“How does that feel?” he said.
“Good,” I admit.
He massaged not just the injured foot but the other too, spreading calm throughout my body. And I had to admit, my feet between his thighs sent effervescent sensations through me. My head fell back as Iimagined this gentle giant messaging other things as well. In my illicit imaginings, Rory massaged my thighs and worked upward. A groan escaped my lips.
“You okay?”
“You’re good at this.”
“Shiatsu massage. I have it done after the shows. Reduces the stress of touring.”
“I’m going to call you Mr. Magic Hands.”
“Oh, so you think that was good?”
He lowered my feet. My mind protested the loss of his hands.
“Sit up.”
In my relaxed state, I almost couldn’t, but he helped me and then settled behind me. Without a sound he started working my shoulders, loosening them with his skillful touch. His fingers wandered up my neck.
“You are tight. It’s a wonder you don’t have headaches.”
Rory’s ministrations made me light and floaty. I relaxed into him. So much so, that it wasn’t until he shifted that I felt his hard cock pressing into my back.
He drew in a sharp breath.
“You are so sexy,” he whispered into my ear.
I am going to Hell because I can’t stop thinking sexy thoughts about my clients. All they have to do is manhandle me a little bit, and I’m ready to go all the way. But right now, the front of the red duster pooled on either side and Rory is kneading my breasts with his hand. His touch is divine, and I’m in heaven. Both hands now command my nipples, and I arch my back in response. Can you come from a breast massage? I just might.
The place between my legs throbs against my too tight jeans and I thrust my hips forward seeking friction. Rory’s hands kicked up the simmering sexual frustration of the past few days, and dear LordI need it. Now. I want a man’s cock between my legs, and damn it, if Rory Holmes will give me his, I will take it. I twist my head toward his offering my lips, and he lowered his head.
The doorbell sounds, startling both of us.
“What the hell,” I roared. “What is it now?”
“Don’t answer,” said Rory.
And at first I’m tempted, but then someone pounds on the door with the force of a battering ram.
“I’ll make whoever it is go away,” I said. Pushing away from the couch, I stalked to the front door and peeked at the security screen there.
What the—? Cole Kane pounded on the door, and shockingly, Jersey Dys exited a black Jaguar, and then lastly, Tobias stepped out of his gray Aston Martin Vanquish.
“Holmes, you bastard,” said Cole. “Get the hell out here.”
CHAPTER TEN
Tobias
Idropped off Kane who promptly got into his vehicle and tore out of his garage like a man possessed. If he were going after Dys, this would not end well. All of Jacine’s hard work would burn away into the smog-filled LA air, leaving Alexander and Wells the laughing stock of LA.
I heard what my friend at the company who books the Bowl act said. The whole thing at Angelo’s made for interesting press, but the only people who benefited were the newspapers. Rock stars were known to be volatile, and a certain amount of mischief was considered colorful. But playing the public at large at risk? That made any band a bad bet.
And Jacine had three of them on her hands.
Something wasn’t right, though. Kane wasn’t heading to Dys's house. And as we traveled the torturous curves of the roads of the Hollywood Hills, I finally realized where we were headed.
