“You’re doin’ it now,” he said softly as I continued to knead. “That’s what counts.”
“Let me know if I press too hard.”
He didn’t respond, but I could feel his muscles loosen as I worked over his shoulders and the back of his neck. I wanted to ask him about Razor, but he’d just relaxed. I didn’t want him to tense up again.
“You don’t have to keep doin’ that,” he murmured, sounding half-asleep after I’d massaged him for at least five minutes. “Your hands have to be gettin’ tired.”
“I’m good.” I didn’t want to admit I liked touching him. That I liked feeling him. Hell, I barely wanted to admit it to myself. “When was the last time someone rubbed your shoulders?”
“I can’t remember anyone ever doin’ this for me.”
My hands stilled. “No one?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said with a sigh. “What about you? Did Limp Dick give you shoulder rubs?”
I couldn’t help grinning at his nickname for my ex. “No, he was too self-centered.”
“Did you give them to him?” he asked, a hint of menace in his voice.
His tone caught me off guard. “Yeah, a few times. Are you jealous?”
He turned his upper body slightly to face me. “Jealous? Fuck no. I just wanted confirmation that he’s as much of a prick as I suspected.”
I grinned. “I already told you he’s a prick. Now turn back around.”
He gave me one last look, then turned to face the chairs.
I resumed his massage, and it only took a few seconds for him to relax again.
“Why has no one done this before?” I asked gently. “I know you said you didn’t do girlfriends, but there must have been women in your life who meant something to you. Women you dated for at least a few months.”
His breath hitched slightly, and he stayed quiet for so long that I didn’t think he was going to answer.
“There was one,” he finally said, barely loud enough for me to hear him. “She caught me by surprise and slipped through my defenses.”
I expected to feel jealousy—especially after the way it had flared up several other times tonight—but the sadness in his voice smothered it.
“How did you meet her?” I asked softly.
“She wasn’t from my world. She was an innocent, and I fell hard for her, even though I had no business thinkin’ about her that way. I kept it to myself for quite some time, until she started to feel something for me. Even then…” His voice trailed off. “I knew it was wrong, but I’d wanted her for months, and when I had the opportunity…” He drew in a sharp breath. “I couldn’t stop myself. It’s my deepest regret. I nearly ruined her life.”
A pain stabbed my chest. Not jealousy, but sorrow. “She was a grown woman. She could make up her own mind.”
“She had no idea what she was gettin’ herself into.”
“She knew what you did?” I asked. “She knew who you were?” I couldn’t imagine how he could have kept it from her.
“Yes.”
“Then she had to know what she was getting herself into.”
“She was naive.” He sounded bone-weary, and I knew it wasn’t from his concussion.
I couldn’t argue that point, since I didn’t know anything about her. “If she wasn’t from your world, then how did you meet her?” I asked, repeating my earlier question.
He paused. “The first time was at my pool hall, but then I saw her about six months later.” He stopped again, like he was cutting himself off.
“You were interested in her, but you kept it to yourself. You must have kept running into her if you saw her often enough to fall for her.”
