there, putting your face in the hole.” No way in hell can I start with him looking at me. I need time to compose myself before I mount him here and now. He moves with an easy grace, getting situated on the table.
“Is the temperature okay?” I go into my masseuse script, needing something to ground me before my hands are on his bare skin.
His tanned, smooth, gorgeous skin. Biting my lip, I fight the urge not to run my finger down the center of his back, between the muscles on full display for me.
No, not for me, I mentally chide myself, while my mind conjures all sorts of fantasies of what that body could do.
“Yeah, it’s perfect, thanks. I’m glad Wren could fit me in. My back and shoulders are killing me.” He obviously is making an effort to put me at ease, and I grasp the olive branch with both hands.
“Okay, I’ll spend some extra time up there, see if there are any knots I can work out for you.
” Pouring warmed oil on my hands, I step beside the table and massage his shoulders and upper back, before pressing my palms firmly into the thick bands of muscles beneath the skin.
My hands massage and knead along the broad planes of his back, which is also decorated with ink.
I. Am. Screwed. A moan falls from his lips, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stifle my own.
That rumbling sound shoots straight to my aching core, instantly dampening my panties.
I tuck that delicious sound away in my mind, knowing I’ll be using it tonight to fuel another much-needed release.
Letting muscle memory take over, I move with an easy practiced rhythm, kneading deep into the traps before gliding down the spine.
Working lower and lower, following the contours of his back.
Each move intentional, and I notice every knot and strain of his body.
Even once the knots are gone, and I probably could move on to his legs or another area, I allow my hands to continue memorizing the curves of his back.
Biting my lip, I find myself wondering how he would react if I dragged my nails over his skin.
Focus, Harper. Needing to steer my thoughts to a more neutral topic, I ask, “Do you do a lot of manual labor, or is all of this from the gym?” I keep my words soft and quiet so as not to ruin the ambiance.
“Probably a bit of both. I do spend time at the gym. It’s a great stress relief, especially when I’m in the city. But most of this is from creating the tables and central counter for the cafe we are building.”
“You’re building them yourself?” Caught off guard, I pause in my work.
“Yeah, woodwork is my passion. Being a contractor was just a means to an end. You know, getting me connected and financially stable enough to open my own shop. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that in running my contracting company, but lately…”
He trails off, and I want to prod for more information, but I hold it in, letting him work through his thoughts as I get back to working his muscles.
“I don’t know. Something about this place has awoken that passion again, and I started designing ideas for the cafe. Last week, I sent design specs to the owner, and he loved them, so we added my services to the contract.”
“Jace, that’s amazing! Congrats, I can’t wait to see what you make. Oh, and I’m done with your back, you can roll over if you’re ready.”
As he repositions himself, our eyes connect. It’s like there is some kind of cosmic pull between us, and I can’t look away, can’t bring myself to sever that connection.
“You could come by the shop sometime and see the works in progress, if you want.” His words fade to almost a whisper.
His eyes bore into mine, imploring me to say yes.
I want to but can’t. I already feel an intense pull to him.
Watching him in his element might just bring down the fragile boundaries I have created with him. That I need with him.
Like a coward, I turn away from him, breaking the connection. Pouring more of the heated oil into my hands, I keep my eyes averted from his. “I probably shouldn’t, Jace.”
He stays silent when I turn and resume the massage, disappointment etched in his features. I want to rub away the crease between his brows that my rejection caused. Instead, I continue working over his body, memorizing it as my hands get to map every ridge, dip, and contour.
The soft chime of the timer by the door signals his hour is up.
His body tenses when he hears it too, and I hope he’ll say something.
Break the tension that has settled over the room in wake of my rejection to his offer.
Instead, he sits up, pulling the sheet over his lap.
He watches me. The look in his eyes knowing.
I can feel my defenses crumbling, so I do the only thing I can. Run.
“I’ll let you get dressed,” I call as I’m about to walk through the door. Jace’s voice halts my steps.
“Harper.” He doesn’t speak again until I turn, then the door closes me back inside with him.
He opens his mouth, then closes it, his eyes shuttering.
For the first time, he isn’t looking at me with open emotions.
It’s like he put up a wall, and a small part of my heart breaks at the sight.
“Thanks for the massage. I’ll see you around town. ”
I walk out the door and straight to my office as stupid tears prick behind my eyes. I’m being pathetic, pining for a guy that won’t be here by next year. This moon-eyed idiocy is what wrecked my life before, and I can’t let it happen again, not with Lizzie in the mix.