"It's fine."
I snort. "Don't lie to me."
She scoots forward on the bed. I make a split-second decision and pull her legs onto my lap. Talk about intimate. Now I've undoubtedly upped the ante. I hear her sudden intake of breath as my hands slide down her calf to her ankle, checking the swelling and testing the range of motion. She's tense under my touch. Her breathing isn't steady.
"You're tensing," I murmur. My mouth's too close to her ear.
"I wonder why." Her voice is breathless.
"Relax. I won't hurt you."
I work my thumbs into the muscles around her ankle, careful but firm. Every sound she makes goes straight through me. Small gasps. Quiet sighs. The way she leans back toward me without thinking. My control hangs by a thread.
I find myself wondering,What would happen if we hooked up? Just this one time, to get it out of our systems?
"You're surprisingly good at this," she says.
"I’m a professional hockey player." My voice sounds rough. "Sore ankles are my thing."
After a minute, she turns her head slightly and looks at me over her shoulder. "Your shoulder must be killing you after carrying me. Let me work on it."
Every alarm in my head goes off. "No. I'm okay."
She purses her lips. "Silas."
"It's fine."
"You're lying. You've been favoring your left side all day."
She's right. We both know it. My right shoulder throbs constantly, and it was made worse when I carried her. "I don't need help."
"Turn around," she says gently. "Let me, please."
The refusal sticks in my throat. Slowly, like I'm walking toward something I won't be able to undo, I turn my back to her.
The first touch of her hands makes me jolt. She starts at the base of my neck with steady pressure. A sound escapes me before I can stop it. Relief and desire twist together, too close for comfort.
"You're carrying so much tension," she murmurs. She works deeper.
Her hands feel too good. Every touch sends heat through my body. I grip my thighs, trying to anchor myself, but shefinds a tight knot and presses her thumbs into it. I groan before I can stop myself. My body responds instantly. Heat builds low and fast. My cock hardens with every pass of her hands.
They call me Ice Man. The guy who doesn't feel anything. But right now, with Scout's hands on me, the ice is shattering. Every touch cracks the facade I've built over years.
I'm not cold. I'mburning. Desperate. Starving for contact I've denied myself for so long I forgot what it felt like to want someone this badly. Her professional touch shouldn't affect me like this, but it does. Because it's Scout. I've wanted her for years, even when I tried to pretend I didn't. Now every touch is one more I'll remember when this is over and she's gone.
"Scout." Her name comes out as a warning.
"It's okay," she whispers. Her breath hits the back of my neck.
It's not okay. I'm sitting here getting hard from her innocent touch. I'm imagining her hands moving lower. I'm imagining turning around and pressing her into this mattress. My hips rock forward slightly without permission, searching for friction that isn't there. Another groan escapes, and this time I know she hears the want in it.
Scout puts a hand to my chest, as though trying to settle me. Our eyes meet, her green gaze questioning. We're stuck, trapped in a moment together. I don't dare to move because I don't want this spell to break.
Then Scout dips her head and brushes her petal-soft lips against mine. A groan rips its way from my throat. I thrust my hand in her thick curls and tug her head back, licking the seam of her lips until she parts for me, lets me in. A mistake, surely, but I take full advantage of the weakness. I tangle my tongue with hers, plunging inside her mouth.
She tastes as sweet as candy bursting across my tastebuds. My instinct is to lean in, move her back into the pillows behind her. I'm crazed enough that I just want to be inside of her body any way that I can.
Just as I moan again and move closer, I feel her hesitant palm against my chest. She breaks away, whispering against my lips. "Si, wait."
