Chapter 12
TYLER
I wake up with a headache and the heavy, sluggish feeling that follows a migraine. My eyes hurt in that dull, pressurized way, but the sharp pain is gone. Mostly, I just feel exhausted.
My mouth is dry, so I get up, moving slowly to avoid setting my head off again. And also because my room is pitch dark and I could easily trip. As I step out of the bedroom, I have to close my eyes against the assault of light.
Then I hear a surprised shriek, followed by a heartfelt, “Shit!”
“Jamie? You home?”
Of course it’s him, I just can’t believe how long I slept. If he’s home, that means I was out the whole afternoon. So much for my day off. Not that I’m usually super productive, but not feeling like death warmed over would be nice.
“Yeah, I…” There’s some clanging and footsteps. “I thought you were out.”
“Out like a light, yes.” I squint my way into fully opening my eyes. Jamie’s in the kitchen, standing there awkwardly between the counter and the island, concerned etched into his features. “How was work?”
“Good, no dramas.” He takes a few steps forward, the worry lines in his face deepening. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
His hand twitches at his side, as if he’s thinking of reaching out and touching my forehead. He’s such a worry-wart, and I feel a ghost of a smile tug on my lips. It disappears when I remember my conversation with Seth.
“Just a migraine. Well, it was, I slept it off. It’s a niggly headache, now.”
Jamie grimaces in sympathy. “Hate those. You should drink some water.”
“Was about to.”
He nods, gesturing towards the couch. “I’ll get it for you. Just go sit down.”
I open my mouth to tell him there’s no need.
It’s just a stupid headache; I’m not an invalid.
But Jamie is finally talking to me without sounding like a robot, and he’s offering to stick around so he can fuss over me instead of hiding in his room.
I know he’s doing it because he’s an inherently nurturing person, even if it’s to his detriment, but I’ll be damned if I don’t make the most of the opportunity.
The idea of being fussed over isn’t exactly terrible.
Unfamiliar, yes, because I’m not the type of person who invokes nurturing vibes in people, but not terrible.
“Alright. Thanks, Jamie.”
I waddle over to the couch before collapsing on it like a sack of overcooked potatoes. I don’t know why someone would put cooked potatoes in a sack, but that’s how I feel, regardless. I prop my elbows on my thighs and start rubbing my temples. It’s more out of habit, not that it helps much.
My eyes are closed, but I hear Jamie approach. There’s a moment of silence when he stops, and then he’s taking a seat on the couch as well.
“Here you go. I also got some coconut water. Not sure if you like it, but the electrolytes might help with the headache. And it’s super hydrating too.”
There’s a soft thud as he places the items on the coffee table. I look up, letting out a soft chuckle.
“Prepared for every situation, I see.” I reach for the water first. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” Jamie says almost reflexively. It’s most definitely not nothing, but I keep that to myself as I sip on the water.
When I look over at Jamie, my mood sours again.
He’s basically fused with the other end of the couch, sitting as far as possible.
His shoulders are drawn in, hands clasped in his lap while his fingers twist together like he’s trying to wring the urge to move out of himself.
As though every instinct inside him is telling him to get closer, to reach for me, and he’s gripping onto restraint with all his might.
Fuck.
Seth was right.
How did I not see it before?
I look away before he can catch me staring and take another drink of water, then open the coconut water and swallow a few mouthfuls of that too. I rub my forehead, pressing my thumb into the spot where the ache is strongest.
“How’s your head?” He’s speaking quietly, as if worried that a normal volume would aggravate the headache further.
He’s so considerate it hurts.
“Manageable,” I grunt.
“Is there anything else that you think might help? What do you normally do?”
I can’t possibly tell him that rubbing one out tends to provide some relief. It’s weird, since getting your blood pressure up seems to be pretty counter-productive, but it works for me. It’s as though there’s this weird…buildup of energy inside me, and shooting a load releases it.
Yeah, definitely not telling him that.
“Sleep it off, which I did. Now I just need to take it easy for the rest of the day. Seriously, it’s mostly just annoying now.”
The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him. He’s frowning, and it’s making me strangely flattered. It also makes me feel guilty, because I definitely don’t deserve this level of care from him.
Jamie shifts, clears his throat, straightening like he’s bracing himself.
“How about…”
My brows flick up. “Yes?”
“I mentioned to you that we learned a new massage technique for the neck and shoulders, right? Maybe…that would help?” Quickly, he adds, “Only if you want to.”
