Chapter 6
SIX
She used her elbow to combat a tough knot in his left shoulder, and he almost wept. To his dismay, he did let out a sort of grunt.
Maybe more of a whimper, if he were being honest about it.
She paused in her torture. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he managed to grit out.
It was a daydream that had twisted into a nightmare. He was half-naked, and Lucy was touching him, but he couldn’t touch her back, and she apparently harbored a heretofore unknown tendency toward sadism.
Worst of all? Despite the agony, he still had an erection. His cock had perked up at the first touch of Lucy’s fingertips on his bare skin. Not even her knuckles, or—God help him—her sharp, sharp elbows, could dissuade it from its considerable enthusiasm.
His cock was basically Hairy Garcia, only less likely to be petted by Lucy.
At that thought, it strained at the leash of his pants again.
“With most clients, I’d work up to this level of pressure, but we don’t have months of sessions ahead of us. I need to give you as much relief as possible, as quickly as possible. Plus, you said you wanted it hard.”
Oh, he did. He really did.
That kiss on the bed had almost broken him.
Before she’d moved to his side, he’d been one millisecond away from dragging her beneath him and sliding a hand under that convenient skirt of hers.
And fuck, when she’d imposed distance between them, he’d wanted to snatch her back against him and erase those hateful inches.
But he wouldn’t make more of a friendly kiss than was warranted.
She might not have ever demonstrated her affection in quite that way before, but it wasn’t out of character for her.
Not surprisingly for a massage therapist, she was a toucher.
Always had been. She nudged, she hugged, she high-fived, she poked, and apparently she kissed too.
It wasn’t her fault that his body and emotions misinterpreted innocent gestures.
He could have sworn something dark and pained had dawned in her soft eyes when he’d walked away, though. Something like what he felt every time he thought about her leaving.
It doesn’t matter. No matter how she feels, you’ve shown and told her too much already.
Maybe a little conversation would calm his confused body. Worth a shot, he guessed. “How did your session go this afternoon?”
Her hands paused, and he tried not to cheer. Although he had to admit it: When he rolled his shoulders now, they felt…different. Loose. Weightless. Like she’d lightened the burden there, just like she’d lightened all the other burdens in his life.
Except his stupid intransigent erection, of course.
“—normal, except at the end.”
He sat up straight. “Did your client say something inappropriate? Or touch you?”
Because he might not have fought anyone since high school graduation, but he kept in shape and had taken boxing lessons. He’d gladly wade into the fray for Lucy again, no more questions asked.
She gave him a little smack on his shoulder, and God, his dick was really confused right now.
“Of course not,” she said, her exasperation clear. “I told you these clients were trustworthy. No, he just wanted to buy a gift certificate as a present.”
“What’s abnormal about that?”
“Well…” Her elbow pressed into that knot again, and he almost howled.
“He works at Colonial Marysburg, right? One of those people in colonial costume. But I swear to goddess, Seb, the dude has money. Lots of money. He lives in a mansion, as I found out today. And the woman who calls to make his appointments once referred to herself as his butler. Not his assistant, his butler. And she backtracked quickly, but really. What kind of costumed interpreter can afford a mansion? Or an assistant, much less one with pretensions of butler-related grandeur?”
“So maybe he doesn’t have to work, but wants to.” Propping his own elbows on the table, he covered his face with his hands. “I still don’t see the abnormal bit.”
“I’m getting there. Anyway, so Adam wanted this gift certificate, but I reminded him I’m leaving soon.
He said that was okay, because he planned to tell the recipient she’d won a contest and would have to redeem the prize—my certificate—within the next week.
And I was supposed to go along with his story, no matter how incredibly, awe-inspiringly cranky she got. His words, by the way.”
Sebastián frowned. “That is weird. Why not just give the certificate directly to her?”
“Exactly what I asked. But he told me that was how it had to be, and I wasn’t willing to push him. I haven’t been seeing him for long, but he’s a good tipper, Seb. I mean, a really good tipper.”
“Did you agree to his request?”
“Of course. If he wants to give an anonymous gift, in however weird a way, I don’t see the harm.
He even covered her tip.” She started massaging his temples with those strong fingers, and he tried not to moan in pleasure.
