Even if their careers and their lives weren’t miles apart, even if shewasinterested in something more than sex for the sake of sex, there was no future for them. She’d made it clear whether she’d intended to or not. She wanted something he’d never be able to provide. Something profound.
A deal-breaker.
And so, he’d make himself savor this moment and all the moments she’d let him steal in the hours or days or weeks to come. Then he’d take them out and relive them when he was forced to let her go so she could move on to a man capable of making all her dreams come true.
When that thought had something fisting hard and fast in his chest, he forced himself to shove worries of the future aside and concentrate on what was in front of him right then.
The massage oil was cool as he upended the bottle and watched the liquid pool into his palm. He rubbed his hands together to warm it before gently gripping her shoulders.
Her skin was velvet beneath his callused fingertips as he thoroughly kneaded her delicate muscles. He watched the way her flesh bounced back beneath his touch. Listened to her breathing for cues about how much pressure she liked. And did his best to tell her with his touch just how much he adored her body.
“Let me have this arm,” he said and was gratified when she immediately obeyed.
Her bicep was small yet firm. Her forearm was thin and delicately turned. And when he got to her hand, he slipped his fingers between hers. Noting, once again, the difference in their skin tones. The broadness of his palm compared to the slimness of hers. How delicate her fingers looked next to the thick bluntness of his own.
She did something wonderful then…
She closed her fingers around his until they were holding hands.
It was such a simple thing. Yet it felt profound.
Holding hands wasn’t about sex; it was about connection. And until that moment, he hadn’t known it was possible to be eye-crossingly horny and emotionally moved all at the same time.
When she released his hand, he blew out a ragged breath. Then held it again when he massaged her other arm and she did the same thing. Only that time, the hand-holding lasted longer. And when she finally let go theybothlet loose with frayed sighs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He wasn’t talking about her body, although he certainly thought she had the most amazing figure he’d seen. He was talking aboutallof her. All the wit and wonder, all the honesty and integrity that made her who she was.
“You make me feel beautiful,” she admitted after restacking her hands beneath her cheek.
“I want to make you feeleverything.” He returned his hands to her back because now that he’d touched her, he couldn’t stop.
He made sure his strokes were lingering and purposeful. He was careful to smooth every ligament and muscle and tendon. And his cock, which was so hard he thought it a wonder the damn thing hadn’t split the skin, throbbed unabashedly when he got to her waist and realized his hands could span the small expanse.
He paid special attention to the little divots at the top of her perfect ass—dear god, he’d avoided looking directly at it because it drove him to distraction and had him wanting to mount her like a stallion scenting a mare. And then he smiled at her groan of impatience when he skipped over her luscious butt and instead moved down to the end of the bed so he could start massaging the soles of her feet.
Of course, her groan of impatience turned into a moan of pleasure when he used his thumbs to work out the tension in her arches. Then he journeyed upward. Reveling in the smoothness of her finely turned calves. Letting his touch turn featherlight on the backs of her knees until she giggled. He increased the pressure and the length of his strokes as he smoothed out the muscles of her kissable, lickable thighs.
By the time he swiped his thumbs beneath the lower curves of her ass, they were both breathing hard. And when he began to knead each plump globe, she arched her back, bringing up her butt in an age-old declaration of submission, of offering.
It was almost more than he could stand.
He felt a drop of passion squeeze from the tip of his raging hard-on when he slid his fingers down the seam of her ass, barely brushing the entrance to her sex.
“Hunter,” she gasped, encouraging him by arching higher.
He could feel the heat of her, the exquisite promise of wet female flesh, and he desperately wanted to dip his fingers inside. But he’d promised himself slow.
“Roll over, Grace,” he instructed. When she did, all the breath was sucked from his lungs. Her hands fisted the comforter on either side of her flaring hips as her large breasts bounced and settled against her narrow rib cage. “You’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.”
Her cotton candy-colored nipples had beaded into tight points. Her belly button was a perfect oval that begged for the flick of his tongue. And the strip of hair covering the top of her sweetly swollen mons was two shades darker than that on her head.
She grabbed her breasts, one in each hand, gently tugging at her own nipples, and he couldn’t stand it any longer. Shoving his hand into the top of his briefs, he fisted himself in a long, slow tug. Just a little friction to take the edge off.
Her small, secretive smile told him she liked to watch. He tucked that bit of information away for later.
“Where would you like me to start this time?” he asked. Or, rather,rasped.
The urge to continue touching himself, to stroke himself to completion with his oily hand while watching her tend to her breasts was intense. But when he came, it would be inside her. And so, with one last squeeze, he released his straining cock.
