I try not to look at Noah while Javier works his hands over my legs. The massage oil is not helping matters either.
I turn my head and keep my attention on the opposite wall. But then, Javier forces me to change positions, and I have no choice but to look at Noah—or more importantly, look at Gabriella touching Noah.
His eyes are closed as he lies on his back. She moves her hands down his arms, digging the heels of her palms into his muscles. No doubt he’s enjoying this after his workout earlier.
I am not enjoying this.
I’m a live wire.
Javier tells me I have tension in my shoulders and I’m like, NO SHIT SHERLOCK.
“Try to relax.”
Impossible.
I catch a subtle lift of Noah’s smile, though he doesn’t open his eyes. Apparently, he enjoys how uncomfortable I am right now.
I try to relax, running through whimsical scenarios in my mind: a fawn in the woods, butterflies dancing in a meadow, a kitten playing with yarn, NOAH’S HANDS BETWEEN MY LEGS.
“Um, can I go to the bathroom really quick?” I ask Javier, embarrassed by how high-pitched and squeaky my voice sounds.
“Of course.”
He holds up a robe for me to don while he turns his back and I rush out of the room like my feet are on fire. In my bedroom, I feel better. I like that there’s a door between them and me.
I look in the mirror in the bathroom and blink at my appearance. My hair has dried into beachy waves. My face has new color from my time out in the sun. My skin is flushed and supple, covered in massage oil.
I turn on the tap, cup my hands under the faucet, and then dab some cold water onto my face. It helps, so I do it again.
When I turn off the water and pat my face dry, I realize I’ll have to return to the living room now. I can’t just abandon my massage halfway through.
Even so, I take my time, pacing in my room, trying to calm myself down.
Noah and I just need to have sex. That would help calm me down.
It occurs to me that I could put my own hand between my legs, but I can’t do it while three people hover one room away. It feels wrong.
I pinch my eyes closed, heave a heavy sigh at the door of my bedroom, and force myself to walk back out into the living room.
Javier and Gabriella are gone, but their massage tables are still in the center of the space. Noah stands beside one, waiting for me.
I frown and glance toward the front door, wondering if they just stepped outside to give me some privacy while I rearrange myself under the sheet again.
“I dismissed them,” Noah says, nodding for me to come closer.
“Why? Didn’t we have another thirty minutes?”
“I thought I’d finish your massage myself,” he says, reaching out to grab the two ends of the bow keeping my robe closed once I reach him. He tugs on them gently and the robe starts to slip off me. I reach to pinch it closed over my chest, leaning toward him. I like knowing I wasn’t the only one suffering before.
He was going just as crazy as me.
“Pity. I was actually enjoying Javier.” I’m testing him.
His gaze dares me to keep lying as he tugs my hands free and removes the robe for me. It pools at my feet and then he grips my waist to lift me up and onto the massage table behind me.
“Lie back,” he says, coming to stand where Javier was only a few minutes ago.
He doesn’t bother covering me with the sheet. Instead, he pushes it to the ground and arranges my hands flat by my sides.
Everything in me wants to cover myself. I’m too exposed up here, but he’s already reaching for the massage oil and dribbling a little of it onto my stomach, working it up higher on my chest. I lie perfectly still, wondering how far he’s going to take this. He starts to slowly rub the oil into my skin over my stomach and chest. Then higher. I hold my breath as he sweeps the silky oil over the outside of my breasts, then down, in the valley between them.
I’m slick under his hands as I take my lip between my teeth and fight the urge to close my eyes.
I’m slightly embarrassed about what we’re doing. I want to squirm and shy away from his touch, but then I remind myself that we aren’t doing anything wrong. We both want this. Badly.
His exploring takes his hands back down my stomach and over my thighs. He adds more oil to my legs, working it into my calves and feet. Then he slides his palms back up, letting his fingers dip dangerously close to the center of my thighs. I want him to touch me there, but he doesn’t, continuing to massage everywhere but there.