I hop out of my chair and go around to hug her tight. “So are you.”
“No thanks.” Her laugh is bitter, exhausted. “I’m off men.”
“I understand,” I sigh, dropping into my chair again. “But I do need the money, and hell, I kind of like the guy.”
“You’re screwed.”
She’s so blunt, I start to laugh, which makes her start to laugh. I’m sure it’s the stress, but it is comforting to be together dealing with the shit.
“I’ll make us some dinner. My problems really are minor compared to yours. I’m serious about getting that restraining order. Let’s go tomorrow and just see what the cops say. Even if it’s just a piece of paper, we can at least get it, right?”
Her smile is so hopeless. “Sure. We can do that tomorrow.”
* * *
“What’s your pain level today?” My hands slide down Spencer’s warm skin, and I dig my fingers into his firm muscles as the soft notes of a muted piano waft around us.
Today, we’re meeting after hours, which makes me nervous. On my way in, I passed Miles going home. He was friendly as always, but I didn’t like the look he gave me, like he suspected something more than massage would happen during my visit.
“I still have some discomfort when I move in particular ways, but no more fives.” Spencer’s voice is muffled from being in the cushion. “You’re very good at your job.”
Leaning down, I spread my palms over his lower back, carefully making my way to his heavenly ass. My palms follow the lines of his muscles, and an image of his hard body pressed against mine, holding me down as he fucked me hard, flashes across my brain.
Clearing my throat, I banish the memory. “You’re a quick healer. We can probably make next week our last appointment.”
“Then I won’t be your client anymore.”
“I guess we won’t see each other anymore.” I’m not sure why I said it… Okay, I know. I want to know his thoughts on the matter.
He lifts up onto his elbows, and I step back. “I’ve heard some people get regular massages just for the hell of it.”
Pressing my lips together, I nod. “They do. We could certainly continue along those lines. Usually it’s a monthly type thing, but it could be biweekly.”
“But then I’d still be your client.” Hazel eyes narrow at me. “I’m not particularly happy with this arrangement.”
“Lie down so I can fi
nish. Please.” My voice is quiet, and he hesitates a moment before doing as I ask.
I carefully step forward and resume working on his lower back, curling my fingers into the muscles along his hips, resting my thumbs in the large dimples at his waistband. Luscious.
“That feels good.” His voice is husky, sexy, and heat filters through my lower belly.
I should not be aroused by his sounds.
I should distract my mind.
Too late.
“I don’t know why you’d be tired of our arrangement. You said yourself you don’t do relationships.”
The oil is on my forearms, and I lean forward for my favorite part. Using my body weight for pressure, I slide my arms up the large muscles of his back, going all the way from his waist to the top of his shoulders.
It’s a problematic move considering our past, because it’s not just my arms, it’s my body moving against his. My heat travels into him, and we’re slippery and oily and close.
I can’t stop my mind from remembering being naked with him, sliding all over him, riding his hard cock. As much as I fight against these feelings, my panties are drenched, and my face is flushed.
He’s right. I getting tired of this arrangement, too.