“Now.” He stood and swooped me up before I could protest, carrying me toward the bedroom.
“I have one more thing planned,” I said, pushing his chest. “Reroute to the den.”
“Mmm, yeah,” he said, pivoting and heading the opposite direction down the hall. “We haven’t done it in there in a while.”
I rolled my eyes as he stopped short in the doorway of the den. “When did you do all this?”
“While you were working. Put me down and get the fireplace going.”
Once on the ground, I set to work lighting the candles on the mantel I’d put out before dinner. In the middle of the room, near the fireplace on a sheepskin rug, I’d made a bed of pillows.
Manning looked back at me while stocking the fireplace. “Johnnie Walker Blue Label?” he asked as I poured us drinks at a side table. “What’s the occasion?”
“You.” I set his tumbler aside. “I know you weren’t happy I wanted to stay in Pomona and study last week. And I’m sure you worked yourself to the bone. I’m giving you a long massage to make up for it.”
He lit a roll of newspaper and held it up the chimney to warm the flue. “You think you’re strong enough to take on these knots?”
“Oh, yes.” I grinned, picking up massage oil and flexing my bicep. “Nobody knows your body like I do, Great Bear. I’m going to hit all your sweet spots.”
He actually shuddered.
I perched on the edge of the couch and motioned for him to sit on the floor between my legs. “Strip.”
He elbowed off his flannel, tossing it aside as he got to the ground. I squirted oil on his shoulders and rubbed it over his upper back and biceps. Massaging him was like kneading concrete and after a few minutes, with the fire in full effect, my hairline started to perspire. I readjusted on the couch, my thigh muscles aching from holding my legs open.
“Doing all right?” he asked.
“Yep.” I worked the back of his neck, running my fingers up to his scalp then down his spine. The California sun was strong, even in winter, and despite his naturally bronzed skin, he had a faint tan line at the back of his neck. “Is it making any difference?”
“Yeah, Birdy.” He laughed. “But you’re sweating on me.”
I pinched his arm. “You love it.”
He looked over his shoulder and up at me. “Come here.”
I leaned over his front, sliding my hands down his pecs from behind, flipping my long hair over his shoulder to nuzzle his neck. He pulled me closer by my arms. “There’s the sweet spot,” he said as I massaged his abs of stone, my fingers inching lower and lower.
He released my arm to pick up his whisky from the side table, took a sip, and passed it back to me. The burn of liquor, of the fireplace on my skin, loosened my limbs.
“You’re shaking.” He trapped my knees with his biceps, pulling my legs to his sides and massaging my calves.
“Your shoulders are too wide.” I put the glass next to him on the ground. “My thighs hurt.”
He scooted forward, away from me. “I’ve never heard a better invitation. I’m more than happy to relieve your aching thighs.”
“Tonight’s about you. Get on the rug so I can work on yours.”
“When did you get so bossy?” he asked but went to lie on the floor where I’d piled the pillows. He stuffed one under his chest, resting his chin on his forearms. “Persistent? Impulsive? Yes. But my little bird used to have a shy side.”
“You’ve spent the last few years touching, licking, and kissing the shy right out of me,” I pointed out, sitting on his ass.
“I have, haven’t I?” he asked, a smile in his voice. “How come Blue’s not nudging her snout up my ass?”
“I put her out back.”
“You really planned this out.”
“Shh.” I ran my thumbs up the muscles around his spine. “Try to relax.”
Once I’d located a knot, I used one elbow, then both, to get deeper. I added more and more pressure until he groaned. “All right, you win,” he said. “That feels fucking great.”
When I hit a sore spot, he bucked his hips. As turned on as I was easing the aches in my strong man, as much as I wanted him to pull me into his arms and make love to me, I mostly wished he’d be able to relax until I’d exhausted myself.
Of course, I had no delusions that would actually happen. There’d be no end to the massage or start to sex. Manning’s groans deepened as I hit his lower back. I dipped my fingers under the waistband of his jeans, kneading the top of his ass.
“Don’t neglect the front,” he said.
I slickened my palms with more oil. He lifted his hips as I slid my hands down the front of his pants and stroked him once, long and slow. I sat back as he flipped over and took his pants off. There’d be no more subduing the bear, so I gave in and climbed on.