“So I’m expecting a phone call from a cantankerous colonial woman who thinks she won a contest, but hasn’t, and who needs to schedule a massage within the next week, all due to the machinations of a butler-having colonial dude who tips a hundred percent, lives in a mansion, and smells like an expensive tropical vacation. ”
His brows drew together. She’d noticed how this guy smelled?
“So it was a bit weird, as I was saying.” She was working on his neck now, digging her thumbs into either side of his spine. “But entertaining.”
“Are you seeing him again before you leave?” If so, he planned to accompany her and wait in the car during the appointment. The guy sounded like a weirdo. A good-smelling weirdo with philanthropic tendencies, but a weirdo nevertheless.
“Nope. No time. ” She patted Sebastián on the shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.” To his surprise, it was even the truth. “Really good. Looser.”
She grinned. “All in a day’s work. Just make sure to drink lots of water tonight.”
He pulled on his tee without delay, oily sheen be damned. Fully dressed once more, he rose to get each of them a glass of ice water, but paused when she settled herself into the chair next to his.
Time to see whether Lucy had been fibbing earlier.
As she let the seat take her weight, she made an almost inaudible noise and stretched her back just a bit. If he hadn’t been watching her so closely—if he didn’t always watch her so closely—he’d never have noticed either telltale signal.
But he had, and he did. She was hurting.
For all her talk about a good night’s sleep, she’d been on her feet the entire day.
She’d also been lying on a rock-hard school bus mattress.
And he knew her last conversation with Allie had bothered her more than she chose to admit.
Her quasi-friend had not taken the rejection of the bus well, despite Lucy’s sound reasoning.
It needed too many repairs and modifications for Lucy’s budget, ease of transport notwithstanding.
Plus, there were all the dicks. So, so many dicks.
So she’d spurned the school bus, politely but with more firmness and conviction than he’d seen from her in a while, and she’d remained unswayed by Allie’s displeasure.
Something about the tiny-house selection process, ridiculous as it was, seemed to have helped her.
Maybe how it forced her to focus on her needs and articulate them?
To defend them, or else find herself the proud owner of either a nudist stoner’s elf cabin or a dick-adorned bus?
He didn’t know for sure, but something was working for her.
Still, she hated conflict, and she hated disappointing anyone. Especially a so-called friend, one she’d had since before they could walk.
In other words, he wasn’t the only tense, tired person in the house.
And she didn’t know it—because he’d never told her, for good reason—but she wasn’t the only person with massage training in the house either.
Hers was much more extensive, of course, but he’d taken a couple of classes.
Because, embarrassingly enough, he’d wanted to understand what she did on a daily basis and be able to picture her working at her job.
A smart man would drink his damn water, beat a hasty retreat to the Pullout Couch of the Damned, and pretend to fall asleep shortly after sunset.
But something about the last few days had changed him, too. Whetted his desire for her proximity and her touch. Coaxed him to reveal himself in ways that didn’t come easily. Made him question whether all the stringent rules governing his life still made sense.
Goddammit all, she was leaving so fucking soon. Couldn’t he allow himself one last taste of the forbidden? Didn’t she deserve a friend who would help relieve her pain?
“Why don’t I return the favor?” He met her startled gaze, attempting to appear impassive. “I’m no expert, but I should be able to work out a few kinks.”
Her brows rose. “Really?”
“Yeah. I, uh”—he swallowed—“took a course or two a few years back.”
A hedonist at heart, she didn’t hesitate. “That sounds amazing. Thank you so much! Where do you want me?”
On the floor. In the chair. On his desk. In the shower. On the bed, for hours at a time.
But he supposed she meant for the massage. “If you’d like me to focus on your shoulders and upper back, the chair. If you’d like me to work on your lower back or legs too, we’ll need”—oh, Jesus—“a bed.”
“Hmmm.” She tapped her lip with her forefinger. “Let’s not bother with oil. I just want a gentle massage, and I don’t want to have to take another shower tonight. And—”
Thank God for small favors. At least they weren’t adding lubrication to this disaster-in-the-making.
“—my feet are aching a bit, so I guess…the bed?” She wrinkled her nose. “Is that okay? Or do you want me to bring in my massage table?”
“The bed is fine.”
Why not? It wasn’t as if his balls could get any bluer. They’d already reached Horny Smurf status an hour ago.
“Okay.” She practically skipped to the bedroom. “Let me get undressed, and I’ll be ready in about a minute.”