“I’m going to massage the fronts of your legs and then move on to your arms, neck, and shoulders,” I said, somehow keeping my tone light and even.
“Sure thing,” Alec said, his voice not betraying a single iota of what he was thinking.
I continued with the massage, focusing on his thighs and trying not to think about what lay under the towel at my elbow. The sudden lull in our conversation, however, made it a lot more noticeable that something had shifted between us, and it was my job to get things back on track.
I picked up the first non-sexual topic that came to mind. “In answer to your question, no, I won’t be going anywhere else. Massage therapy was kind of a ‘get me through college’ thing. My roommate’s parents own the place, and they gave me a job cleaning and greeting clients shortly after I started school. Since it wasn’t quite enough to cover my expenses, even with financial aid, I trained to be an MT, massage therapist, and started picking up those shifts here and there as soon as I finished my training.”
I felt his eyes on me but didn’t risk a look. He was far too dangerous for his own good. Or mine.
“Have you enjoyed being an MT?” he asked. “Jobs during university are usually an incentive to get through school faster.”
I switched to his other leg.
“That’s true. I probably would’ve ended up flipping burgers if not for this. But no, I’ve actually liked my job. It’s a surprisingly good workout, and the music and the candles and the oils make me almost as relaxed as my clients.”
“Then I won’t be feeling bad for making you work all the way to close on your last day.”
“You shouldn’t.” I managed a smile as I started work on his arms. Damn, his biceps were firm. His forearms too. He wasn’t even flexing…
“Technically,” I forced myself to continue, “it’s my last day tomorrow, but I won’t be doing any massages. Just greetings and administrative stuff. Yesterday was supposed to be my last MT shift, but my roommate called me in tonight as an emergency favor. She forgot all about her shift and went to a movie with her boyfriend instead.”
“You’re quite the saint, now, aren’t you?”
I shrugged as I worked my way to his shoulders. “I think of it more as a mercy mission since her mother probably would’ve killed her if she hadn’t called me to cover.”
He laughed, but the sound was suddenly a lot more serious than it had been before. “You’re a good friend, lass. You can’t even say you’re just doing your job because this technically isn’t supposed to be your job anymore.”
Being called ‘lass’ shouldn’t have given me goosebumps, but there it was.
“You’re sweet,” I said, knowing full well that my cheeks were still red. “But like I said, I enjoy being an MT. I’m more than happy to work until the end of my shift instead of sitting around watching the time pass. I enjoy knowing I’m giving people relief.”
A movement to my left caught my eye, and I glanced over before I could stop myself. I sucked in a sharp breath when I realized I’d seen the towel move, the bulge under it growing as his erection swelled.
I snapped my gaze back to my hands and focused on his shoulders. Except his shoulders were broad and strong like the rest of him. Not too thick but rather beautifully proportioned…
Dammit.
“Um, I feel ridiculous asking, but my date was really quite bad, and I could use a pick-me-up.”
I kept working at his shoulders even as I tried to figure out what he meant. Did he want some coffee this late at night?
“A pick-me-up?” I asked, risking a quick look at his face.
He grinned sheepishly. “Perhaps something from the…secret menu.”
I had no idea what he was talking about and tried to come up with the best way to politely explain that without making him feel foolish. “Everything we have is in one of our service guides.” I pointed to the tri-fold brochure on the counter across the room. “Do you want to see it?”
He shifted a little, and I didn’t have to see his face to know that his smile was fading. “I suppose I’m being too subtle. I was told your establishment offers…happy endings.”
I froze, those two words ringing over and over in my head. Every place that offered massages knew what a happy ending was, either because they offered it or because they wanted clients to know in no uncertain terms that they didn’t runthatkind of establishment.
We were the latter.
“You have to go.”
“I…what?” he asked, startled.
“This session is over.” I made my voice as hard as possible. “Leave. Now.”
