He dug into the balls of my feet with his thumbs, dragging a long groan from me. His thighs clenched under my calves, but he continued.
“God, that feels good.” My eyes rolled back in my head. I had been missing out. Put this on the list of things I’d demand from a guy from now on. Could a girl come from a foot rub?
“You act like you’ve never had a foot rub before.” His voice was thick.
I kept my eyes closed or I’d be throwing orgasm faces nonstop. “I haven’t.”
He paused. “Never?”
I cracked an eyelid open. His aghast expression almost made me laugh. “I think my bar was in the basement for expectations.”
He grunted and continued with the massage, working his way down to my heels and back up to my toes. I tried to hold back my moans, but the man was a wizard with his fingers.
He continued to knead up to my ankles. Then he made it to my calves. I melted into the cushions, nothing but a pool of divine relaxation. “You are doing a good job of making sure no one lives up to you.”
He stopped massaging. His mouth was tight and a crease slashed across his brow.
Damn. I’d made things awkward again. Just what I got for getting my hopes up. I scooted upright. His hands were loose around my lower legs. I gingerly lowered my feet to the floor. The crease on his brow deepened.
“I should get to bed.” I rose but he stayed where he was.
“I want to kiss you again.”
It was my turn to freeze. Had I fallen asleep and entered the most wonderful dream? No, if I was dreaming, his mouth would be on mine and I would be under him already. “Why don’t you?”
Pain highlighted the lines on his face. His whole body was rigid. “I don’t want to cross the line. I might not come back.”
Brock and my other exes might have strung me along, but I had never begged. They had asked me for another chance. Tenor wasn’t requesting a first one. He didn’t want a relationship, and he didn’t want to mess around. He wasn’t tiptoeing, he was backtracking. As hard as it was to respect his wishes, I wouldn’t pressure him.
So all I said was “I might not have minded.”
I forced one foot in front of the other until I was closed in the guest bedroom. I exhaled and sagged against the bedroom door. Would he decide the line was worth crossing after all? Would he show me that what sizzled between us was worth the risk? Would he realize I wasn’t like Katrina?
I had never been drawn to a man like I was to him. I wanted him. I could picture it. I could envision us together. Something that I had thought was a girlish fantasy and that he had shown me could be real. But both parties had to be on board and he was pushing my ship away.
Soft movement came from the living room. Muffled footsteps grew closer and ceased outside of my door. My chest rose and fell. Was this it? Would he finally cave to the promise of how good it could be between us?
My lungs stalled the longer time stretched on.
Then movement again. Away from my door and down the hall. His bedroom door clicked shut.
I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed. A wave of grief washed over me. For what could’ve been, even just for tonight. But mostly for me, for that girl who just wanted someone to want and keep wanting her. Was that too much to ask?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tenor
On Sunday night, Mama had invited me over. Cruz and Lane were leaving on Monday. She missed them when they were gone, and every time before they left, she made a big meal as if to remind them they always had a home in Bourbon Canyon.
I scraped the leftover mashed potatoes out of the pot and into a plastic container. Cruz was humming while loading the dishwasher. Lane was helping Mama clear the table.
“Where’s Rubes this weekend?” Lane asked as he carried in a pile of plates to hand off to Cruz.
“She doesn’t like being called that.”
“No kidding?” He sounded surprised. “Dang. Thanks for telling me.”
Lane was a good kid.
