Before I could stop myself, I was pressing my thumbs against the marks, trying to soothe the angry patches. Of course, the irritation didn’t rub away that easily—but touching her back made me realize how tight the muscles were there. I pulled the zipper down all the way to where it stopped just above her bra strap and then started to massage her shoulders.
“Oof,” she said softly, arching her back a little.
I paused. “Does that hurt?”
Gwen giggled. “No, it feelsincredible. I might have to hire you as my massage therapist.”
I let my hands run along her shoulders. It took every ounce of my strength to keep them from skimming lower.
“Mmm,” Gwen murmured. Her head fell forward.
I’d heard that satisfied noise before. I knew how to get her to make even louder sounds.
The memory of her screaming my name made my cock press against my pants. Why the fuck was I torturing myself like this? Touching her this way just made it harder to resist the urge to touch her inotherways. I finally managed to pull my hands off of her and moved away to make myself a drink.
“Scotch?”
Gwen looked flushed. She shook her head. “I’m good.”
Yeah, she was. And that was a huge problem for me. I flicked on another light on my way to the bar, as if brightness would keep me from thinking filthy thoughts about her. But no, we’d also made love beneath the window in Aspen, our bodies bathed in the bright morning sunshine.
The news moved on to sports, which signaled the broadcast was almost over. Gwen squealed and clapped at something the reporter said, and I refocused on the show as I sat down on the couch a safe distance away from her.
She pointed at the TV. “My dad played for the Twins, and they won today!”
“Your dad was a pro player? Now that’s impressive,” I said. “I had no idea. I don’t really follow sports…”
“No time, I get it,” she replied, still focused on the screen. “He’s been retired for ages, so unless you’re into stats from thirty years ago, I wouldn’t expect you to recognize his name. He’s still a local celebrity, though, and he gets to relive his glory days at his restaurant, Sluggers. Nice place—great onion rings.”
“Well, the next time business takes me to…” I gestured to her to fill in the blank.
“Minneapolis.”
“Minneapolis,” I repeated, “I’ll have to stop by Sluggers. I love a good onion ring. Battered or breadcrumbs?”
She pulled a face. “Battered. Obviously.”
“Good, that was a test,” I chuckled.
The news cut to a commercial for a police procedural and Gwen groaned.
“What?” I asked. “Not a fan of cop shows?”
“Not a fan ofthatcop in particular,” she jabbed her finger at the screen and grimaced when a handsome guy pulled a gun overdramatically. “Ben Simon. Let’s just say I know firsthand that he’s, uh, not a man of his word.”
I snorted at her. “Are you in one of those old-timey romance novels? Did he refuse to sign your dance card? Or get scandalized by your bare ankle?”
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “I was trying to be discreet, but I suppose that ship has sailed after everything I told you and Scarlet about Ian.”
I frowned. “Wait, are you saying that Ben is another?—”
“Another ex?” She gave me a wry smile. “Kind of yes, kind of no. What he started out as was a client.” She fiddled with the hem of her dress, avoiding eye contact. “This was years ago, back when I was new at the job. I was really gung-ho about helping him with his PR crisis, you know? I wanted to prove myself. But I may have gotten a little overinvested. And he was…charming and good-looking and grateful for my help, and it started to feel like there was something more there. It didn’t go very far. Mostly, we just flirted. He might’ve kissed me once or twice. Our texts got…intense, shall we say.”
“So what went wrong?” I asked, straining to sound and look normal andnotto scowl at the thought of her with that pretty-boy actor.
She scoffed. “Hewas what was wrong. He had a girlfriend the whole time. He told me they’d broken up, but she was just in Bali filming her latest movie. Once I found out they were still together, I realized he’d just been using me the whole time.”
“Idiot,” I said.
