“I only ask you to try.”
“To try and bench an obscene amount of weight.”
“If you focused, you could do it, but you laugh the second your muscles strain.” Mason glares.
I laugh then and his quickly follows.
Mase drapes his arm around my shoulder and jerks me to him, kissing my head. “You’re a brat, that’s all.”
“Yeah, but my ‘big’ brother turned me into one.”
“I’ll own it.” He nods, unlocking the door and letting us inside.
“I’m taking a nap. Wake me before you put the pizzas in the oven.” Mason takes off down the hall, the rest of us plopping around the living room.
“I don’t know about you guys but I’m feeling him on this nap time shit.” Brady kicks out of the recliner and switches on the TV. “Any movie requests?”
I snag the blanket off the back of the barrel chair and curl up beside Cam. “Your call, big guy.”
Of course, he picks something he’s seen a hundred times, and knocks out in the first five minutes. Not ten minutes after that, Cam starts fidgeting.
“Go away if you’re going to keep twisting and turning.” I give her a teasing nudge.
“My body is in pain,” she whines, and then gasps. “Chase!” she practically shouts, looking to him. “You took that massage class on a dare last year.”
Chase tips his head back, grinning. “I did.”
“Don’t make me beg, Chaser, cause I will.”
He laughs, sitting up and onto his knees from his pot on the floor. “Come on then.”
“Yes!” she squeals, dropping onto the floor in front of him.
After a minute or two, Cam lets out a soft, sedated moan, followed by another, and Brady, of course, hears it in his sleep. He tosses a pillow at the back of Chase’s head.
“Dick.” He laughs.
Cam turns so she can see me and winks, and I roll my eyes playfully, letting my eyes close.
On the cusp of falling asleep, Cam’s hand falls on my arm and she gives me a little shake.
“Your turn, bestie,” she whispers with a smirk. “I’m going to bed.”
I glance to Chase, who sits back waiting for me with a small grin, and then peek at Brady, his face now buried in the crease of the cushions.
I take Cam’s place.
“Hang on,” Chase whispers, careful not to wake the others, I’m sure, and stretches to the right, snagging a blanket from the wicker basket by the fireplace.
He motions for me to lie down, so I follow Cameron’s lead, and pull my T-shirt up over my head, then lower onto the carpet.
I’m keenly aware of Chase’s every move, holding my breath as he climbs over me, positioning his hips right against the curve of my ass. I try, unsuccessfully, to suppress a chuckle.
“Something funny?” He moves my hair to one side, his open palms falling to my shoulders.
Well, since he asked…
“It’s just when I imagined us being in this position, it went quite a bit different.” I smile into the crook of my arm.
He freezes, but after a moment, his throat clears, and he begins applying pressure to my muscles.
Chase starts high and works his hands down, rubbing and kneading with his knuckles. I’m not even sure how much time passes as I lie there completely relaxed, but right when I feel myself start to drift off to sleep, the change in Chase’s touch has my eyelids flying open.
It’s slower, almost forced, as if he has to remind himself of what to do… or dare I say, what not to do.
Chase’s next move has me leaning toward the latter.
Slowly, and with a slightly shaky touch, the pads of his fingers meet my skin as he takes the strings of my bikini top in his hand.
He waits a beat, as if I might protest, and then he tugs.
His hissed breath fans along my bare skin and I squeeze my fists tightly to keep myself from squirming beneath his touch.
I’ve gotten a massage before, from Brady and a few others, all in good, relax-seeking fun, but I never wanted any of them to strip me down. So yeah, totally different.
Shit, I don’t even want to breathe in fear he pulls a Chase and backpedals.
There’s no denying he’s grown more brazen, untying my top is proof of that, as is the way he pushes them to the side in the next breath.
He runs his open palms along my back with no barrier to break the contact of his skin from mine.
I pretty much play dead, dying for his next move, while telling myself his only purpose is to make it easier: a smooth surface to work on.
His hand leaves me, and he stretches, a blanket draping over us in the next second. All the way over us. My eyes fly open so fast, it takes a moment before I can see.
My hands are folded under my head, and Chase’s fingers curl over to meet my collarbone, gently sliding back down until his fingertips meet the highest point of my ribs. His palms flatten there, his touch light, and he glides them in a not-at-all massage-like motion.