He doesn’t look at me when he says it. His eyes are on his hands again, fingers tightening together, already preparing himself for rejection. Or maybe hoping for it. Knowing that offering in the first place goes against everything he’s been trying to do this whole time.
No matter what answer I give him, it won’t be right.
I might as well go with the answer I want to give.
“Yeah, that might help. Let’s do it.”
He looks up with wide eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Only if you’re comfortable.”
“I am,” he says quickly, then reins himself in. He looks around, at the couch, at the floor, then me. “I think it will be the easiest if you stay on the couch and I stand behind you. It will give me more leverage. Unless you’d rather lie down? I can set up the massage table.”
“Here is good,” I assure him. “Being face down is probably not a good idea anyway.”
“True. Okay, I’ll…” He points vaguely, then gets up and walks behind me, the back of the couch between us. I’m tall enough that he’ll have easy access to my shoulders.
I straighten up and face forward. And because the migraine clearly targeted the part of my brain that’s in charge of making sound judgments, I ask, “Do you want my shirt off?”
There’s a long, heavy pause, before he says, voice wobbly, “That’s okay, I’m not using oil anyway.”
I nod. Fair enough. But…why do I feel disappointed?
“Can I start?” Jamie checks.
“Go for it.”
I hold my breath as I wait for the weight of his hands on my shoulders. When they settle, it’s tentative.
“Can you relax a bit more? You’re very tense.”
“Sorry.” I force my muscles to unlock, focusing on my breathing.
“That’s better,” he says, and then there’s pressure. Not much at first, just him testing the waters.
“Go as hard as you like,” I say, even though I get the feeling that his hesitation doesn’t have much to do with his concern for my pain tolerance (which is high).
“Okay.”
The pressure increases bit by bit, and in no time he’s pressing his thumbs hard into the giant knots in my traps.
My breath leaves me in a whoosh, more of the tension bleeding out of me.
Yeah, Jamie might not be tall or muscular, but he’s still pretty strong.
This is what I was hoping for when I had a massage at his clinic.
“You’re good at this,” I hum happily.
He lets out a small, embarrassed laugh. “We’ve only just started.”
“Well…” I close my eyes as my head tips forward. “You’re off to a good start.”
The compliment does something to him, I can tell. I can tell from the way he really puts his body into it, no longer hesitant to touch me. If anything, it seems that the praise spurs him on, making him want to show off his skills.
It’s fucking great.
When he switches from his thumbs to his elbows and puts his whole bodyweight into it, I damn near die and go to massage heaven. The most embarrassing, loudest moan escapes from me.
Jamie stills. “…Good?”
“So fucking good,” I agree. “You have magic hands.” If I’d known, I’d have taken him up on his offer the first time he mentioned it.
I hear his shuddery exhale before he’s back to destroying my muscles in the best way possible. I’d feel embarrassed about the stupid noises I make, but they only seem to urge Jamie on, so I don’t dwell on it much. It’s just weird, because I’m not usually a loud person, not even during sex.
Thinking of sex while Jamie’s hands are working me over feels…strange, but then his fingers slide up my neck and press into the base of my skull, and suddenly I’m unable to hold on to a single thought. Who the fuck knew that there’s a spot on your neck that will make you see stars?
I swallow an honest-to-God whine when his touch disappears. I’m pretty sure some of it slips out anyway, because Jamie chuckles.
“I’d like to work on your scalp and the deep neck muscles more, but this position makes it hard to get in there. Would you mind going onto your back instead?”
“Jamie, I’ll do whatever the hell you want. Just carry on as you were,” I tell him, already shifting onto my back, with my legs hanging off the end of the couch. When I blink my eyes open for a brief moment, I catch a glimpse of his shy smile and pink cheeks.
It’s not until he sits behind me that I become aware of the position I’m in.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but having my head in Jamie’s lap while he does his magic wasn’t it.
Do I particularly care? Nope. Not a single bit.
Not even though he’ll be able to see all my stupid expressions like this.
Jamie cups the back of my head while his fingers press alongside my spine. I let my mind drift off, just focusing on the sensations. I’ve never had a head massage before, but when Jamie starts making small circles across my scalp, I decide it’s my new favorite thing.
I don’t know how long it goes on. All I know is that I’ve turned into putty in his hands, my muscles feeling like butter. And I can actually feel the headache dissipating too. I barely notice it now.