He chuckled. “I was born in Edinburgh. But I moved to northern California when I was near ten. San Jose for a few months, and then to San Ramon.”
“That must have been quite a change.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, and I wondered if I’d overstepped. Before I could apologize for being too forward, he sighed again. “Aye, it was.”
Shit. I hoped I hadn’t touched a sore spot. Almost as an apology, I gave him a long, deep roll with the flats of my hands all across his back – a Swedish massage technique known as effleurage.
“Damn,that feels good, lass,” he groaned. “You’re very good with your hands.”
Clients told me that all the time, but this time, it made me blush. “That’s what they pay me for.”
I sounded like such an idiot.
“I haven’t had a massage in years. Never feel like I have time. Maybe I ought to put them in my schedule more often.”
“As your massage therapist for the evening, I agree,” I joked, liking how easy it was to talk to him.
He rumbled another laugh, this one nearly making my knees weak. “Aye, right! It’s nice to hear an unbiased professional opinion.”
“You joke,” I countered, “but it’s less biased than you think since this is my last shift as an MT. No self-serving initiatives to keep you coming back.”
I moved down to his powerful legs and began working on his right calf. The hair there was rough against my palms, but not unpleasantly so. If anything, each pass wound my insides tighter.
“Am I your final client?”
“Got it in one.”
“Well, aren’t I the lucky one?”
He wasn’t anything like I’d expected. Usually, clients wanted complete silence or unloaded all their personal drama onto me once I’d primed the pump. Both were entirely up to what the client needed, but I couldn’t deny how nice it was to carry on a simple conversation for once.
“Will you be switching to a different establishment? If so, you’ll have to tell me the name of it.”
Was he flirting with me? More than in a friendly way? Was that possible?
He wouldn’t be the first client to do so, but he didn’t appear to be the sort of man who’d need to resort to flirting with someone like me when he could walk into anywhere and get a woman at the snap of his fingers. I found myself wondering what else a snap of his fingers could get him. I was pretty sure the answer was whatever he wanted, and unless I was prepared to out-and-out lie to myself, I was one of those people who’d give him anything.
Dammit.
“Um, if you could just turn over, I’m going to start on the front of your legs.” My voice sounded oddly high-pitched and strained. Not at all like my usual polite and professional tone. I fought to get things back to normal. “I’ll hold the towel up and turn my head away as you roll over.”
“Oh, aye, can do,” Alec replied. “Ready when you are.”
I did as I’d said, closing my eyes for an extra measure of decorum. I’d never wanted so desperately to take a peek before. Then again, I’d never before had a client who looked like a Greek god either.
I heard Alec moving and concentrated on taking slow, even breaths.
“All right, lass.”
I settled the towel back into place and mentally prepared myself to deal with any necessary adjustments. A peek at a hip. A little too much of those deep v-grooves I just knew he had hiding…
Fuck me.
Heat flooded my face…and other places. It wasn’t as though erections were uncommon for men when they received massages, but again, I was usually much better at ignoring such a thing. Except the tent his towel made was impossible to ignore. Not because I was uncomfortable with it – of course not, it was a natural biological reaction – but rather because my own body was reacting in a way that wasn’t like me at all.
I forced a professional smile and avoided looking at either his eyes or his…towel. It was less awkward looking at his muscular legs, but that didn’t do a thing to cool off my libido.
What the hell was wrong with me today?
