This man. He needs something special.
I pry my hands off his body but allow my gaze to drift along his torso, waist… hips. He’s even more beautiful sleeping.
His thighs are thick, sinewy. I’m tempted to extend my massage downwards… but that’s creepy. Even for me. Even though I’m no longer officially giving massages, I can’t help thinking he’s never signed a release. I don’t have permission. Instead, I place my hands over his heart chakra. I allow the breeze to whisper through my hair as I focus on healing.
I love this.
Meditation.
Peace flows through me.
“Are you a witch?” His chest rumbles beneath my hands. “I feel like you’ve cast a spell on me.
I don’t remove my hands right away. “Massage therapist.”
He smiles sleepily. “Ah… So that explains how you read my mind?”
Most people think I’m wacko when I talk about my gift. To me it’s the same as seeing, smelling, tasting… but to some… Yeah, he might as well think I’m a witch. “I’m very perceptive.”
I resume massaging his neck and shoulders. We’ve been here over an hour. The sun’s setting, and the air’s getting cooler. “I miss this.” I’m almost thinking out loud. When he squints up at me, I explain. “They moved me to guest services when I first got pregnant. The oils.” The memory causes me to wrinkle my nose. “My stomach couldn’t handle the smells.” I’d thrown up every morning for three months.
He closes his eyes again. “So, I shouldn’t expect this from all my VIP Concierges?” He drawls the words out somewhat mockingly.
“Probably not.” I laugh.
“Tell me something else about you, Miss Richards.”
“You pretty much know the highlights.” As a pregnant woman, your past intimate indiscretions become fodder for public consumption. People speculate. They judge. Some fairly, others… not so much. “Otherwise. Hmm… Let me see… I grew up in Denver. I love the mountains. I’m a bit of an introvert. I hate crowds…”
“I used to love them,” he mumbles in a lazy voice.
I rub out a kink between his shoulders and his chest. I then work up the base of his neck and slowly remove my hands from his hair. “I’m going to leave you now.” I keep my voice low. He needs to be alone. I want him to feel safe. When I had my first chakra massage I burst into tears afterwards.
I couldn’t leave him while he was sleeping. Too vulnerable. But he needs to come awake in private. Be alone with the earth.
Except he won’t be really. Life is all around us.
He peeks up at me, eyes half closed still. “Have dinner with me?”
“Hush.” I touch his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ihad troublesleeping last night. Even with the big pregnancy pillow I bought, it’s almost impossible to get comfortable. So, I’m kind of grumpy today.
Maybe a little frustrated sexually too…
But we won’t go there.
I’m wearing jeans today, a pair with the elastic top. Soooooo sexy. One of my Whiskey Creek T-shirts covers most of my belly. And my hair’s pulled up in a pony.
Teri, a good friend, and also one of the managers here, stops by my desk. “I don’t know how you do it.” She scowls at me. Teri is in her late forties and rail thin. “I looked like a beached whale when I was pregnant. How far along are you again?”
I pat Squirt. “Thirty-four weeks and two days.”
“I can’t even tell you’re preggers from the back.” She laughs and hands me the day’s check-in report. “No problems with Mr. Forrester, then?” She waves a file to fan her face. “That man. I caught a glimpse of him this morning. Apparently, he’s a runner. Likes to run without his shirt.”
I hesitate to tell her about the massage I gave him, but as my boss she deserves to know where I went off to yesterday afternoon. “I gave him a massage.” My face grows hot which is ridiculous. “He’s not here by choice.”
Teri nodded thoughtfully. “I wondered.”
