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“You didn’t tell Dylan.”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
My brow furrows, and I glance up at her. “For what?”
“Allowing us to be friends first. Letting her get to know me on my own terms.”
“You said you didn’t know about it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Being your own person matters a lot to you.”
She traces the tips of her fingers across the top of my shoulders in a way that feels different now, more affectionate and less therapeutic. “The past seemed to matter a lot to you.”
“I talked to Jack, and he helped me see why it didn’t need to.” I anticipate her next question, so I answer it. “If it had mattered to our parents, they wouldn’t have gone ahead with their plans. As it turns out, everything happened the way it was supposed to.”
“Like, everything happens for a reason?” A smile is in her voice.
I turn this idea over in my mind. I think about how things would’ve been different if her father had never left. Would we be different if we’d grown up together? Would our relationship be different?
Would I be lying here on this table thinking about pulling her into my arms and kissing her?
All at once, I push into a sitting position, ready to shut this down.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes blink wider. “We’re not done.”
“Thanks for the massage, but I can’t lie here all day when there’s work to do.” I start to stand, but I realize I’m only in my underwear.
Her eyes fix on mine, and her cheeks flush. Her chin dips, and she smiles. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but she doesn’t step back. Instead she steps between my legs, pumping a few drops of oil into her palms and rubbing them together.
“Nowyou’redoing it again.” Her voice is calm, and she puts her hands on my shoulders, circling her thumbs in the front of my chest.
My brow lowers, and I swallow roughly. What she’s doing feels really fucking good, and I don’t want her to stop. I like her here, between my legs, sliding her hands over my bare chest and down my arms, sliding her palms flat against mine and threading our fingers.
“What am I doing?” It’s almost a groan.
“Running away.”
“I’m not?—”
“How do you feel?” She lifts her chin, and she must’ve moved closer.
Her face is so close to mine I could kiss her easily. I slide my gaze along the line of her hair, down the slope of her cheek, to her full lips.
“The truth?”
I haven’t felt this good in a long-assed time. I’ve struggled to keep this above board, but I’ve tasted her sweet lips. I can’t be held responsible for what I want to do sitting here in only my underwear with her breasts rising and falling beneath that thin cotton shirt.
“I always want the truth from you.”
Lifting my hands, I put them on her upper arms, gripping her firmly. “I feel like you’re playing with fire.”
Her eyes flare, and her pink tongue slips out to lick herbottom lip again. My eyes flicker down to the movement, to the tiniest nip of teeth against plump flesh.
“You could teach me.” It’s a husky whisper that sends another surge of longing straight to my cock.
